The Dog Sitter: The new feel-good romantic comedy of 2021 from the bestselling author of The Wedding Date!

by Zara Stoneley

  On a bright sunny day with a cloud-free sky, the landscape probably sharpens, but this afternoon the soft golden rays of the June sun leave it muted and hauntingly beautiful.

  Below my feet is a soft cushion of mossy lawn, above me is open sky. Fresh air. Head space.

  And this is exactly why I came here. I know I’ve done the right thing.

  This is a place I’ll feel safe to sit and ponder in. This is a place that my fingers are itching to get down on canvas. It might not be inspiring me towards Teddy-style creations, but that’s not what I’m here for, is it? I need to rediscover what I want to do, find out if I can still paint at least some things after all.

  It really is bloody gorgeous. I can’t think of anywhere that’s ever made me want to stop and just ‘be’ before. Anywhere that has made me want to paint so desperately in a long, long time.

  I take in a deep breath and close my eyes; I am now breathing in pure, unpolluted air (as opposed to city-centre smog) and all I can hear is water, insects and birds (as opposed to city-centre traffic and piss-heads on their way home). And a dog panting.

  I sink back onto the cool grass and can’t help but smile as Bella crawls closer and tentatively licks my nose. I open one eye and reach out to fondle her ears.

  If it hadn’t been for Bella, I would have missed this magic moment right now. I’d have unpacked, curled up on the sofa and messed around with my phone, checking out my social media streams. I’d have brooded about Teddy and my lost commission, felt sorry for myself and wallowed in self-pity.

  Instead I’m in this perfect place, and okay, I’m still thinking a bit about how shit everything is in my life right now, but for a second or two there I wasn’t.

  Bella won’t let me, for a start. She paws at my hand, reminding me that I’ve stopped stroking her and she needs attention. ‘Alright, Miss Bossy.’ Actually, it’s going to be impossible to just think about me while I’m here, this little dog isn’t going to allow it. ‘You’re a right little attention seeker, aren’t you?’ She licks my chin, then groans and tilts her head so that I’ll rub behind her ear properly.

  It is kind of nice, feeling the cool grass under one hand, and the warmth of her silky coat with the other.

  But when I close my eyes again, all I can see is the man she was kissing with total over-enthusiasm just moments after I got here. Boy, talk about puppy-love. If anybody ever falls for me that hard, my life is complete.

  Though, to be honest I totally get it. I wouldn’t mind a sloppy snog with him myself. Big, sexy, totally hot Ash James.

  A bolder lick, that also involves nibbling teeth, breaks the spell. ‘Hey, stop it.’ I open one eye and she’s peering down her nose at me, her warm, doggy breath fanning my face. ‘Have you never heard of personal space?’ She wags her tail and leans in closer so that I have to put a hand on her chest to keep her from sticking her tongue in my mouth. I laugh at her. ‘And French kissing is a no-no, okay?’ She wags her tail harder and puts her full weight against my hand. Bella has to be the happiest dog I’ve ever met.

  Mmm, French kissing. If that man tastes as good as he looks…

  Shit. I must stop fantasising. And I must keep my mouth closed. ‘Bella, stop it, before I get cross!’ She barks. She knows I’m not going to get cross. I don’t. Instead I run my hand over her velvet-soft ears.

  I’m here to chill, and work, and think about just me for a change and what I want.

  I am not here to kiss men. Definitely not. Even if it is hard not to want somebody that looks that fit. And when I say fit, I mean in every way imaginable. Where does a man get muscles like that? Seriously, he has got to be SAS, or at the very least some kind of personal trainer. And eyes, I mean, how can somebody glance at you and you feel like they see everything? I don’t know whether it’s scary or exciting.

  Well, I do. I’m getting goose bumps just thinking about it.

  Teddy, my git of an ex, never made me feel like that. Sharing a glance with Teddy was like, well, like sharing a glance with my brother. Or my dad.

  Except my dad would never be that horrible to me.

  ‘Oh, bloody hell Bella, why am I even thinking about the evil sod?’ I must NOT think about Teddy. I’m here to get away from him.

  If I think about him, then I won’t be able to work. And he will have won.

