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‘Ouch.' I pull back.

‘We're going to need a “be gentle” command too.'

‘Okay, going back to the “good girl” – I mean “good dog” – command, what you do is give her the thumbs up, then the treat. Repeat that a few times.'

‘How many times?' I interrupt.

‘That depends on the dog. Mick would learn it the first time. I reckon it'll take Frosty, what, eight goes?'

‘Your personal trainer is being very disparaging about you,' I tell her.

‘Do it eight times, then give the sign and see what happens. If she looks for her treat, she's got it. Treat her and make a fuss of her when she does.'

Having got over my qualms about how embarrassing it is to be giving a dog the thumbs up, I show Frosty the signal and treat her eight times. Then I do the thumbs up again and wait. There's a long pause. At least, it seems very long to me, before Frosty gives me a nudge, as if to say: where's my treat?

‘Good dog,' I say, giving her two and rubbing her ears.

‘Give her the thumbs up,' Lewis says, ‘she can't hear you.'

‘OMG, I'm not very good at this,' I groan.

‘I told you I was going to find it more difficult to train the owner,' Lewis teases.

‘What next?'

‘We'll give her a break, take her for a stroll around the field and then try the thumbs up again to check she's got it.'

We walk around the field along the hedge, where deep pink soldier buttons and white milkmaids grow in the bank among the brambles. Further along, a flock of sparrows fly out with a flurry of beating wings, landing in the elder blossom opposite.

‘What about “No”? I'm going to need that one in the repertoire.'

‘You could have two versions,' Lewis says. ‘Shake your head and close your eyes briefly to break contact – you can use that for situations where she isn't doing what you want her to do – and an angry face when
there's an emergency. I'll have to get you to practise those.'

‘I'm going to feel like a complete idiot,' I say, laughing.

‘You won't worry after a while – it'll come naturally.'

We return to the trees and I walk Frosty past quietly on the lead. She isn't pulling or trying to run off, so I duck in front of her and give her the thumbs-up sign. She doesn't take any notice.

‘That was rubbish,' I observe.

‘It was. You need to be far more theatrical than that.'

I try again, making a dramatic thumbs up. This time, Frosty gets it and looks for the treat.

‘That's great,' says Lewis, giving me a thumbs up in return. ‘We'll finish there for today on a good note.'

‘Oh?' I say, feeling deflated. ‘Is that it then?'

‘You shouldn't over-train a dog because they get bored. It's better that they co-operate because they want to please you. Not only that, we shouldn't leave it too long before we have another session.'

‘Why is that?' I ask.

‘Because, not only will it be good for Frosty, this is one shepherd who's looking for an excuse to see you again very soon, if you don't mind, that is.'

‘Mind? Of course I don't mind. In fact, I'd love to see you again.' I can't help smiling – my cheeks ache. ‘Can I tell everyone I have a personal dog trainer?'

‘I shouldn't mention it to too many people – they'll all want one. Tomorrow?'

‘I'm working tomorrow. How about the day after?'

He nods. ‘Would you like coffee?' His mobile rings. ‘I'm sorry – it's Murray.'

‘Go ahead.'

Lewis apologises again when he finishes his conversation. ‘I'm afraid the coffee will have to wait. Murray wants me to take a ewe over to Talyton Manor vets – sometimes I wish sheep weren't so needy, or that they could drive.'

‘That's okay. I'll catch up with Emily. I'll see you soon.'

‘Same time, same place,' Lewis adds. ‘And make sure you practise. I'll know if you haven't.'

I pop in to the farmhouse for coffee with my sister and we sit in the kitchen, chatting.

‘I can't wait to see what else Lewis can do—'

‘I bet you can't,' Emily cuts in with a giggle.

‘With Frosty,' I say, blushing.

‘You haven't stopped talking about him.'

‘Did you have fun at Mum and Dad's the other day?' I ask, changing the subject.

‘I did, thank you. It was a relief to have some quality time with Daisy while Mum looked after Poppy. Daisy bit her big sister's finger at breakfast time – she only has a couple of stubs at the bottom, so it didn't really hurt. Anyway, Poppy says she was checking to see if she had any more teeth like I sometimes do – and now she wants Kev to come and arrest her.' I can hear the laughter bubbling up in Emily's voice and I'm glad she's feeling brighter.

