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No. Rhys shut off the water and his daydreaming about Tasha at the same time and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a thick towel around his hips and using a smaller one to squeeze the water from his hair. Hanging the smaller towel around his neck, Rhys surveyed his reflection in the misty bathroom mirror. He really ought to have a shave. He scrubbed a hand over the rough stubble of his beard, deciding it could wait for a few more days. As he crossed the landing towards his bedroom he heard the kitchen door open below and the dogs started barking. It didn’t last more than a couple of seconds and he recognised the deep timbre of his father’s voice. The noise must’ve just been them greeting him and their friend, Hercule, home for the evening.
Given Ziggy’s reassurance that there was no rush before dinner, Rhys carried on into his room and changed into an old T-shirt and a pair of soft cotton jogging bottoms. He lay back on his bed, one arm propped behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. The whorls and grains of the old wooden beams were as familiar to him as the scars on his fingers, and he let his mind drift as his eyes idly traced the patterns overhead.
What had happened between Ziggy and Daisy all those years ago? He had a feeling both Hope and Amelia knew more about it, but he’d never got around to asking them. Maybe it had something to do with Ziggy being the heir to the estate. Taking on that kind of responsibility wasn’t something for every woman – maybe Daisy had decided she hadn’t wanted to deal with it. Rhys couldn’t blame her if that was the case, although a part of him wished it hadn’t taken the pair of them over a quarter of a century to work out their differences. If they had then perhaps they’d have had children of their own, a son even, and Rhys wouldn’t have those same responsibilities hanging over him. It was foolish to wish for the impossible. And what was it his mother had always said to him?
If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.
Well, whatever had led his uncle to remain childless, Rhys didn’t have the excuses of a broken heart. It had hurt like hell when Amelia had broken up with him, but he’d loved her with the wildfire of youthful passion, quick to catch and even quicker to burn out. Oh, he still loved her and would do anything for her, but not like that. Watching her fall for Ben had been something of a catharsis, his gentler, more thoughtful cousin a much better match for Amelia than Rhys had ever been. She wasn’t a pushover, but she’d hated challenging Rhys. Rather than standing up to him when he overstepped, she’d preferred to walk away.
What Rhys needed was someone who would call him on his own bullshit. Someone like Tasha, who faced him down one minute then fixed him a cup of coffee exactly the way he liked it the next. No sulks or silent treatment, just a matter-of-fact reminder of where the line was and an expectation he would step back behind it and they’d move on. But these were dangerous, dangerous thoughts. Tasha was there to do a job, a job he desperately needed her to do. For all her independence, she was also his employee and, though they might blur the lines a little in the way they did things at Juniper Meadows, there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed.
Perhaps he should ask Hope and Amelia for advice. They knew him better than anyone, maybe they’d take pity on his plight and help him find a girlfriend. He cringed at the thought, already able to picture the two of them trying not to laugh as he threw himself on their mercy. But it was that or those infernal dating apps, and, Christ, wasn’t that the most depressing thought in the universe? Maybe he could talk to Tasha about it, see if she would take him on as a project. With her efficient colour-coded lists, she’d have him out on the market, a selection of suitable candidates screened and ranked in preference order. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had… close, but not the worst and deep down he was beginning to recognise the truth.
He wanted Tasha Blake to take him on. Full stop.
17
The morning the first guests were due to arrive, Tasha was up at the campsite before the sun had fully risen. She’d had a terrible night’s sleep, somehow more nervous for the arrival of a dozen campers and caravans and about the same number of hardy souls who were bringing tents to pitch than she had been for a major presentation at SJW. Notebook in hand, Tasha walked around both sections of the campsite, looking for anything out of place. By the time she’d completed a full circuit and returned to the car park she had just two things scribbled down and they were so picky it had been more to prove to herself she wasn’t getting wet feet from the early morning dew for nothing.
A small white van pulled up outside the shop and Joe climbed out of the driver’s seat. ‘Morning! I thought I’d be the first one up here.’
Tasha tucked her notebook into the pocket of her coat and joined Joe at the rear of the van as he swung open the doors. ‘Just doing a last-minute check, that’s all.’ She hesitated and then added, ‘I couldn’t sleep.’ It wasn’t something she’d have admitted to one of her co-workers but there was something about the big, friendly man that invited the small confidence.
