“It’s lovely to have you move here. I’ve heard you do amazing things with your horses and children who need a little help. Who’d have thought that horses could do that.”
Jake swallowed a grin: Maud made it sound like the horse was actually a counsellor or something. He wanted to look at Lainey to see if she was amused, but he dare not give in.
“You should come and have a look sometime. It’s good for anyone to spend a bit of time with animals.”
He felt her eyes on him, but continued to stare at his beer.
“Even Jake’s alpacas can be therapeutic.”
He looked up at this. “I’m not sure my alpacas have anything to do with your therapy services.”
She smiled, picking up the gin and tonic that Maud had poured for her. “They haven’t. But they’re getting through the fence again somewhere – I’m not sure exactly where. The same four keep appearing.”
Jake didn’t look away. Her smile wasn’t one he’d seen before, possibly not even on another person. It bubbled with excitement, her eyes crinkling at the sides and shining like she’d just seen the most beautiful miracle.
“They’re clean animals, they…” He went into defensive mode automatically, his response conditioned from the amount of times Zack had been furious that the alpacas had somehow found their way into the care home grounds.
Lainey shook her head, still smiling. “No, they’re wonderful. I have a little girl who comes to me and every day she wants to see the alpacas. As soon as she gets there, she runs out to look for them and yesterday she started talking to one of them. She just said his name – or she gave him a name – and she told him hers.” Her expression softened. “It’s the first time she’s spoken in more than a year.”
Jake almost dropped his beer. “A year?” He wanted to make some daft quip about how they’d pay Sadie Grace to be quiet for just a day, but he knew somehow that it would undermine a whole lot of stuff going on here.
“A year.”
“Which alpaca was it?” It was suddenly the most important thing that he knew.
“The one that’s a chocolate colour. He has a white star on his nose.” She pointed to her nose as if she had a star there too.
Jake fought back the urge to put his finger on said nose. “That’s Geoffrey.”
Lainey raised her brows. “Geoffrey?”
“Yes. Geoffrey. Do you have an issue with Geoffrey’s name?” He tipped his head to one side and acted as if this was the most insulting thing she could say.
Lainey’s face broke out into the biggest smile he’d seen, and he felt his chest expand enough to crack his ribs. He’d made her smile. Properly. Like he hadn’t seen before even when she’d been talking to Scott or Keren or her sister.
“I’m not sure that’s the name he would’ve picked.”
Jake furrowed his brow. “And what name should he have picked?”
She shrugged. “The little girl called him Lancelot.”
“Lancelot?” Jake laughed. “That’s a good name from a little girl.” He saw a shadow cross her face, the smile briefly lost. “But he can be called that if she wants.”
“What are you thinking of putting in your auction, Lainey?” Maud pressed another beer Jake’s way, pointing a finger at the money box. “Maybe you could auction some of the single men of Severton. Although I doubt Jake here would fetch much, since most of the surrounding villages have already sampled his wares.”
Jake almost dropped the beer again.
Lainey tipped her head and assessed him. “It could add a bit of humour. I could bring my brother up and auction him off too, although he might need to add some incentive like a fine dining experience and therapy for after they’ve experienced a night with him.”
“Like Jake.” Maud folded her arms over her hand-knitted cardigan.
She’d worn the same sort of clothes for as long as he could remember, although Scott had once threatened to show him a photo of her in a bikini.
“I’m surprised you haven’t got a waiting list of women who dated Jake once.” Maud's expression was vulpine.
Jake eyeballed the cardigan wearing witch. “Don’t give Lainey the wrong impression.”
“What is the wrong impression, Jake Maynard?” Lainey lifted up her drink which he figured was instead of poking him or something.
