The sun was just breaking through the early-morning mist when she walked Rebel early the following day. The garden gate no longer creaked, thanks to a regular dose of oil, and Jenna paused for a moment to admire the pinks and purples in her garden before walking along the sandy path that led through the dunes to the beach. The stretch of sand was deserted and she slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot, loving the feel of the sand between her toes. Rebel bounded ahead, investigating pieces of seaweed and driftwood, tail wagging. Every now and then he raced back to her, sending water and sand flying.

Huge foaming breakers rolled in from the Atlantic, rising high and then exploding onto the beach with a crash and a hiss. Jenna watched as a lone surfer achieved apparently impossible feats in the deadly waves. Admiring his strength and the fluidity of his body, she gave herself a little shake and turned her attention to the beach. After twenty years of not noticing men, suddenly she seemed to do nothing else.

Seeing a pretty shell poking out of the sand, she stooped to pick it up. The pearly white surface peeped from beneath a layer of sand and she carefully brushed it and slipped it into her pocket, thinking of the chunky glass vase in her little bathroom, which was already almost full of her growing collection of shells.

She was pocketing her second shell when Rebel started to bark furiously. He sped across the sand towards the water just as the surfer emerged from the waves, his board under his arm.

Recognising Ryan, Jenna felt her heart bump hard against her chest and she forgot about shells. She should have known it was him from the visceral reaction deep in her stomach. It wasn’t men in general she was noticing. It was just one man.

Without thinking, she dragged her fingers through her curls and then recognised the futility of the gesture. She was wearing an old pair of shorts and a cotton tee shirt. Running her fingers through her hair wasn’t going to make her presentable. For a moment she regretted not spending a few moments in front of the mirror before leaving her cottage. Thinking of herself doing her morning walk in lipgloss and a pretty top made her smile, and she was still smiling when he ran up to her.

‘What’s funny?’

‘Meeting someone else at this time of the morning.’

He put his surfboard down on the sand. ‘It’s the best time. I surf most mornings, but I’ve never seen you out before.’ The wetsuit emphasised the width and power of his shoulders and she looked towards the waves, trying to centre herself.