‘It’s not nice when a so-called pal makes a play for your other half.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘You and Sam after hours in the pub Saturday night . . .’

‘What about me and Sam in the pub after hours Saturday night?’

‘You kissed, didn’t you?’

‘No,’ I snapped, ‘we didn’t, of course we didn’t.’

‘You’ve gone a bit pink,’ he said, raising his eyebrows.

‘Well, so would you, if I’d just accused you of doing something you hadn’t done. I’m angry, that’s why I’ve gone red!’

I couldn’t believe the turn the conversation had taken. Here we were eating cake, drinking tea, bathed in the scent from the beautiful and fragrant roses and he was accusing me of pinching someone else’s man!

‘I haven’t brought this up to make you angry, Tess.’

‘Then why have you brought it up and, more to the point, who told you about this non-event in the first place?’

‘I heard it in the pub,’ he further shocked me by saying. ‘I called here after I’d done in the village, but as you weren’t in, I risked a coffee in the Smuggler’s and that’s when I heard about it.’

‘I see,’ I said.

I was surprised that he had gone in unaccompanied.

‘And I’m mentioning it because as much as I hate to see Sam and Hope together, I don’t want her to get hurt. If you’ve started anything up with Sam, then please put a stop to it, Tess.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

‘I haven’t started anything up,’ I said, louder now, ‘with anyone. I have no idea who was gossiping but it’s all bullshit.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said, sounding unconvinced. ‘I suppose this is my cue to go.’

‘Yes,’ I said, jumping to my feet and thinking that we were parting on less than ideal terms again, ‘I suppose it is.’

I slammed the door behind him and paced about the cottage wondering why the hell Sam had been talking about, and embellishing, what had happened when there was every chance that Hope might find out. It really didn’t make sense, but as the only person who knew about it, Joe couldn’t possibly have got his ‘first-hand’ information from anyone else, could he?

I grabbed my keys, slid my feet into my sandals and made a beeline for the pub, determined to get to the bottom of it all.

‘What can I get you?’ asked the lad behind the bar who was helping out on a regular basis now business had picked up.

‘Nothing,’ I said, pointing along the bar to where Sam was tipping ice into a glass, ‘I don’t want a drink, thanks. I just want him.’

‘Oh landlord,’ laughed the two guys next to me, ‘there’s a woman here who wants you.’