Page 48 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay (Sturcombe Bay Romances #3)

Alex opened the car door for Shelley. “So how do you like the new chariot?”

“It’s very nice.” She settled into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt as he came round to slide behind the wheel. “You decided not to get an Aston Martin then?”

He smiled in dry humour. “I thought Paul might think I was copying him. Besides, having driven the rental Jag for a while, I’d got used to them.”

“This one looks as if it would be a lot faster than the one you were renting.”

“It is.”

“I like the colour better too — this nice metallic grey. More elegant. The red looked a bit flash.”

He smiled to himself. These past few weeks he had deliberately backed off, on Lisa’s advice: ‘She’s got some stuff she needs to deal with.

’ He hadn’t pried, but observing her from a distance, happily working on the reception desk — a job she’d repeatedly turned down before, according to Lisa — it seemed that at least some of that stuff had been dealt with.

The wariness hadn’t gone completely from her eyes, but she seemed a lot more relaxed, more confident. And she had agreed to come with him today. That was real progress.

At the next junction turn left.

“Ah, this is it.” The satnav had guided him onto a narrow lane overhung by trees. At the end there was a five-barred gate.

“I’ll get it.”

Shelley skipped out of the car and ran to open the gate, closing it when Alex had driven through. To their left was the office, a single-storey building, to their right a row of parking spaces. Alex tucked the Jaguar into one and came to join her, and together they walked into the office.

Christmas had arrived here with even more exuberance than the hotel, with a large Christmas tree almost smothered in swathes of tinsel and shiny red, green and gold baubles, and garlands of paperchains around the walls and across the ceiling.

Above the reception desk a shiny gold banner spelled out Merry Christmas, along with another that asserted A DOG IS FOR LIFE NOT JUST FOR CHRISTMAS.

They were greeted by a middle-aged woman with neat brown hair and a boa of scarlet tinsel wrapped around her neck. The badge on her sweater reminded him that her name was Marion.

“Ah, it’s Mr Crocombe, isn’t it?”

“Alex.”

“So — you’ve come to pick up a dog. I think they heard you coming.

” She laughed as she gestured with her hand towards the back of the building, from where a cacophony of frantic barking was echoing.

She turned to her computer. “I have your home check here — everything looks fine. You’ve met with several of our mutts — is there one in particular you’re most interested in? ”

“I’m thinking . . . Tyson, the Great Dane.”

She smiled in delight. “Oh yes — I was really hoping you’d say that. You really seemed to hit it off.”

“Why’s he here?” Shelley asked.

“People have found him a bit of a challenge. He’s just short of ten months old, and he’s already been rejected twice.”

“Oh . . . ! He’s just a puppy.”

Marion nodded. “He’s a typical Dane — big and bouncy and rather clumsy. But he’s very affectionate — he just wants to be loved. And he isn’t doing very well in kennels since the last time he was brought back. He’s not eating very well, and he’s starting to shut down. So — he’s your choice?”

“Yes.” Shelley spoke before Alex could open his mouth.

He smiled down at her. “I thought you were going to be the sensible one?”

Her eyes danced. “Whatever made you think that?”

Marion rose to her feet. “Come on through and I’ll bring him out.”

“I didn’t think they let people take dogs at Christmas,” Shelley murmured, glancing up at the sign above the desk.

“Ah — I exercised my famous Canadian charm and managed to convince her that I’m a responsible person.”

A bubble of laughter rose to her lips. “Of course.”

They followed Marion into a room behind the office, with a long sofa and a couple of floor cushions, and a box of dog toys.

“This is exciting.” Shelley was almost bouncing as she settled on the sofa. “A Great Dane. They’re gorgeous dogs.”

Alex smiled. It was easy to guess that it was the backstory about the dog being rejected which had hooked her.

“He’ll be a challenge,” he reminded her.

She quirked an amused eyebrow. “Oh, not like flying a fighter jet at Mach two, or buying a hotel, then?”

The barking from the kennels was going crazy, then the door at the back of the room opened. A large grey head with melancholy dark eyes peered cautiously round, then quickly retreated.

“Come on, boy,” Marion urged gently. “There’s someone here for you to meet. You remember Alex?”

The dog’s head appeared again, drooping and sad. Marion managed to coax him inside, but he tried — not very successfully — to hide behind her. His tail was clamped firmly between his legs, and Alex could see that he was trembling.

“Oh, sweetheart!” Shelley slid down onto one of the floor cushions and held out her arms. “You’re beautiful.” She spoke lightly, as if to a human baby. “Come and have a cuddle.”