  Bella stops trying to stick her tongue down my throat, and instead collapses against me, snuggling in closer. She rests her head on my chest, cold wet nose only inches from my own. It’s kind of soothing, stroking a dog. Feeling their warm body pressed against yours, the sound of gentle breathing as lulling as waves lapping a beach. ‘You get it, don’t you?’ I sigh. She snuffles and stretches her legs out to make herself more comfortable, then with a gentle groan rolls onto her back so I can stroke her tummy.

  Dogs are so trusting. I’m a stranger in her home, somebody she has never met before that she has to rely on to feed and look after her. And just like that, within hours, she’s decided I’m okay.

  I think I need to be ‘more dog’.

  Bella does get it. She’s more in tune with me than Teddy ever was. In fact, I think she knows how to be what I need right now even more than my family does. I can also tell her anything and have absolute confidence that it will not go any further. And she won’t judge me or tell me I’m crap at what I do and should consider a career change.

  I can’t believe Teddy actually said that. The total git.

  Argh, I’m thinking about him again!

  Bella kicks me as my fingers tighten in her fur, and I make a conscious effort to relax. She doesn’t approve of stress.

  But I can’t let go, just like that.

  Not when he tipped my whole life upside down.

  Even if Dad’s only comment on the whole thing has been ‘Don’t let him win, you’re stronger than that.’ Sometimes I don’t feel strong.

  Bella nudges me with her nose and I glance down at her. I need to think about Bella, walks and chilling.

  Chapter Five

  Okay, I might have arrived here with slightly unrealistic expectations. I’d thought that getting away to a beautiful place like this would inspire my work. It has relaxed me, it is fabulous and it is inspiring, but I’m not getting much work done.

  In reality, the work aspect has hit snags because of:

  My mother.

  The mad cockapoo that is adorable but totally inexhaustible. The longest she sits still is seven minutes and forty-six seconds (I timed her).

  The dread (or should that be anticipation?) of people knocking on the door despite the fact I am miles from anywhere. Honestly, at the slightest sound, Bella leaps up and barks which makes my heart skip into my mouth and sends me running to the window after her. I’m turning into a nervous wreck, because believe me, if a bird farts Bella will hear it and get excited. We both peer out all tense and expectant, which is ridiculous.

  Okay, to be fair, the third point is strictly speaking only about one person. Ash. And as far as Bella goes, I think it’s more about the chance there will be a squirrel, rabbit, a big bird or even a small bird, or anything that moves really, in the garden.

  Number three haunted me most of the night. My mind was a jumbled mess of I’ll-be-back Arnie Schwarzenegger striding towards me, Bella under one arm, an axe in his other hand (I think my subconscious is still saying woodchopper and gardener, not ex). Then he whips off his shades and it is Ash.

  I woke up in a sweat several times, just as he started to whip off his uniform in the style of Magic Mike. I think I’ve been watching too many movies with hot men in.

  Anyway, in my waking moments I kept hearing strange noises. Not even SAS men can climb brick walls and break into your bedroom, can they? Okay, that’s just me fantasising. I’m sure he’s not actually SAS, he’s just a normal man.

  Bella (who was sleeping on the bed, not in her own room as specified on the list) snored throughout all my nightmares. So, maybe the noises were just the normal sounds of the house, and nature outsid
e. Or maybe she’s a very heavy sleeper, because I must have kicked her at least once as I thrashed about.

  I did eventually drift off into a proper sleep, only to be woken up when number one on my list of snags kicked in at what felt like about thirty seconds later.

  ‘Becky, why does it say on Facebook that you’re in the Lake District?’

  Bloody hell, I really do need to block her. ‘Because I am, Mum.’ Okay, being in the middle of nowhere doesn’t solve all my problems. I might have to add ‘don’t answer the phone’ to my to-do (or to-don’t) list. Except then she’d send out a search party. Or just worry. Neither of which would be fair. ‘Stop it!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not you, Mum. It’s Bella, she’s licking my nose.’

  ‘Bella?’

  ‘It’s the dog.’ I fondle her ears. It was quite nice to cuddle up to somebody in bed last night, instead of being home alone.

  She pauses. I hate long pauses; it means she’s about to say something that I might not want to hear. ‘Teddy has announced his new cover designer.’

