Page 28 of Falling in Love at Pennycress Inn

‘It wasn’t?’ She turned, startled by his acceptance. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but she’d assumed he was still holding a grudge and hoping to milk another apology from her.

‘Unless you’re a netball coach, that is?’ He eyed her sideways.

‘Definitely not a netball coach. You can ask Miss Cooke to verify that, if you like. She still remembers my failed attempt at trying out for the team when I was a kid.’

Charlie chuckled. An unexpected sound Nicola hadn’t heard before, which was strange but oddly pleasing in a way.

‘So, umm, why did you want to walk with me? Or did you just happen to come out of the pub at the same time as me?’ She fiddled with the zip on her handbag as she walked. Should she have asked him? She could have just accepted it was a twist of fate that had them both walking in the same direction at the same time, but she had the distinct feeling it had been planned, and if so, she’d rather get whatever he wanted to complain about out in the open quickly so she could hurry up and get home for her nap.

‘Ah, there’s no pulling the wool over your eyes, is there?’ He glanced down at the pavement.

She looked across at him and held her hands up, palms forward, defending herself. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve decided not to help out with the carnival after all?’

He chuckled softly. ‘No, I’ve not decided to relinquish you the promise of borrowing my tractors and trailers. I do, however, feel I need to apologise.’

Halting in her tracks, Nicola stared at him. She might have only known him a few days, but she felt she knew him enough to realise this was uncharacteristic for him.

‘Don’t look so shocked. I admit I have been a little preoccupied these past, well, months, since learning I’d inherited the farm, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.’

‘Which time?’ she said, then grimaced. He was trying to be sincere, trying to apologise, and here she was just being sarcastic. ‘Sorry, I…’

‘No, it’s a fair comment.’ He stopped too.

‘How is it going? The farm, I mean?’ She began walking again. ‘I take it you’re not a farmer by trade? Not in your real life, anyway.’

‘My real life.’ He fell into step with her. ‘That’s one way of putting it. No, the last time I even stepped onto farmland would have been over twenty-five years ago when I last visited my uncle at Little Mead.’

‘Wow, you’ve not been on a farm in twenty-five years and yet now you’re running one?’ She raised her eyebrows. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.

‘That’s right.’ He nodded slowly. ‘Of course, the farmhands have taught me a lot – are still teaching me a lot. After all, they’re the experts and I’m just a city boy in foreign territory.’

A city boy? Looking at him walking next to her wearing jeans and a checked shirt, she couldn’t imagine him in a suit. ‘You work in London then? When you’re not inheriting farms?’

‘That’s right. Although I don’t know about farms. I think this will be the only one I inherit.’

‘Hmm, no wonder you want to sell up so quickly. Meadowfield is definitely not London.’

‘No, it sure isn’t.’ He looked around the street as they passed the Cotswold stone cottages and herb filled gardens. ‘It has a certain charm to it that the city doesn’t, though.’

Nicola smiled. She’d been to London, mostly with work but also on day trips, over the years and although it never failed to give her that excitable buzz, she was always glad to come home again.

‘And your job has kept your position open? While you get the farm ready to sell?’

‘That’s right.’ He leaned in towards her, lowering his voice in conspiracy. ‘One of the perks of being the big boss.’

She widened her eyes. He was the big boss in London? ‘Huh, that explains why you don’t like people ordering you around, then. You’re used to doing the ordering.’

A low chuckle filled the street, and he ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I guess that could explain things, yes.’

She glanced at him as they fell into an easy silence. The crease in his forehead suggested he was lost in his thoughts as they made their way through Meadowfield. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat. ‘I am sorry about your uncle. He was a good man. I remember spending much of my summer holidays over at his farm, hanging out with my friends in the orchard, or collecting eggs from the hens to take home to my mum.’

A sad smile crossed his features. ‘I wish I’d known him. I was just a child when my parents divorced and me and my mum moved up north. I often wished I could visit, but you know how it is, one side of the family tends to drop off the other side of the earth.’

‘Oh.’ With it always being just her and her mum, she’d never experienced that. Yes, she’d often wished for a dad who wanted to be in her life, but maybe it had been a blessing in disguise him leaving her mum when they’d found out Nicola was on her way. After all, it didn’t sound as though Charlie’s childhood had been much fun with his parents splitting up when he was a child.

‘Not that I’m blaming my uncle. Far from it. My dad should have made sure I was still part of the wider family instead of just visiting a couple of times a month if I was lucky.’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry, I’m not being very upbeat, am I? I just don’t want you thinking my lack of presence in Meadowfield had anything to do with my uncle. It didn’t. From what I remember when I visited before my parents split, he was a kind-hearted man.’

‘Yes, he was.’ She paused, waiting for him to stop too, before she wrapped her arms around him. After standing there for a few seconds, she finally felt his shoulders relax and his arms reach around her too. She wasn’t really sure why she’d done it, but he’d looked so distant, so preoccupied, and she’d just wanted to make him feel better. Stepping back, she glanced down at the pavement. ‘Sorry, I just thought you looked sad.’

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