Stable Mates. Zara Stoneley
a huge demand for that type of thing here.’ Elizabeth’s tone was laden heavy with sarcasm.
Okay, dog rescue wasn’t going to cut it either. ‘I think he came here because his wife left him, and his daughter likes horses, so…’ She shrugged and threw the stick, which hit the sunbathing Holmes squarely on the rump, followed closely by the full weight of Bertie who was going too fast to stop and didn’t believe in swerving. Holmes leapt up with a snarl, as his seniority demanded in times of attack.
‘Boys, stop that.’ Even Lottie jumped as the full force of Elizabeth’s bellow stopped them dead. ‘And do you think he’s gay?’
‘Gay? I never said I thought he was gay. Well no I mean he’s married, and then his daughter—’
‘No, not Thomas, Dominic.’
‘Well, I—’
‘He’s not dear.’ Elizabeth patted her arm. ‘I must admit I did wonder, but I’d say he’s just very careful. Right, hadn’t you better be off?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m supposed to be playing golf this afternoon, although why on earth that woman can’t get up early like normal people do and get a round in before breakfast is a mystery. Come along dear, you can give me a lift to Christine’s and I will get Dominic to pick me up later.’
Elizabeth turned on her heel and set off back towards the house, Lottie and the dogs getting tangled up in the scramble to follow her.
***
It was only when Lottie got to her car, luckily in advance of Elizabeth, that it dawned on her that it was even more of a mess than it normally was. Which was down to too much time spent trying to fit visits to Rory in, in between running round after her father.
Lottie sighed as she opened the passenger door of her car and a crisp packet drifted out. She stared at the mess. Brushing the car seat with the old pair of jodhpurs she found in the back of the car didn’t seem to help matters at all, in fact it left a very nasty brown smear on the seat, which just had to be chocolate. And when she opened the glove compartment to shove the empty drink can and sandwich box in, several empty minstrel packets, along with a snickers packet (empty) and a mars wrapper (full), tumbled out. She took a bite of the chocolate bar and then started to stuff things under the seat with her spare hand. Elizabeth had no qualms about climbing into a Land Rover full of muddy boots and dog hair, but plastic wrappers of any kind were worthy of a sniff. One just didn’t buy things in wrappers, well at least Elizabeth didn’t. The housekeeper did, then she unwrapped everything, burned the paper and pretended that everything was cooked from raw ingredients that she’d more or less grown with her own hands. The operative word being less.
Driving her grandmother the handful of miles to her friend’s house was the normal ordeal. Lottie honestly didn’t know anyone who made her quite so nervous. She was more than capable of handling a horsebox, and had been driving her father’s tractor since her legs had been long enough for her feet to reach the pedals, but with Elizabeth in the passenger seat her nerves were shot to bits. It was always the same, she started with a routine inspection of the interior, then she moved onto comments about speed (‘doesn’t this car go any faster?’), cornering (‘do you really need to brake every time?’), overtaking (‘just because the stupid man wants to go at that speed doesn’t mean we all need to dear, in my day he’d have been run off the road’) and ended with parking (where she just opened the door and stared pointedly at the kerb, ‘shall I call a cab dear?’ being the normal comment, if she bothered with one).
‘Maybe your father needs to get you a better car. That might help,’ was always her parting comment before she slammed the door hard enough to check for rust damage, and after dusting herself down, she headed off.
It took most of the drive back, with the window down and the radio turned up full blast, sending the echoes of a defiant Pink into the countryside, before Lottie had relaxed her jaw enough to stop her teeth aching. By the time she drew up outside Rory’s cottage, she could almost, almost see the funny side.
***
Lottie walked on to Rory’s yard just as a man she’d never seen before stripped his t-shirt over his head and displayed a very attractive six-pack. She counted. It was definitely a six-pack. And she was pretty sure that if she had seen it before she would have remembered. Bodies like that tended to make a lasting impression.
Driving back from Tipping House, she’d had two things on her mind. One, what was her grandmother up to? Because she was definitely up to something as far as Tom and Uncle Dom went. And two, why was Tom here, in Tippermere? Why here exactly? There was something he wasn’t saying, and she had a horrible feeling there was something Elizabeth knew. Or why would she have been so interested?
Both thoughts were swiftly delegated to the back of her mind though as the beautiful naked torso, or was that naked beautiful torso, grabbed every inch of her attention. As he had his top fixed firmly over his head, and so couldn’t see, there didn’t seem to be a problem in taking advantage and staring. So she did. Until she realised he’d thrown the clothing to one side and she was staring open-mouthed at a guy who was staring straight back at her. He wasn’t open-mouthed though, he looked slightly concerned, like she might be a deranged mad woman escaped from the nearest loony bin. She shut her mouth.
‘Sorry.’ And went red. ‘I, er, have you seen Rory, or er Pip?’
‘You must be Lottie.’ Now that was the type of deep, dark, sexy voice she thought only existed in her imagination. She’d always had a thing for a nice accent, and Irish just shot straight to the top of the hit parade. Lottie resisted the fleeting urge to shut her eyes and ask him to keep talking. Then it registered that he knew her name. And she didn’t know his; she really would have remembered if she’d met him before. With or without clothes. Definitely.
Rory had a lot of friends, no one she would have ever called close, but lots of drinking buddies, eventing buddies, hunting buddies. Ever since they’d fallen into dating, he’d been surrounded by people, and at every party you could find the entertaining Rory in the thick of things. Which at times could be bloody annoying, like most of the times when she’d had a few drinks and was starting to feel either mildly randy and in need of attention, or well-oiled enough for her chatterbox mode to have kicked in and she just needed to talk. To him. But, even though they’d spent a lot of drunken evenings together (and drunken nights), she was pretty sure she would have spotted this guy, even if she did only have eyes for Rory.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ Lottie squeaked, cleared her throat and tried again. She had been quite happy ogling him, now the tables were turned she felt more than a little bit uncomfortable. Like an eavesdropper who’d been caught out with a glass to the wall, not that she’d stoop to that kind of thing.
Mick O’Neal repressed the smile, put his hands on his hips and took the time to drink in the vision that had materialised before his eyes. She wasn’t at all how he’d expected her from the sketchy descriptions Rory had laced into their conversations. For one, he’d translated the ‘plenty to grab hold of’ as fat, whereas Charlotte was as shapely as she was toned.
‘Are they in?’
‘They are indeed. Last I heard, Rory was trying to blame Pip for not entering his horse in some event, and she was giving him a bollocking back. She threw his phone at him, along with a few other things from the sound of it. I’m Mick by the way.’
He held out a hand and she stared at it with suspicion. Then regretted it when he placed it back on his hip. And then decided that the safest place to be was as far away from him as possible. Contact might be a mistake.
‘Great, thanks, so you are.’ Feeling mildly stupid, which was nothing new, Lottie made a dash for the safety of the kitchen and Rory, only to find a battlefield. The small kitchen table was normally piled high with entry forms, schedules, directions, vets bills and every other conceivable bit of information that an eventer might ever need. Today they’d been scattered in all directions. She teased one out of the corner of a terrier’s mouth and then gave it back to the dog when she realised it was only a