Page 3 of Starting Over at Halesmere House
She closed the front door and shivered the moment she was outside, in a jumper over a vest, wondering about going back for a coat. But the community shop was only up the road, and she didn’t want to keep the removal men waiting any longer than she had to; they were nearly done. She’d warm up if she walked quickly enough. Alice hurried down her drive and through an open five-barred farm gate leading onto the lane.
‘Oh!’ She stopped dead, not expecting six loose sheep nibbling at soggy grass on the verge, picking through hawthorn leaves fallen from a hedge. One sheep raised its head to stare, as though she was the one out of place here, and not them. She recognised the breed as Herdwicks and guessed they’d almost certainly escaped from the farm up the lane, her nearest neighbour, who bred them. The farm was on her way to the shop, so she’d call and let them know about the sheep. She closed the gate before they got in her garden and set off at the same quick pace, startling the sheep, who all shot off in the wrong direction.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ It would be dark soon and she really didn’t have time for this. She decided to follow the sheep, overtake and herd them back to the farm. It looked easy enough; she’d seen shepherds doing it. But the closer she got to the sheep, the faster they ran, and they were rounding a bend in the lane in a flash. She’d had no idea they could shift so quickly, and she trailed to a halt.
‘Want some help?’
She spun around at the shout to see a van had pulled up behind her and the driver had stuck his head and one elbow out of the window. In all the panicked bleating and the wind whipping her hair across her face, she hadn’t heard it approach. Alice wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill, the splash of rain cold and unwelcome. ‘Would you mind? They’re not taking much notice of me.’
He got out, holding a coat she was expecting him to pull on over a dark green T-shirt. Black workwear trousers were edged with reflective strips running down his thighs and calves, a different material padding out the knees. He jogged towards her, dark hair already becoming wet, and as he tossed the coat towards her, her hands automatically flew out to catch it.
‘You want to put that on? You look frozen.’
‘What about you?’ She shivered, already holding it like a shield.
‘I’m fine. I got wet at work anyway and I’m heading home to shower.’
‘Thanks.’ She tugged the coat on gratefully, her gaze meeting eyes as rich and intense as smooth dark chocolate, framed by long lashes. Brows were as dark as his short curls and his beard was sharp, hardly more than a few days’ stubble. She noticed a tattoo on the inside of his right forearm, a flash of lilac leaves flowing into green before copper and brown, forming the rough outline of a circle.
‘You’re not from around here, are you?’
‘Why would you say that?’ Alice questioned indignantly. She might not be a local quite yet but surely she didn’t stick out that much? She zipped up his coat, the scent of lime and something spicier woven into the fabric every bit as distracting as the smile playing around his mouth.
‘You’re outside in this weather chasing sheep without a coat, plus you’re wearing ballet flats. A real farmer would be in boots. So my guess is you’re here on holiday?’
‘Ballet flats? Most of the men I know would call them shoes.’ Her former colleagues had for the most part been great, but she suspected some of the male ones wouldn’t have known a high top from a heel.
Alice was trying to remember her management training, what she knew about body language and the supposed meaning behind a bottom lip that was fuller than the top one. Happy-go-lucky, she recalled, someone who liked to have fun. Sensual and spontaneous. All words she already thought suited him.
‘Have I got something on my face?’ The smile became a grin, and he ignored a phone ringing in a pocket on his right thigh.
‘I don’t think so.’ She was happy to let the wind do its worst with her hair again to hide her embarrassment. She’d worked with dozens of men down the years and she’d had no difficulty in maintaining a professional approach, no matter what they looked like or how they behaved.
So why was this one different? She put it firmly down to her developing determination to have some fun in her life, even if she was seriously out of practice when it came to flirting. Kelly would’ve had his contact details and made plans for a first date by now, and Alice choked back a laugh.
‘Good to know. But I really do have to run.’ His voice held plenty of amusement but no trace of an accent to suggest that he was a local. ‘What are we going to do about the sheep? They’ve legged it.’
Sheep? She was still thinking about telephone numbers and first dates, and her hand shot out a second time to catch a set of keys he flicked across.
‘I’ll go and see if I can turn them. You can drive?’
‘Just a bit.’
‘Could you back my van up to the farm? Hopefully then the sheep won’t be able to get past it.’
‘Aren’t you worried I might steal it?’
‘Are you planning to steal it?’ His smile widened again as he edged away.
‘No, but I probably wouldn’t tell you if I was.’
‘You really don’t seem like the kind of person who’d steal someone else’s van. You don’t look devious enough.’
‘That’s because you don’t know me.’ Was this flirting? It certainly felt that way, if the new colour on her face was a means of measure. Maybe it was just the wind.
‘Just don’t run me over if you do steal it, okay?’
‘I’ll do my best. Although I’d probably turn it round and drive off in the opposite direction.’
