I would have liked to flatter myself by thinking that it was the sight of me which had elicited his muddle-headedness, but realistically I knew if he was the man in charge, then it was more likely to be the appointment. Any deviation from my weekly work pattern could play havoc with me for days. There was no telling how I was going to cope now I had thrown my regimented hour-by-hour routine by the wayside.

‘I’m Sam,’ he then said, confirming my assumption. ‘The landlord here and the guy you were emailing about the cottage.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Sam,’ I smiled.

The brisk tone of his emails in no way matched his laidback, casual look. I would never have put him and his writing style together.

‘Pleased to meet you too, Tess,’ he smiled back, this time meeting my eye without his cheeks colouring.

He really was a good-looking guy and I couldn’t help thinking that there was something familiar about him, but it was probably more to do with the fact that he seemed gifted with a knack of putting folk at ease – a perfect trait for a landlord to have – rather than us having met before.

I had felt something similar when I was with Sophie, although not the same spark of attraction, so perhaps it was just the Wynmouth charm which provoked the sensation. I certainly didn’t remember Sam from my previous holidays, so it wasn’t the familiarity of recognition I found in his hypnotic gaze, but then those days were long passed now.

‘How are you finding the cottage?’ he asked. ‘Have you got everything you need?’

‘Yes,’ I told him, ‘everything’s wonderful, and I wanted to thank Sophie for making it so welcoming. Her curried crab was delicious.’

‘I’ll be sure to tell her,’ Sam said as, unasked, he made me another coffee. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to set things up for you myself, but I had an appointment I couldn’t miss.’

I didn’t say that Sophie had told me as much because I didn’t want him to think she had been indiscreet. Which she hadn’t.

‘It wasn’t a problem,’ I said instead.

‘I’ve been waiting for ages, you see,’ he carried on. ‘I’m having a new leg and there was an appointment cancellation, so I took it.’

‘You really don’t have to explain,’ I shrugged, then realization struck. ‘Hang on . . .’ I bit back the words and Sam started to laugh.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘you did hear that right. I’m treating myself to an upgrade.’

He walked back around the bar again and it was only then that I realized that the part of his lower left leg revealed beneath his khaki cargo shorts was prosthetic.