Joe gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘It’s a big day for you so that’s understandable.’ He reached into the back of the van and lifted a crate of fresh milk out. ‘Not that you’ve got anything to worry about, mind. I was telling Martha last night what a fantastic job you’ve done – and in such a short space of time, too! We’re already excited to see what else you’ll achieve over the next few months.’
‘Thank you.’ Tasha felt her cheeks burning and used the excuse of lifting out a tray full of fresh fruit. It was so silly to get emotional over a few words of praise, and, besides, she wasn’t the only one who’d pulled out all the stops. ‘I’m really proud of what we’ve all done here. I think it’s going to be a summer to remember.’
Between them they had the van unloaded and the fridges stocked in less than ten minutes. Joe locked up, promised he’d be back by ten and headed off to do his deliveries. He’d barely driven out of sight when the familiar black bulk of one of the Juniper Meadows-branded Range Rovers turned into the car park. Rhys, no doubt, come to check up on her. No, that wasn’t fair, because he’d shown nothing but faith in her since day one and when he did come to see her it was more of a welfare check than because he felt the need to supervise her work.
To her surprise, it was Zap rather than his son who pulled up next to her and lowered the window. His salt-and-pepper hair looked as if it hadn’t seen a brush in a while, but he was clean-shaven and she caught a whiff of a lemony aftershave as he leaned out of the window towards her. ‘Ah ha! My Ro was right when she said you’d be up and about already,’ he said, with a cheery grin. ‘Now then, is she going to be two for two when she guessed you probably hadn’t made time for breakfast yet?’
Tasha couldn’t help laughing. ‘In my defence, I was just about to head back to the lodge and eat something.’
‘Well, I’ve saved your legs the walk, then.’ He held up an insulated bag and a large flask. ‘Can I tempt madam to a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea?’
‘Oh, yes, please!’
‘Hop in, then.’ Zap gestured with his head towards the passenger seat. Tasha rounded the car and opened the door to find Hercule curled up on the soft leather. ‘Hercule, my old friend, you’ll have to make way for the lady,’ Zap said, setting the bag onto the front console so he could scoop the terrier out of the way. ‘He’s a big fan of the heated seats.’
Tasha settled gratefully into the warmth of the car with a sigh. ‘I have to admit he’s not the only one. I hadn’t realised how cold it was.’
‘I love these bright, crisp mornings, though, makes you glad to be alive. Now, my dear, why don’t you help yourself while I pour?’
Tasha was soon clutching half a sandwich in one hand and a piping-hot mug of tea in the other as she stared out of the front window. The high vantage point of the Range Rover offered her a great view beyond the dry-stone wall that edged the campsite and marked the boundary of the estate and over the rolling countryside. The fields were a patchwork of browns and greens and she could make out a red tractor in the distance, already chugging along. ‘We’re not the only early birds,’ she said, pointing with the corner of her sandwich towards it.
‘That’s country life for you. Once summer hits her stride the place will be buzzing with activity.’ He sounded as if he couldn’t wait.
Tasha munched on a corner of her sandwich, savouring the salty goodness and the soft wheat bread. Nothing like the pre-packed, mass-produced supermarket stuff she was used to. ‘Are you looking forward to Easter?’
Zap took a sip of his tea and nodded. ‘Can’t wait. You should’ve seen the place at Hallowe’en and again at Christmas with all the little ones running around. It made this old man’s heart glad to see so much joy.’
‘You’re not old,’ she scoffed.
Zap grinned. ‘Tell that to my knees on these cold mornings. Seriously though, it’s so wonderful to see what my Rhys and the rest of you are bringing to the estate. I’m proud of what we’ve achieved but your generation is going to take us to a whole new level that will help secure the future. It’ll take a lot of pressure off my boy and for that I’m eternally grateful.’
‘Rhys does seem to assume a lot of the responsibility,’ Tasha mused, wondering where he’d got it from. Both Zap and Rowena were obviously the kind of people who took care of everyone who came within their sphere of influence, which was why she was sitting in the warm right now with a full stomach, but they didn’t carry the same level of intensity their son did.
‘Goes with the territory.’ When she gave him a puzzled frown, still not certain what he meant, Zap elaborated. ‘Rhys is third in line to the title. Second in all but the technical sense. I’m next after Ziggy, but I’d be the baron in name only and hand the responsibility over to Rhys. I wouldn’t leave him in the lurch, not the way our father did to us, but I’d take a back seat and let him run things as he sees fit. Not that I’m planning on outliving Ziggy. Life without him, well…’ He shook his head.
