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Damn, he should’ve been more careful about what he said. Tasha had enough on her plate getting to grips with her new job without worrying about him. ‘It’s the start of the lambing season so things are going to get a bit crazy. I’m off to lamb-sit until midnight while our stockman takes a break. We lost one of the little ones today, but had a whole load of gorgeous new arrivals to make up for it.’
She touched his arm. ‘That must be really difficult to deal with. I’m so sorry.’
Rhys shrugged. ‘It’s part and parcel of farming. I won’t say it gets any easier, but you do get used to it.’
‘I suppose so, but I’m not sure I’d ever get used to not knowing what I’d be doing from one day to the next. I like to be organised.’
He laughed. ‘Really? I hadn’t noticed. It’s not always this chaotic and there’s a rhythm to the work as the seasons come and go.’ He smiled. ‘Things will be a lot easier now you’re here as I’ll only have the farm to worry about.’
‘The campsite is in good hands, I promise.’
‘I know. Well, goodnight and I’m sorry again for bothering you.’
‘You’re not a bother.’ She opened the door, letting in a gust of cold air that made her shiver. ‘It doesn’t look very nice out there. Are you sure you’ll be warm enough without a coat?’
‘I’ll be fine.’ A crack of thunder made them both jump, a brilliant white flash of lightning following swiftly on its heels. Rain began to drum against the upstairs balcony that sheltered the lodge’s deck from the worst of the elements.
‘You can’t go out in that!’ Tasha protested.
As tempting as it would be to shelter inside the cosy warmth of the lodge with her, Rhys had promised Jos a break. ‘There’s no such thing as nine to five when it comes to life on a farm. The work is always there, come rain or shine.’
She frowned. ‘I suppose so.’ Her expression brightened. ‘Wait there a second.’ Bemused, he watched as she ran across the room to rummage in the large storage cupboard next to the kitchen. She returned a minute later, brandishing a bright red umbrella. ‘There you go.’
‘Thanks.’ Rhys stepped out onto the deck and unfurled the umbrella, laughing when he realised it was a giant ladybird. ‘Cute.’
‘My sister gave it to me,’ Tasha said, her voice a little defensive. ‘It’s better than getting wet.’
‘It certainly is.’ Rhys lifted the umbrella over his head and struck a pose. ‘What do you think?’
Tasha laughed. ‘It suits you. Don’t get any ideas about keeping it, though.’
He grinned. ‘You might have to fight me for it.’
14
After saying goodbye, Tasha watched Rhys disappear into the night, the silly red umbrella bobbing above his head. Another gust of wind hit her and she closed the patio door with a shiver. Though the lodge was warm, she’d been standing around in her sweaty, damp clothes for too long and desperately needed a hot shower. She headed for the stairs, placed her foot on the first step and paused, remembering Rhys’s irrational worry about her slipping. His voice had been strangely neutral when he’d spoken about the loss of the lamb, almost as though he’d been reciting words from a script. It was clear it had hit him hard, regardless of what he’d said about it being part and parcel of farming life. She wondered if that had been the thing that had tipped him into overprotective mode.
Though his arrival had surprised her, she hadn’t found it an intrusion. Rhys, on the other hand, had grown increasingly uncomfortable about showing up unannounced, especially when she’d teased him about being able to manage without him. That comment he’d made about Amelia considering him a control freak hadn’t passed her by either. He didn’t strike her as overly controlling, more as someone imbued with a deep sense of responsibility. She knew from experience how hard it was to yield responsibility for a project to someone else and resolved to try and make life a bit easier for him. A couple of updates a day wouldn’t be a hardship, far from it. He was easy to talk to, when he wasn’t apologising all the time, and she found she wanted his input and some reassurance that he was happy with the way she was handling things. Reaching for the handrail, Tasha smiled to herself at the extra precaution and began to climb.
She was barely halfway up when the strident blare of Wagner’s ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ echoed above her. She jogged up the last few steps and into the bedroom, opened the top drawer of her bedside cabinet and took out her SJW mobile. One of the guys had changed the ringtone as a joke after she’d given him a hard time in a meeting over a succession of missed targets and she’d kept it as something of a badge of honour.
It was Simon. Of course. With one longing glance towards the bathroom, Tasha perched on the edge of the bed and answered it. ‘Hello.’
‘I was expecting to hear from you before now.’
Good God, she’d been there less than forty-eight hours. ‘I haven’t called because I haven’t got anything to tell you. I’ve barely done more than unpack my case and get my new laptop set up.’
‘You’ve got access to their systems, then?’ Simon sounded far too eager for her liking.
‘I can hardly do my job without access, now, can I?’
‘I suppose not. So, have you found out anything good yet?’
He couldn’t possibly expect her to start snooping around in their files, could he? ‘I only have limited access to the areas of the server I need.’ She didn’t know if that was true or not, but Simon didn’t need to know that. ‘Listen, you have to give me a chance to find my feet here. The campsite doesn’t operate in isolation and the whole estate team is gearing up for their first big open weekend at Easter. It’ll take me at least that long to get to grips with everything. I doubt I’ll have much to report before then.’
‘After Easter? That’s weeks away.’
‘I wasn’t aware I was on a strict timetable. I can’t just go charging around like a bull in a china shop asking intrusive questions. I need to demonstrate I can do the job they’ve hired me to do before I can start looking into how the rest of the operation works.’
