Shadow On The Fells. Eleanor Jones

gazed down in consternation, placing his palms on his chest. Was she just trying to wind him up?

      “What’s wrong with it? The store manager said it was about as country as you can get.”

      “And it is,” she agreed, walking toward him. “If you’re going to the races, that is. You’d fit right in in the owners’ enclosure. Why don’t you just wear something comfortable? Jeans, boots and a warm jacket is all you need to walk these fells.”

      They stood quite close, facing each other with the wall between them. He handed over the check and she inspected it carefully before pushing it into her pocket.

      “There’s nothing wrong with it. It certainly won’t bounce.”

      “I’d come looking for you if it did,” she said in a tone of voice that made him believe it.

      Will turned to head back home without replying, not knowing how to react to her hostility. Three times he’d met her now, and each time had been the same. As soon as he thought she’d softened to him just a little, she had become sarcastic and biting. It was as if she was trying to make him feel like a fool.

      And it had worked.

      Perhaps she was trying to keep him at bay. But why? Well, she needn’t have bothered. He didn’t want friendship, and he didn’t need a shepherd’s help for his tourism venture, so what was the point?

      “Come on, Max,” he said, and the big dog bucked against his collar, taking Will by surprise.

      The leash slipped out of his hand, and he tried to catch it but lost his footing and stumbled, struggling back to his feet to see Max racing for the gate into the paddock. He yelled, but the dog ran on, alight with excitement.