Forever His Darling. Sarah Randall

of the earth types, friendly to all travelers,” she chastised, and Matt heard Bob try unsuccessfully to stifle his laugh as she continued, “Apparently us Southerners have been living under a misapprehension that all Yorkshire people are warm and welcoming, walk around sporting a flat cap with a friendly ferret in their coat pocket.” She held her hand up towards the bar. “No offence Bob. But then I met you.” She drilled Matt with an accusatorial stare.

      Matt glanced back at the barman for support and took a deep breath. “Make that two pints Bob, and whatever Pip is drinking when she drags herself away from the games room.”

      Bob was still struggling to keep a straight face. “Sure thing. You ’n your feisty southern lass go ’n grab a table and I’ll bring ’em on over.”

      ***

      Matt ignored the barman’s comment as he turned to face her. “It seems Pip has abandoned you with me. Shall we?” Matt motioned for her to make her way over towards a quieter section of the bar and a table with two large red leather chesterfields in front of another roaring log fire. God she could get used to these, but there was no way she could have one fitted in her apartment in London. Not that it would ever get used, she was barely there… she caught herself and remembered that she’d be in New York soon and she doubted her apartment there, chosen by someone else, would have a real fire.

      Once settled she took a closer look around the warm, friendly, and inviting pub. It had taken about thirty minutes to walk there, slowed down by the snow and slippery road. She and Pip had become instant friends and had linked arms and giggled like school girls as they slid around almost losing their balance several times while Matt muttered to himself as he walked behind them with George in tow. It had suddenly hit her how much she had missed close female companionship. She and her mother hadn’t been close. Ever. She’d never had a sister or female cousin and her closest friend had been Alix. She decided that she liked it and could very easily get used to it, and that scared her. Two days; that’s all you’re here for Ana, then back to reality.

      The pub looked like an old coaching house with low hanging ceiling and exposed wooden beams: lots of brass trinkets scattered about and Toby Jugs hanging from those low ceilings. It was the sort of old style country pub that the big chains tried to replicate en mass, sometimes successfully. Both she and Matt had to duck their heads when they’d walked in and she’d smiled at the brass sign saying, “Duck or grouse”. She ducked.

      It was made up of a number of smaller rooms and it was clear that each area was distinct. The room immediately to the right as they entered entertained the more senior patrons enjoying card games and dominos and she imagined that, before the smoking ban, the room would have featured a permanent smoky haze. She could hear more enthusiastic noise from the far end of the pub and Pip had told her that that was where the games room was before disappearing off in search of James, leaving her with Matt and making a vague promise that she’d be back shortly. She began to wonder if she had been played by Pip and whether there was an agenda she was missing…

      The rest of the eclectic pub was made up of quiet tables with couples and families enjoying what looked like good home cooked food if the smells were anything to go by. There was a lovely atmosphere and every so often there would be a louder cheer and laughter from either the games room or from the chap’s playing dominos.

      Bob delivered their drinks and made a quick getaway. “Cheers.” Matt held up his pint glass to her and took a long gulp.

      “Cheers.” She sipped on the frothy beverage. Hmm, okay, an acquired taste but no way in hell was she going to say anything other than “Yum” as she placed her glass on the table and crossed her legs.

      “Okay, so if I’m going to be staying with you, I think it’s only fair you tell me more about yourself. It’s clear that you have formed an opinion about me so it’s only fair I get to see whether my opinion of you is correct.”

      He mimicked her position. “And what opinion is that? Not that I am remotely bothered, you understand, but please do enlighten me.”

      “I’m not ready to disclose it yet,” she challenged. “I’ll reserve my final judgment until the end of this conversation.” She took another sip of the disgusting drink.

      “Ha,” he chuckled, “what is this, Mr and Mrs?”

      “What? Not that I’m saying you would but you could just Google me to find out everything about the nitty gritty of my life. I’m sure even my bra size is on Wikipedia if anyone was interested.” She wasn’t joking.

      His intense stare made her feel nervous, but not in an entirely bad way.

      “Okay, let me get you started. Why are you so grumpy?”

      He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “Pass.”

      “You can’t pass,” she said, shaking her head and leaning forward.

      “I can do anything I want Miss Harper.”

      Okay, the Grumpy Farmer was back, she thought as she rolled her eyes and slumped back in her chair dramatically.

      He sighed. “Okay. Fine.” He conceded in defeat, “You win, but I’m not talking about that, and you first.” He smirked, pointing his finger at her. “Favourite film?”

      “When Harry Met Sally. You?”

      “The Italian Job. The original,” he added, raising his finger. “I loved vintage mini’s as a kid. Favourite… er, book?”

      “Easy, Gone with the Wind, hands down best book ever. You gotta love Scarlett’s independent nature and her attitude to life, not to mention the fabulous fashions of the mid eighteen hundreds. Not that I envy the tight corsets, although some of my shoes are likely just as painful. You?”

      “Oh erm, I’m not sure, probably just some Dan Brown thriller or something.” He shook his head and picked up a beer mat, twirling it in his hands.

      “Ah ah, no way Mr Darling. Come on, just tell me. If you don’t then I’ll just think the worst.”

      “Okay, fine, it’s The Princess Bride. Okay.” He pulled at the corners of the mat.

      Ana grinned and doing her best Vizzini impression lisped, “Inconceivable!”

      “Yeah, Yeah laugh it up.” He gently tossed the beer mat at her and she caught it on instinct. “Impressive.”

      “You’re a closet romantic aren’t you?! I love that book too. So did you read the kissing parts too?!”

      “No,” he refuted too quickly, “it’s got really good action sequences in it and Mrs H used to read it to me when I was a kid, and then Pip demanded I read it to her when she was younger. She insisted on me doing all the accents. You know…” He cleared his throat and in a hilariously bad Spanish accent quoted, “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” A wry smile curved from the corner of his mouth as reached to pick up his glass and drank his beer.

      Ana couldn’t help but laugh as his awful Spanish accent. “Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself. Don’t worry Farm Boy, your secret’s safe with me.”

      He rolled his eyes at her at her teasing. “Favourite ice-cream flavour?” he asked as a distraction.

      “Ben and Jerry’s Peanut Butter every time. Yours?”

      He pursed his lips and dropped his brows. “You know, I really don’t think I have a favourite, probably just boring vanilla.”

      “Even vanilla can be exciting… given the right topping,” she said, winking at him and then laughing at his bemused and slightly shocked expression. Was that a blush in his cheeks?

      And so it continued…When he wasn’t being grumpy he was actually good company, but she couldn’t fail to notice the inquisitive looks they attracted from the locals. Matt was clearly known to all and attracted a female following of varying ages, and some of the looks she received were positively venomous.