  Where on earth has she seen that? ‘I thought you’d blocked him on Facebook?’

  ‘I have. This was on Instagram. Oh, why didn’t you tell us, darling? That’s horrible of him, and you work so hard.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t nothing. That’s why you were so upset wasn’t it? I just knew there was more to it than you two splitting up. Oh Becky, you should have said something.’

  Bella stands up as though she senses I need a distraction, and shakes herself, then jumps off the bed and barks. I guess this is dog-speak for ‘Let me out in the garden, I need a wee.’ She’s good at making her requirements known, and I’ve got a feeling one of them is going to be getting out of bed early. Which is good, it means I get a full day’s work, something I’ve found difficult lately. It’s the whole, what’s the point if all I produce is crap, scenario. Bella doesn’t care about that though.

  ‘I think you are so much better off without him, darling. I didn’t like to say, but I wasn’t that keen on—’ meaning I hated ‘—the pictures he got you to do. Your other paintings are so much nicer, more you.’

  ‘He was building my career, Mum.’

  She makes a harrumph sound. ‘If you say so. I mean, what do I know? But did you really have to go so far away? I mean, we could have gone out for afternoon tea, or shopping. I could have taken you to that spa you like and…’

  I get out of bed and head down the stairs as she talks. It’s impossible to tell her, because I know she loves me, and I know she means well, but the last thing I want right now is a girly session in the spa, discussing my ex with my mother. There’s a little lump in my throat, and I almost feel on the verge of welling up, but I stop myself. I’m here to get away from all the sympathy. To have some space. Get my act together. Work.

  ‘I know, Mum. Maybe when I get back? It would be nice then, and I’m only here for a month, and I’ve got a sh—’ I stop myself on the verge of saying ‘shitload’. ‘Shedload of work to do. It’s just easier here, completely on my own. In the middle of nowhere. Here you go Bella, go wee!’ I open the back door, and the dog bounds out.

  ‘You’re all on your own? Miles from anywhere?’

  Probably better not to mention SAS men. ‘Well, not miles, I can see a house.’ If I stand on my tiptoes, on a large box, at the bottom of the garden. ‘It just feels like I am. It’s quiet.’

  ‘Ahh. Won’t you be lonely?’

  ‘I can chat to you and other people on the phone, I’ve got Skype and Zoom and stuff for work, and I’ve got Bella!’ Speaking of which, Bella is now barking wildly. ‘Look Mum, I’d better go and see what’s up with her.’ I stand by the open door. I’m sure I can hear squeaking. Maybe she’s just playing with a toy? Better to be safe than sorry though. ‘I’ll call you later, okay?’

  ‘That’s fine, Becky. As long as you’re okay. So, what are you going to do with yourself today?’

  ‘Dog walk, then work.’

  ‘You can always bake if you’re bored when you’ve done that.’

  ‘I’m not bored.’ See? She thinks my work is a little sideline, ten minutes’ scribbling a day. ‘I’ve got plenty of work to do, three commissions!’ I have. They’re only small, not very well-paid jobs, compared to what I was doing for Teddy. But I got them on merit, and the encouraging noises over the past couple of weeks have started to make me think that maybe, just maybe, I can still do this job.

  ‘Did I tell you they’ve given Abby an office on the first floor?’ Oh God, here we go. Abby, my perfect, younger sister. She’s so frigging perfect it should make me hate her, but I don’t. That’s the other annoying thing. She’s nice. Abby has a proper job – she’s a solicitor, like Dad.

  When I first finished college, and work was a bit thin on the ground, Mum did say (just the once), ‘Why don’t you retrain as a solicitor? Abby just got a pay rise, and you’ll never believe how much it was!’ This was followed up by ‘This flat really is a bit cosy isn’t it? Wouldn’t you like one where you have to get off the sofa to open the door?’ Yes, I would. ‘A dog or cat would be company, you really should move somewhere they allow pets. And maybe somewhere with a garden?’ It might have been easier.

  ‘Wow! The first floor!’ I jiggle about, I really should check on Bella.

  ‘It’s a move up.’

  ‘Well, down actually, she was on the fourth.’

  ‘You know exactly what I mean, Becky!’

