Distraction

Chapter Ten

Robbie, after the previous evening's wine and chat, was grumpier than ever when she arrived at work making her wonder if he'd discovered who she'd gone out with. But if he had any interest in her date, he didn't show it. He didn't even look up from the paper. Hoping he wasn't cross with her, she collected her list, again longer than the day before, and headed off to feed the horses, hoping she could stay awake until lunchtime - a noble aim since she'd had less than five hours sleep.  

Four o'clock passed with no cup of tea, and at five, Libby admitted defeat, dropping the list on the worktop and stifling a yawn. 'Failed.' 

Robbie looked up from the pea negotiation he and Matilda were embroiled in and his frown couldn't be worse. When he fired her, would he call her Olivia too? But to her utter surprise, he smiled. He smiled. He wasn't cross. His aftershave wafted over her as he picked up the list, his arm accidentally brushing hers. Why did simply touching him make her blush?  

'Late night?' he asked, with a suspiciously innocent tone. 

'A bit.' 

'And how was the hot date?' 

Libby glanced at the floor, trying in vain to hide her burning cheeks. There'd been a moment the night before, when she'd almost relented, when she'd almost caved in and let Andy fuck her in the hallway, up against a wall, just like he'd suggested.  

She'd led him to the door, pooh-poohing his suggestion that he could stay, that nothing would happen - she'd heard it all before. But as she leant in to kiss him one final time, he'd gently pressed her against the wall, his knee easing hers apart and Libby's body flared into life. She hadn't been able to breathe as he looked her in the eye and her body pulsed when his fingers threatened to slide her dress up her thighs - that was the moment, but instead of seizing his opportunity, Andy merely kissed her cheek and said goodnight, leaving Libby practically whimpering with unfulfilled lust.  

'Hot,' she replied, unable to look at Robbie.  

'And who was your hot date?' 

'None of your business.' 

'Tell me who or you're fired.' 

She laughed, her embarrassment fading. 'You can't do that.' 

He raised his eyebrows, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of him mouth. 'Who?' 

'Andy Chapman.' 

The hint disappeared. 'Are you serious?'  

She lifted her chin, defying his judgemental scowl, but he merely shook his head and ushered Matilda and Dora into the living room. Libby screwed up the list, throwing it across the worktop where it pinged against two wine glasses. Arse. Had he intended to offer her a glass of wine again? Well, if he had, he clearly wasn't going to now.  

She plodded home, thoroughly ashamed because Robbie disapproved of her seeing Andy, but why should he care? It was nothing to do with him. He was her boss, that's all.  

At Maggie's cottage, Libby's melancholy fled when she opened the front door and a fresh, heady scent assaulted her. Dozens of peonies, all bunched in little glass vases, lined the hallway. Andy had done more than scrounge a bunch from his mum's garden - this had to be his mum's garden.  

Breathing in the bouquet from the prettiest lilac blooms, Libby tiptoed through the vases, laughing and trying to ignore a feeling of déja vu. This is how it started with Paolo, her heart filled with hope - hope that this would be the new love to replace her only love.  

After her two days off, most of them spent with Andy, Libby arrived back at the yard with no roots, no purple streaks but a new, Grace-like fringe. Thick and long, it fell into her mascara laden eyes, and when Robbie met her at the door, smiling, she held her hands together, in a pantomime-worthy, angel pose. She peeked out from under the fringe as he looked over her Metallica t-shirt, black denim jodhpurs and dark red nails. If she wasn't mistaken, he looked genuinely pleased to see her. And since he'd barely spoken to her all weekend, she couldn't be happier.