THERE SHE WAS AGAIN.
The third day in a row she’d marched past his house, rattled through the farm gate bordering his property and walked up onto the hill path. He wouldn’t have noticed—Joe generally took little interest in the steady stream of day-trippers and hikers walking past his foothills cottage—only for the bright multi-coloured hat and lipstick-red knitted knee-length coat more suitable for shopping than hiking.
It was the hat that had first caught his attention. Oranges and yellows and something he was sure his sister would call umber or something. Like a sunburst, or sunrise. A fresh vibrancy in the Lake District early autumnal grey they’d been having for the last few weeks. But wearing a wool coat and no decent wet weather gear? Downright foolish. She was probably one of those ill-equipped flakes he heard about too regularly, that had Search and Mountain Rescue out in the dark, risking their own lives.
Should he tell her about today’s forecast? Run after her like a busybody and tell her to wrap up warmly and get back down before dark and the threatened downpour?
Like hell. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get so involved these days—live and let live. Get Katy ready for school, then go to work, come home. That was his life now: rinse and repeat.
But there was something about the brightness that compelled him to watch her. She’d stopped along the path and was looking out over the hotchpotch of grey stone and whitewashed buildings in the village. From this vantage point at the kitchen sink he had a closer view of her profile. Fresh pink cheeks. Long white-blonde hair cascading down her back as she shook her head from side to side and stretched her arms out wide, raised a leg. Such joy and energy in her movements, she waved her arms in the air and breathed deeply, maintaining her single leg balance. A yoga position?
She was doing yoga on a mountainside in sleepy Oakdale.
Yeah, it took all sorts.
As if she knew he was looking, she turned to him and smiled. Something about the openness of her face, of the soft yet bright eyes, had him instinctively smiling back. Enough of a rarity these days that it made the muscles around his mouth feel stretched and strange.
He made a snap decision—hell, he was just doing his civic duty—and found himself on the path running towards her. It hadn’t started raining yet, but the wind was cruel and cold. He liked it that way. It bit through his skin, reminding him that he had once been a man who felt things instead of just numbly going through the motions.
‘Hey.’ He caught up with her. Close up, she was…well, she was beautiful. English rose complexion, pretty smile and that long hair moving round her shoulders like a languid river as she turned to look at him. Beautiful indeed. It had been a very long time since he’d been struck enough to think something like that about a woman. He cleared his throat, raised his voice above the wild whip of wind. ‘It’s going to rain.’
‘I know. I checked the forecast.’ Her voice was soft, like velvet. A purr. Her eyes a curious amber colour. Something he’d never seen before. Or at least hadn’t noticed. A hint of an accent, definitely southern. Not from around here, so no understanding of how quickly bad weather could creep up.
‘But still no raincoat? No waterproof trousers? Gaiters?’ She didn’t even have a rucksack and he’d take bets on her not having a drink or snack in those cosy pockets in case of emergency. Wool? In the rain? Hypothermia would hit her before she had the chance to call the Oakdale team out. Didn’t she know how stupid that was? ‘I hope you’re not going to be out for long—it’s dangerous to be dressed like that out here. The weather changes very quickly at the top of those mountains and you could get caught out. People would have to risk their lives trying to find you if you got lost or hurt—imagine that. Imagine if someone got hurt because you didn’t plan your hike properly. You’re not remotely prepared for the conditions. Any conditions, to be honest.’
Her sunny smile fell as she looked at his collared cotton shirt then down at his leather work shoes. ‘Neither are you, but I wouldn’t dream of being so rude to a stranger.’
‘Rude? I was trying to help.’ Thanks for nothing.
Her eyebrows rose and she looked at her legs then back at him. ‘Do I look as if I need help?’
Anything but. She looked vibrant and strong. Long limbs encased in black Lycra tights. Pink-cheeked. Well, actually red-faced now. He shrugged. ‘Okay. Suit yourself. Get wet.’
She tipped her head and looked at the blackening clouds. ‘I like rain.’
She really was a flake, then. Rain might have been good for crops, but it wasn’t good for ill-prepared hikers. Or car drivers… He pushed that memory away, along with the accompanying ache in his heart. ‘Good, because you’re going to get a soaking today. Fill your boots.’
‘I intend to.’ At least she had sturdy shoes on. That was something. Gold eyes flashed with irritation. Warm-coloured pupils with a cold fleck of anger. She held his gaze.
And he held it right back. So much for being the Good Samaritan. He’d know better next time.
‘Daddy? Dad! What are you doing out here? What’s for breakfast? Can we have pancakes today?’
His daughter’s voice jolted him back to reality. Behind him, Katy was shivering on the path, dressed only in her pyjamas. Nothing on her feet.
‘Quick, inside—you’ll get cold out here.’ He ran back to the house, cursing to himself. Idiot. That was the last time he’d try to be helpful. ‘Sorry, darling. No pancakes on a school day. I’m making porridge and there’s a banana for afterwards.’
‘Aww. Not fair.’
‘Keep complaining and it’ll be two bowls of porridge,’ he quipped, trying to make her smile while making a deal.
Katy’s bottom lip protruded in her well-worn, years-old way of appealing to his soft side. ‘Granny makes pancakes every day when I’m there. Why can’t we have them every day too?’
Joe bit back the healthy eating lecture that seemed to form the basis of their communication these days. His beautiful, playful toddler had turned into a demanding little Miss recently and he wasn’t sure why. Growing pains? Not for the first time—and definitely not the last—he wondered how different things might have been if Katy had had two parents around to bring her up. And with that thought he slopped the porridge into a bowl, the altercation with the woman still infiltrating his mood. Thank God he’d never need to speak to her again. Tomorrow, if she went past, he’d keep his mouth shut. Good luck to her.
He slid the bowl over to his eight-going-on-eighteen-year-old. ‘Hey, you’ll thank me when you still have lots of energy to run around at playtime.’
‘Ugh. But I don’t like it.’ Katy really did look dismayed and Joe’s heart pinged. Guilt lingered around the edges. Work was too damned busy at the moment; two staff down had made them all fraught, working extra hours to keep up with demand. Which meant less time with Katy. But now, as she watched his reaction, she grinned so easily, turning from heartbroken to heartbreaker with the simple upturn of her lips. ‘I have lots of energy. All the time. And I really, really like pancakes. They’re the best thing ever and if I have them I’ll smile all day. For ever.’
For ever. He wished he could somehow stop time and preserve her like this, so innocent and so easily pleased by little things.
‘Okay, we can set the alarm for earlier tomorrow and try making some