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‘I know.’ Suddenly, I felt guilty. One of the bags had burst open, disgorging its contents all over the pavement and me, which presumably accounted for the escaped lettuce. ‘Let me help you.’
But he was already on his feet, lifting the bin up and throwing the last of the bags inside.
I spotted a couple of rusty old teabags by the fence and hurried over to do my bit. Then I rescued my handbag from the gutter where it had landed, and quickly stuffed the contents that had fallen out back inside. After he wheeled the bin to its proper position for collection day, he helped me pick up the last odds and ends, including a few of my lovely new business cards. He inspected one. ‘Glamping, eh? Interesting.’
‘Keep it. We open in April.’
He grinned. ‘Nice. I’ll spread the word.’ He straightened up, towering over me by a good head-and-a-half. ‘Are you okay? No bones broken?’
I shook my head. ‘No bones broken.’
‘So what were you doing, anyway? How did you manage to knock the bin over?’
‘Well, I... I wasn’t looking where I was going and I sort of bumped into it.’
He grinned. ‘Kind of hard to miss a big black thing like this half-blocking your path. What were you doing? Gazing at the stars or something?’
‘No, I was... well, I was walking backwards and I sort of collided with it.’
He gave me an incredulous look. ‘So do you make a habit of that, then? Walking backwards?’
I laughed, embarrassed. ‘No!’
‘Glad to hear it.’
I looked back along the street, wanting to explain. But there wasn’t a soul in sight and I decided that telling this stranger that I’d been running from a possible stalker who wasn’t actually there might make me appear even more unhinged than I already did.
‘Anyway, sorry about that,’ I said instead. ‘I’d better go home for a shower.’ I peered at something brown and revolting on my sleeve and held it out to show him. ‘I’m a bit wiffy.’
‘Oof, you’re not kidding.’ He reared his head back in shock. ‘In fact, if you wouldn’t mind standing downwind of me a bit...’
Cautiously, I sniffed the stain. ‘It’s not that bad, is it?’
He started laughing then, which I found really irritating because it wasn’t funny at all. In fact, I was feeling like a first-class plonker for having knocked over his bin and then reacting to his offer of help with such melodrama, suspecting him of being a mass murderer or something.
‘You’re very easy to wind up,’ he said. ‘Who are you, anyway?’
‘My name’s Aurora,’ I said tartly, not appreciating the bluntness of his question. ‘But my friends call me Rori. I...er... won’t shake your hand.’ Instead, I wiped the gunk on my jeans, making a metal note to get the washing machine on and the shower running the instant I got home.
‘Nice to meet you, Rori. Even if it was in ratherunsavourycircumstances.’ His piercing blue eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘My name’s Kurt. But my friends call me... Kurt.’
I gritted my teeth. He was making fun of me now. But he might not find itquiteso hilarious if he was the one who had last week’s mayonnaise forming a slimy trail on the left leg of his best jeans. (I was desperatelyhopingit was mayonnaise.)
‘Nice to meet you,Kurt,’ I said icily, and mustering the few shreds of my dignity that remained, I turned and walked off.
‘Look, I’m sorry, Rori,’ he called after me. ‘I didn’t mean to laugh but you must admit, itwaspretty funny.’
I raised my chin and walked on, not even inclined to dignify this with a response. Tripping slightly over a raised paving flag, I only just managed to steady myself. Typical! No doubt he’d seen that and was now having a good old chortle at my expense.
I knew I was probably being irrational, but the man had got right under my skin for all the wrong reasons. Right now, I needed to be under a blissfully hot shower with my shampoo and lime body wash – and as far away as possible from the dangerous glint in those electric-blue eyes...
CHAPTER ELEVEN
That night, scrubbed clean, I lay in bed thinking about the footsteps I’d heard following me on the way back from the station.
Had I imagined them?
And what about ‘Kurt’? It was strange how he’d suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and thinking about it now, I hadn’t actually seen him go into the house he claimed was his. I’d marched off while he was still standing there on the pavement. If therehadbeen someone following me at a distance, could Kurt have been the mystery stalker?
