Page 30 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

By the timeNick landed back downstairs Brogan was standing over the Aga, stirring something in a large pan that was filling the kitchen with the most delicious aroma. His stomach growled loudly.

‘Hi. Feel better now you’re all dry?’ she asked as she turned, greeting him with a broad smile. His heart responded with a flip. She looked cute in a pair of black jogging trousers and a bottle green hoodie, a pair of chunky sheepskin slipper boots on her feet. She’d piled her hair up on top of her head, and tendrils were hanging down, showing off her delicate bone structure. He had the sudden urge to nuzzle the nape of her neck. She was tiny, he thought, not much over five feet. It made him want to wrap his arms around her, take care of her. Though something told him that would be the last thing she’d want; from what he’d seen of her, she seemed fiercely independent. It would probably be safer if he kept his feelings and his hugs to himself for now.

‘Much, thanks.’ He’d swapped his wet clothes for a dry pair of jeans and a navy V-neck sweater with white t-shirt underneath. ‘How about you? Have your toes thawed out yet?’

‘Just about,’ she said, giving her infectious giggle, making his heart beat faster. Everything about this girl tapped into his senses, making them tingle.

‘Whatever’s in that pan smells seriously good.’ He headed towards her. ‘And those two rascals seem to think so too.’ He looked at Maudie and Wilf who’d directed their laser beam stares at Brogan, determined not to miss a move she made. He noted Wilf was perched on another large cushion that had appeared alongside the one Maudie had taken up residence on.

Brogan turned to face him. ‘It’s chicken stew; my grandma’s secret recipe. It’s a favourite of mine. I always used to ask her to cook it whenever I came to stay. She showed me how to make it myself when I was fifteen.’ Her smile fell a little. ‘You do like chicken, don’t you? I forgot to ask.’

‘I love it, and if your chicken stew tastes anything like as good as it smells, I’m going to be in for a real treat.’

Her smile grew wider. ‘Thanks. There’s herby dumplings too, with grated cheese on the top.’ She gave the pan a quick stir before replacing the lid. ‘I thought we could do with something warming and hearty after our earlier escapades.’

‘You’re not wrong there.’ Nick was struggling to take his eyes off her, just as he had the first day he’d seen her. ‘Is there anything I can do to help? Set the table?’

‘Er, okay, yeah. Mats are in the dresser – the drawer on the left – cutlery’s in the one beside it. I’m not much of a drinker midweek, but I don’t know about you, I think a glass of wine would go down well tonight.’

‘I think a glass of wine would go down very well.’

‘In that case, the glasses are in the cupboard on the right. I’ll get the wine, you can pour.’

‘Deal.’ He beamed at her. Despite the lousy day he’d had, being with Brogan somehow made everything seem so much better, smoothed away the harsh edges, gave his spirits a much-needed boost. He only wished he knew what she was thinking. If she felt the same way about him. She wasn’t an easy one to read, that was for sure. But one thing he was certain of was the burgeoning feelings he had for her; they were growing stronger the more time he spent in her presence.

23

BROGAN

‘Mmm. This is seriously good,’ said Nick.

‘Thanks. It’s a bit later than I usually eat, but hey-ho, that’s just the way it’s gone today.’

‘Yeah, it’s definitely up there as one of the more challenging days I’ve had. Well, part of it, at least. I don’t suppose I’d be getting stuck into your grandma’s glorious chicken stew if Willow Cottage hadn’t flooded. That’s definitely not challenging!’

‘Yep, every cloud…’ Brogan said lightly, her gaze catching his, her heart responding with a leap. He really did have the most amazing bright blue eyes; they seemed to look right into your soul, which is exactly what they seemed to be doing at this very minute. She looked away, focusing her attention on her plate as a blush stained her cheeks. ‘So, did you manage to get hold of the Trotters?’ She pushed another forkful of chicken into her mouth.

‘Ughh! It’s a bloody nightmare.’ Nick rolled his eyes. ‘They never pick up when I call them. The phone rings out then goes to voicemail every single time. I left them a message, told them what happened, explained how bad it was. I should be surprised they haven’t called back, but for some reason I’m not. I kind of half-expected it. I’m still waiting for them to reply to my other messages telling them about the heating and lack of hot water. I don’t know what it would take for them to actually have a conversation with me. They were very keen when they wanted me to sign the tenancy agreement. They were always on the phone then. Practically hounded me about it.’

Brogan looked across at him, her fork poised. ‘They’re shocking. You should ask for your money back. That house was unsafe and they knew it when they rented it to you. There must be laws about that sort of thing.’

‘I think there are.’ He set his knife and fork down on the plate and dragged his hand down over his face. ‘I could really do without dealing with that sort of thing right now. I’ve had a lot on recently and… well, it would’ve been nice to have a break from the hassle for a while.’

Brogan felt for him. He looked drained. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that.’

‘Hey, it’s not your problem. I’m sure things’ll get sorted eventually.’ He mustered up a smile.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked. She quite liked helping people sort out their problems and was regularly asked for advice by her friends. Anoushka had confided in her and sought her counsel when she was having relationship trouble earlier in the year. Years of sorting through her own problems, thanks to her independent upbringing, when she’d spend hours mulling things over, trying to work out the best course of action, had made her pretty good at it.

‘You’re already doing loads; giving me somewhere to stay for the night, feeding me with this delicious stew. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’ Nick’s face brightened and he flashed her his heart-melting smile before taking another mouthful of his dinner.

The words that he could stay as long as he needed were on the tip of Brogan’s tongue, but something made her hold back. She didn’t want to act hastily and end up regretting it, especially with them working together and Nick being one of her bosses. If things got tricky here she couldn’t exactly withdraw her offer, and risk the awkwardness spilling over into work. And he still hadn’t brought up that “chat” he’d been so keen to have. Thought of that sent nerves jittering in her stomach. She couldn’t quite work out what path that would take and was glad he seemed to have forgotten about it.

With the food eaten and the dishes washed – Nick dried and put away – they went into the living room. Brogan had lit the fire in the vast inglenook once she’d got changed when they’d first got back and the scent of woodsmoke lingered in the air. The room didn’t have the wrap-around warmth of the kitchen, but with the sofa and chairs pulled up close around the fire, it could almost pass for cosy. Brogan usually stretched out on the old sofa of an evening, wrapping a fleece blanket around her on chillier nights while she watched the television or read a book.

‘What a lovely room,’ said Nick, looking around him at the dark oak beams and seventeenth-century panelling on the back wall. A thick bressummer beam ran across the ceiling just before the fireplace, while a fixed wooden settle, backed with dark oak panelling that ran right up to the ceiling, was tucked in at the left-hand-side of the inglenook, affording a toasty warm seat for whoever was lucky enough to occupy it. On the other side of the fireplace a spice cupboard with the initials WL and the date 1645 carved into the door was set into the wall, with a smaller salt box below.

‘As you can see, my grandma didn’t waste an opportunity to get yet more florals around the place.’ A floral border ran around the room that matched the paper on two of the walls as well as the three-piece-suite and cushions. A multitude of knick-knacks were dotted on every available surface. The word “busy” could have been coined for it. Brogan took a log from the basket and threw it on the fire, sending sparks flying up the chimney, the thought that she really should get round to tackling the décor at some point soon crossing her mind. She hadn’t had the heart to face it yet; to change things still felt tantamount to eradicating the memory of her grandparents, and there was no way she was ready for that. Having her grandma’s trinkets and floral décor around her made it feel like they weren’t too far away, still within reach. In fact, the prospect of getting rid of or changing any of it made her feel almost panicky.

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