‘You're sounding like you're coping better,' I say. ‘That's good.'

‘I know. I feel more like myself. Poppy's still very hard work, but I am able to laugh about some of the things she does, rather than cry every time.' Emily pauses. ‘So you'll be back to the farm very soon?'

‘I'm bringing Frosty back the day after tomorrow,' I say, and my twin gives me a knowing smile that makes me blush for a second time.

When I return to Greenwood Farm two days later, Lewis is waiting for me, freshly shaven and dressed in jeans and a navy sweater with leather patches on the sleeves. He greets me with a kiss on the cheek – not a brief peck, but a lingering caress of his lips that ignites a flame of desire in my gut. I know it's ridiculous because I hardly know him, but it is there nonetheless and continues to burn as we revisit the field behind the farmhouse to continue with Frosty's training.

We practise the commands she learned on the first occasion, then move on to another set when Lewis decides that it's me who's in need of urgent training, not the dog.

‘You aren't demonstrative enough,' he says, standing right in front of me.

‘What do you mean?' I say, shakily.

‘If you're going to give facial signals, you need to overemphasise them at first. Like this,' he adds, forcing a frown. ‘Or this.' He raises one eyebrow independently of the other.

‘What's that supposed to mean, apart from “I'm making myself look like a complete prat”?' I chuckle.

‘That's better,' he grins. ‘You do have a sense of humour . . . and you have the most amazing smile.'

‘What's that saying? My gran uses it. Flattery will get you everywhere.'

‘I think you mean flattery will get you nowhere, but I'm not complaining. Where's it getting me?'

I decide it's now or never. I'm risking rejection and hurt, but I'm pretty sure he likes me and it would be a shame not to find out if there can ever be anything between us because we're both too shy to ask. Holding his gaze, I reach out my hand. Lewis fumbles for my fingers and squeezes them tight, and my heart pounds.

‘You must have some idea what's going on here,' I stammer. ‘I mean, I really like you. You make me laugh.'

‘I like you too,' he cuts in, smiling. ‘Can't you tell?'

‘I can't always be sure . . .'

‘I think you're amazing, beautiful and funny –' Lewis lowers his voice – ‘and I think you're really hot.'

‘You're pretty hot too,' I say. I really fancy him and he fancies me too. I can't believe that I've thrown caution to the wind and admitted my feelings for him, but I feel liberated being with him, so very different from how I felt with Paul. ‘So when is our next training session?'

‘Well . . .' He pauses. ‘We could go out later for something to eat.'

‘I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going out with Claire.' It crosses my mind that I could cancel, but I can't do that to her. ‘She's stressing out about her wedding,' I say in explanation. ‘How about tomorrow after lunch?'

Lewis shakes his head. ‘Murray and I are going off
to pick up some gear he bought cheap in a farm sale. I think it's an all-day job.'

‘He's making you work seven days a week, even though lambing's over?'

‘I need the money. The pick-up's due an MOT.' He moves closer and at the same time, he pulls me towards him and touches his forehead to mine. My pulse races because I know what is going to happen next. Guiding me back behind the hedge, away from prying eyes, he places his hands on my hips and pulls me tight against his muscular body.

‘Oh, Zara,' he mutters, running his hand through my hair and twisting it through his fingers as he presses his lips to mine in a long, slow, lingering kiss.

I don't know how many minutes pass before I become aware of Frosty whining and straining at the lead wrapped around my wrist. I take a small step back.

‘Frosty doesn't approve,' I say weakly.

‘Does that bother you?' Lewis murmurs, his mouth brushing my cheek, a gesture that makes me melt.

‘Strangely enough, my dog's opinion is suddenly much less important,' I say, kissing him back.

Eventually, he draws away slightly. ‘I suppose we'd better save the rest for another time.'

‘Do you think there'll be another time,' I say archly.

‘There'd better be,' he says, giving me a quick hug. ‘I suspected that kissing you would take my breath away.'

‘You'd better be careful – it could be addictive.'

‘Well find out, I promise, but I think we'll stop there for now – I can see your sister peering around the curtains in one of the rooms upstairs.'

