Page 55 of A Scottish Country Escape

‘Am I overdressed for a ramble?’ he asked, sensing my appraisal of his high fashion.

I pulled an apologetic face. ‘Maybe a little. Something tells me you didn’t buy that footwear in the local supermarket.’

Dexter raised one foot and waggled it. ‘If they get dirty, it’s my own fault.’

He nodded at what I was wearing. ‘You look…’

‘Scruffy?’

His voice softened. ‘No. Not scruffy. You look pretty. Very natural.’

I found myself savouring his compliments before Cate’s warning jumped out at me from nowhere.

I rolled up the cuffs of my shirt a little more and checked my mobile was stashed in the rear pocket of my jeans. ‘Thank you.’

I nodded over at Dexter’s curvaceous car. ‘I was going to suggest we walk up to the reserve. It’ll give you more of a feel for the area.’

Dexter blinked. ‘Walk?’

‘Yes. You know, it’s when you put one foot in front of the other.’

A corner of his mouth twitched.

‘Unless you don’t feel up to it,’ I teased. ‘We country bumpkins know how delicate you townies are.’

Dexter grinned. It lit up his whole face. My stomach did a weird, fizzy thing.

‘No need to worry about me, I can assure you, Elle. How long would it take us to get there?’

‘About twenty minutes?’

He shrugged. ‘OK. Let’s go.’

* * *

It was as if the summer evening had been stirred up with a spoon. Dollops of lazy sunshine mingled with a light breeze. The air was filled with the sound of birds as we made our way up past some farmland and triangular areas of forest.

The main street and the houses of Fir Haven fell away, the stout chimney pots and slate roofs melting behind the growing bank of trees.

‘How are you doing?’ I asked after a pause, the air wafting over my face.

‘You sounded just like Joey from Friends then.’

I laughed, wondering if he was trying to lighten the situation. ‘I mean about your writing.’

Dexter’s chest heaved. ‘I’m fine about it.’

I blinked across at him. ‘Sorry. That was a stupid question.’

He pushed one hand into his jeans pocket. ‘No, it wasn’t.’ He fired a hand through his thick hair. ‘I’m hating every minute of it. It’s not getting any easier. My agent and publishers have been great under the circumstances, but they’re becoming almost as frustrated about it as I am.’

‘And what have you told them? About not you not being able to write at the moment?’ I hoped the element of optimism I forced into my question might help to some degree.

We rounded a moss-encrusted wall which kept a field of sheep off the road. They looked like balls of candy floss.

‘I’ve been trying to avoid speaking to them,’ confessed Dexter. ‘Or if I have had to talk to them, I’ve pretended I’ve been laid low with a bout of flu.’ Dexter rolled his eyes. ‘They will be referring me for scientific tests for having the longest spell of flu in medical history.’ He cocked a brow at me. ‘Did you laugh then?’

‘No… OK, yes, a little bit.’