  Sadly, I do. There is a hierarchy. A desk on the first floor means you are one step closer to the fifth floor – which is where the seniors have offices. I know. It’s complicated.

  ‘It isn’t too late, you know. You could always re-train.’

  ‘Mum!’ I am the black sheep of the family. We were all supposed to come out as fully formed solicitors. My brother, Daniel, went a bit bananas and decided he wanted to be a barrister, but that kind of bananas is fine. My kind isn’t. My family deal in facts, not inspiration and creativity (well, sometimes creativity, but more along the same lines as creative accounting but with facts about people, not money).

  ‘Well, as long as you’re happy, love. I know this Teddy business has dented your confidence.’

  With a sledgehammer.

  ‘Sorry, Mum, I’m going to have to find the dog, I’m not supposed to let her out of my sight.’

  We say our goodbyes before she has a chance to say anything else and I dash outside.

  Bella is very excited. She is not doing a wee, she is doing zoomies around the garden, barking wildly and lunging at the shrubbery. Strangely, she keeps launching herself at one particular shrub. Maybe there’s a squirrel or rabbit in it?

  I would shout at her to shut up, but I know I’d be wasting my breath. I tried that last night when she decided to bark at a hedgehog that had wandered up to the patio windows.

  She bounces onto the soil again, dives through the undergrowth and I’m sure I hear a yell. Unless it’s a bird? Then she emerges further along the border looking very pleased with herself, her long ears adorned with grass, a single daisy dangling from her mouth.

  Then I hear the squeaking again, and it isn’t Bella playing with a toy, even though it’s made her ears prick and she’s stalking the bush again, cat-style.

  I try not to laugh at her, and instead I skirt around the edge of the grass on the opposite side and creep up towards the border from behind.

  The shrub is definitely squeaking, and not in an ‘I’m a rabbit trying to stay alive’ kind of way. More in an ‘I’m a squeaky toy that somebody is squeezing’ fashion.

  Bella can’t resist a second longer; she zooms in at top speed, wagging her tail and jumping about at the same time, and the bush makes an ‘oomph’ sound before she dashes off again and starts spinning around in circles.

  There are a pair of large feet, or rather boots, sticking out from the shrub.

  I take a tentative step forward, holding my breath as though it�
��s going to make me quieter. I am so close I could hit whoever it is over the head, if I’d thought to bring a weapon with me. Surely there must be a branch handy?

  It’s gone strangely quiet. Because Bella has stopped barking. She has stopped moving. She is staring directly at me with an inquiring look on her face. The word ‘shit’ is still forming in my head when it happens.

  ‘Eurgh.’ I was about to say ‘what?’, but it’s too late. I know the answer. I’m flat on my back and Bella is bouncing about with glee. ‘Please don’t jump on my stomach, please don’t…’ Too late. ‘Argh.’

  What the hell happened? I peer past her. My ankle is being held firmly by one very large hand (result! This makes my ankles look positively sylphlike). I glance to my side, half knowing what I’m going to see; a pair of startlingly blue eyes stop me dead.

  Oh my God, those eyes are blue. The bluest of blue.

  ‘You!’ we say simultaneously. He props himself up on one elbow, so that his bicep flexes, and grins.

  I try to copy, and grimace before flopping back down. ‘Ouch.’

  I’m side by side with the terrible Ash, like lovers in an herbaceous border, and all I can do is rub my elbow. He didn’t clamber up my walls, he wriggled his way through the undergrowth.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ is the first thing that comes into my head. Better than ‘Come here often?’ I guess. I’d noticed he had blue eyes yesterday, but up this close they take on a whole new intensity.

  Must stop staring into them.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He looks slightly worried.

  ‘Sure.’ I stop rubbing and try and look chilled. As though I’m used to being flipped onto the floor, in a judo-throw kind of way, not a sexy way if you know what I mean. Though I’m not used to that either. Teddy wasn’t the type to throw you on the bed and have his wicked way. He offered an invitation, turned back the duvet then straightened the sheets.

  ‘Good.’ His frown disappears. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’ He winks, not looking at all uncomfortable at being found loitering in somebody else’s garden. ‘You?’ His gaze never drifts from my face, but I am suddenly very aware of the fact that I am still in pyjamas and have bedhead hair.