‘I'd better go,' I say eventually.

‘And I'd better put some hours in on the farm, otherwise Murray will be after me.'

We return to the farmyard where he collects Mick and Miley, and as I drive away with Frosty clipped safely onto the front seat, I notice how he gives me the thumbs up. I toot the horn and the orphan lambs scamper along the drive. I have to wait for Lewis to round them up and send them back.

Emily's on the mobile as soon as I arrive back at Gran's.

‘How did it go then?'

‘Frosty was a good girl.'

‘And you? Were you a good girl too, Zara? Come on. Fess up.'

‘There's nothing to say – you know exactly what happened because you were spying on us.'

‘I just happened to look out of the window,' she admits. ‘When are you seeing him again? You are seeing him again?'

‘Yes, but it's just a bit of fun,' and that's what I tell Claire too when we meet up the same evening at the Talymill Inn to listen to the band she's thinking about having as her second choice for the evening do at the wedding.

‘I've booked them already,' she explains as we make our way through the crowd with our drinks to the stage, where the band, a four-piece, are warming up. ‘I
just want to make sure they're good enough.'

‘Shouldn't Kev have some say in this?'

‘He's at work. And he hasn't got a clue about weddings. He's all for having a Hogwarts-themed occasion.' She frowns. ‘Do you think this is the right class of band for my special day?'

‘I really don't know. If they can play the kind of music you want, then yes, they must be.'

‘I'm not sure I like their image.'

‘Oh, don't be so fussy. So what if the drummer looks a bit shaggy and the singer has rips in his jeans? My gran wouldn't approve – she'd want to give them a shave and sew up the holes – but it's the sound that counts. They're pretty popular.' I look around the room. ‘It's packed tonight.'

Claire sips at her wine, apparently reassured.

‘Did I tell you Lewis snogged me?'

Claire touches the tip of her finger to her chin. ‘You know, I think you just might have mentioned it a couple of times since we arrived. Seriously, though, I'm really happy for you. It's time you had some fun after Paul and the divorce. Would you, you know, if he asked . . .?'

‘We haven't even been on a proper date. In fact, we aren't dating.'

‘But he kissed you . . .' Claire pauses as the band start playing an old Bon Jovi song, ‘Livin' on a Prayer'. ‘And you are going to see him again?'

‘Yes, he kissed me.' My toes curl at the memory of how that made me feel. ‘And I'm going to see him again, but not in a boyfriend-girlfriend kind of way.
I'm not looking for anything serious.' However, even as I say that, I know that if Lewis and I were alone and he kissed me again, it wouldn't necessarily stop there.

He calls me the following day, inviting me over for another training session because Murray didn't need him for the farm sale after all, but when I arrive, we walk the dogs for an hour or so and end up drinking tea in the annexe while Miley, Mick and Frosty mill around at our feet. Lewis shuts his dogs in the kitchen to give Frosty a chance to settle down, which she does, lying at my feet as I sit at one end of the sofa bed in the living area and Lewis sits at the other. At least, that's where he starts out. Gradually, though, he seems to shift towards me, until his thigh is touching mine, and then his arm is across the back of the sofa bed and his hand dropping down to my shoulder, his fingers tangling ever so gently in my hair.

I steal a glance towards him, breathing his heady, masculine scent of musk and aftershave.

‘Do you want me to stop?' he whispers.

‘Um, I don't know,' I mumble through the sound of the pulse that pumps at my eardrums. He's younger than me, yet he seems so much more experienced, and as his fingers caress my neck, I'm not sure I can, or want to resist. ‘I don't normally do this kind of thing.'

‘And what kind of thing is that?' he says, amused.

‘Well, what I think you're suggesting . . . going to bed in the middle of the day with a man I hardly know for a bit of . . .'

‘Fun,' he says. He leans closer and I can hear the catch in his voice when he goes on, ‘I've been aching
to make love to you.' As he presses his mouth to my ear, any remaining resistance I have disappears and I think, why not? Why not enjoy the moment? We're consenting adults, otherwise unattached, and I've never felt about anyone like I do about Lewis. I've never felt this urgency and passion.