These tingles in parts of her body that hadn’t tingled for such a long time, and the butterflies flapping about in her tummy, weren’t about a rescue dog.
They were about a man. A man she had met on Valentine’s Day, just a few short hours before.
How could this be possible?
She didn’t want a man in her life. She wanted a dog.
A dog to chat to. A dog to go on walks with. A dog to cuddle up with. A dog to sleep in her bedroom but definitely not in, or on, her bed.
Oh, who was she kidding? A dog would be lovely, that was true. But a man … a man like Raff. Well, that was an entirely different kettle of fish.
Which threw up a whole new problem for her to worry about.
The last time she had kissed a man – a proper kiss, a passionate kiss, was more than ten years ago. That was also how long it had been since she had had sex.
Oh God! The thought of being naked with a man, especially Raff, was terrifying after all this time.
Was Raff thinking about any of this? Or was she counting her chickens before they hatched?
She was so anxious about it all that she completely forgot to respond to Raff’s text.
She returned to the dining area and took a large gulp of the white wine that was waiting for her in the glass on the table.
‘Is everything all right, darling?’ Granny Viv asked. ‘You look like a beetroot. I’ve never seen you so flushed.’
Kate’s hands instinctively shot to her cheeks as she sat down. Her flesh was hot to the touch. Perhaps she was sickening for something and that was why she was having all these strange feelings and sensations. Perhaps it wasn’t about Raff at all.
Oh for goodness’ sake. Why couldn’t she just stop thinking about the man?
This was what happened. Men always messed things up.
Even if they did nothing at all apart from send someone a text. Buy them a coffee. Retrieve a dog’s ball from the sea. Or simply smile in a particularly attractive way.
‘Kate? Are you listening?’ Granny Viv’s voice was rising. ‘Are you unwell?’
‘No. Sorry. I’m fine. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now, that’s all.’ She emptied her wine glass in two long gulps and refilled it. ‘I’m starving. Have we ordered?’
‘Yes. Five minutes ago, so it won’t be too long to wait. Although the place is getting very busy now. Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘Absolutely. Don’t worry about me.’
Nine
When Kate and Granny Viv returned home after lunch, Granny Viv settled in her chair beside the fire for an afternoon nap and Rufus curled up on the rug.
Once Kate was certain her gran had nodded off, she typed Rafferty and Hope’s Rescue Centre for Dogs into the web browser and Raff’s website popped up at the top of the search results, as she had expected.
She clicked on the link and was impressed with what she saw. The homepage of the website wasn’t flashy or overstuffed with information, it was welcoming, fun to look at, and clear about what it was.
The name was at the top, written on an illustration of a tasty bone, above which were a row of tabs for ‘homepage’, ‘about us’, ‘directions’, ‘dogs in our care’, and ‘how to help’ and each one had a dropdown menu giving more options.
Beneath the name were two illustrations of dog kennels, each with an address above the doorway, one with the Oxford address and one with Old Farm, Bluewater Bay. They both had bone shaped signs hanging from them stating the opening hours.Oxford was open Monday to Sunday from ten a.m. until five p.m., Bluewater Bay said, ‘Opening soon’ and gave a phone number, which wasn’t the number Raff had given Kate, so that must have been the number set up to take calls for the rescue centre.
Beneath the kennels was a photo of a field, taken on a sunny day, with dogs running and playing, and three dogs, each sitting beside a person who was wearing a T-shirt with the rescue centre name emblazoned across the back.
Near the foot of the page, it read: ‘Here are some of the dogs in our care, waiting to live their best lives with their forever person or family.’
Under that it instructed Kate to, ‘Click on any photo for more information about each of the dogs in our care.’
