Page 43 of A Scottish Country Escape

Dexter inhaled. ‘Jesus. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.’

‘There isn’t anything you can say. Gran and I are trying to just get on with things and be there for each other.’

There was another of Dexter’s blue-eyed sideways looks from behind his sunglasses. ‘And that’s why you took over the family business?’

I nodded. ‘I decided I wanted to keep it going in some shape or another. I couldn’t bear the thought of selling it. My father’s building business was bought by one of his oldest friends, but I wasn’t prepared to let the shop go the same way.’

I twisted round in the leather car seat, aware that Dexter kept shooting me glances. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like that.’

Dexter continued to stare out of his windscreen through his aviators. ‘It’s called admiration. You’ve been dealing with so much and just getting on with it. And now you’re busy thinking about saving the small crested blue tit.’

‘I’m glad the threatened destruction of the nature reserve is providing you with some entertainment.’

Dexter flicked the indicator and swept us left, past the Fir Haven tourist sign. ‘I’m not laughing about it at all. It says a lot about you.’

His icy-blue eyes scanned me for a few seconds longer from behind his shades. ‘Something tells me you’re not going to have much time to help me find Linda Carlucci. Now I understand why. I’m so sorry again for your loss.’

I folded my arms and swallowed, touched by his genuine concern. ‘I promised Gran I would help you and I will. I can do both; help you and fight the reserve threat.’

For the briefest moment, a quirky smile looked like it was spreading upwards on his face. ‘And the shop?’

‘I’ve got Gran and Cate to help,’ I insisted.

Dexter controlled the large charcoal leather steering wheel. We were now winding our way past the chain of high street shops. The icing-pink signage of Paper Roses blossomed outwards.

Cate had closed up for the day and the shop was slumbering with the lights all switched off and the bottle-glass windows a hazy dark hue.

‘All the more reason to concentrate on making it a success,’ said Dexter.

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Is this your not very subtle way of telling me you don’t want my help after all?’

Dexter returned me to Pebble Brook, sliding down past the patchwork fields and dry-stone walls. He killed the engine. ‘I never said that.’

‘Mmm. You hinted.’

‘No I didn’t.’

I raised my eyes in frustration, up to the car roof. It was all thick leather too. ‘Look, why can’t you just accept that I’m going to help you?’

He swiped off his sunglasses and left them poking out of the top of his shirt pocket.

‘Don’t think I’m doing all this for you,’ I said, his hypnotic eyes unnerving. ‘I’m community-spirited.’

There was that sexy, quirky smile again. ‘Sure.’

I reached down to my shoulder bag resting by my feet and got out of the car, thanking him for returning me home. I straightened my T-shirt while he pressed a button and the driver’s side window slid downwards with a decadent whoosh.

‘I don’t give in easily either,’ I pointed out through the open window.

‘Now that I can believe.’

There was silence, except for the odd burr from a wood pigeon and the tinkling of the stream.

‘You’ll have your writing talent back in no time. You’ll see.’