The huge dog gazed at her for a long moment, uncertain. Then as Marion unclipped his lead, he bounded forward, all giant paws and gangly legs and floppy ears, and scrambled onto Shelley’s lap as though he was a tiny puppy. He tucked his head beneath her chin and whimpered softly.

“Oh, you big soppy. You’re just a baby, aren’t you?” She was laughing, wrapping her arms around him, tears in her eyes as she stroked his long sleek grey body.

Alex laughed. If ever there was a case of love at first sight! “Well, sensible or not, it looks like the decision’s been made. Where do I sign?”

* * *

Alex pulled the car into the car park outside the small block of holiday flats.

“Here’s your new home, Sweetie,” Shelley murmured.

He laughed. “You can’t keep calling a dog that size Sweetie.”

“Why not? He doesn’t look like a Tyson.”

He glanced back over his shoulder at the giant pup lying on a blanket on the back seat, watching them both with wary eyes. “No, I suppose not.”

Shelley studied the dog for a moment. “How about Tyler?” One floppy ear twitched and the dog lifted his big head. “I think he likes that! Come on then, Tyler. Let’s go see where you’re going to live.”

She unfastened his safety harness and took his lead, but he wasn’t at all sure about stepping out of the car — it had taken nearly twenty minutes and half a bag of treats to coax him into it in the first place.

Alex rattled the bag of treats again and it worked like magic. The dog perked up at once and scrambled clumsily out of the car to snaffle the treat. Then he rose effortlessly up on his hind legs to plant his huge front paws on Alex’s shoulders and slurped a long pink tongue up his cheek.

“Thank you.” Alex laughed and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

Shelley was laughing too. “I think he likes you.”

“You reckon?” He scritched the dog behind his ears. “Well, I like you too, you great lummox.”

Alex’s flat was on the first floor of the block. Fortunately, Tyler didn’t have too much trouble with the stairs. Alex opened the door and stood aside for Shelley to go in.

“This is nice.” She gazed around the sitting room. The place had the functional look of a holiday apartment, with laminate floors and magnolia walls, black leather furniture and some rather bland prints on the walls.

But it was light and airy, with French windows opening onto a balcony which had a wide view of the bay. And he had a Christmas tree. Not a big one, but nicely decorated with gold baubles and silver stars.

“It’s lucky they allow dogs,” she remarked.

“I did a deal with the landlord that I’d pay extra rent and cover any damage.” Alex smiled dryly. “He was more than happy to be able to find a tenant. Most of the other flats in the block are empty now the season’s over.”

Tyler was standing in the doorway, a slightly anxious expression on his large, melancholy face. Shelley had brought up the beanbag which Alex had bought from the rescue centre, and set it out on the floor beside one of the two sofas.

“There you are, Sweetie. That’s your bed.”

“Don’t keep calling him Sweetie,” Alex reminded her, laughing. “He’s already the size of a small horse, and he’s going to get bigger.”

“He’ll always be a Sweetie to me. Come on, Tyler — look. Something for you to lie down on.” The dog regarded the beanbag with suspicion. “Look, it’s really comfy.”

She sat down on it herself, but Tyler was still not convinced. Instead, he sniffed at the sofa, decided he liked it, and clambered up onto it, settling himself with a small huff of breath and laying his big head on his paws.

Shelley laughed. “Well, it looks like he’s decided where he’s going to sleep.”

Alex’s mouth quirked into a wry smile. “I get the feeling my life is never going to be the same again. Okay then, boy.” He gave the dog a speculative glance. “How about some dinner?”

Tyler was very interested in that. Another purchase from the rescue centre was a large dinner bowl on its own plastic pedestal so he could reach it easily. Alex had barely emptied the tin of meat into it when the dog came bounding into the kitchen and dived into it.

“Wow! He wanted that.”

The bowl was empty in moments.

“Right. The next thing is to take him out to do his business,” Alex suggested.

“Poo bags.” She held a couple out to him.

“Thanks.” Another wry smile. “Though I reckon we might need a considerably bigger bag!”

It was only a short walk down to the middle steps. Tyler pranced along beside them, his tongue lolling out, his ears pricked.

“He looks happy,” Shelley remarked. “I think he knows he’s got a forever home now.”

“He walks well on the lead, anyway. They gave him some training at the rescue centre. Let’s see what he makes of the steps and the sand.”

Not much. It took more coaxing and more treats, but eventually he was persuaded down to the beach. He wasn’t too sure about the sand, but reluctantly agreed to try it. The sea, however, was another matter.