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She couldn’t supress her smile and relaxed back into the paint-splattered passenger seat, enjoying the patchwork of autumnal countryside flash by the window as they headed west towards the border with Wales. Finally, an hour later, they were bouncing along a bumpy dirt track that led to an isolated farm nestled in the Wye Valley.
‘What are we doing here?’
‘Wait and see, nosey.’
She rolled her eyes at his response but leapt down from the Land Rover onto the farm’s cobbled courtyard, shoving her fluffy-socked feet into Charlie’s ancient boots.
‘Now you are a proper country farm girl.’
To her surprise, Charlie swung his arm around her shoulders as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and directed their path to the farm’s chaotic office, the plethora of scattered agricultural implements straight out of a Hollywood western.
‘Hi, Mike. This is Rosie, the “high-flying New York City executive” I told you about. But today she’s kindly agreed to ditch the smart suits and stilettos to join us for a fun day out on the farm.’
Rosie ignored Charlie and reached out her palm to shake hands with Mike, a thick-set, thirty-something guy shipped straight from central casting for the role of farmer’s son.
‘You’re lucky to have this guy for the whole afternoon, Rosie,’ Mike grinned. ‘There’s many a girl would kill for that opportunity.’
Yeah, right, thought Rosie, wondering how much Charlie had slipped Mike to sing his praises.
‘Here are your helmets, guys; the bikes are ready. Help yourself, Charlie. You know the score.’
‘Cheers, Mike.’
Charlie’s eyes shone as he led Rosie to the dirt track behind the farmhouse, almost exuberant in his anticipation. She should have realised why he was so animated, because when she rounded the corner and saw what was waiting for them, she was forced to perform a double-take.
‘Oh, no. No way!’
‘It’s great fun, Rosie. Have you ever been on a quad bike?’
‘Charlie, look, I’m not sure this is a…’
‘Come on, coward. Give it a go,’ and he tucked her bushy tresses behind her ears before slamming one of the helmets down tight onto her head. She met his eyes for a split second and the rampaging nerves that were having a field day in her chest mingled with a frisson of excitement and something else she couldn’t identify.
After a short safety briefing from Charlie, she was let loose on the track. She squeezed the throttle of the bike gently and steered carefully around the muddy bends, her eyes and concentration focused solely on the route ahead.
‘Relax! Let the bike lead you!’ shouted Charlie from astride his quad bike on a raised grassy hill where he followed Rosie’s delicate progress. ‘Believe it or not, it’s easier if you increase the speed and just go with the flow!’
As Rosie gained confidence, Charlie left her to it and shot off to the rear of the track where he let rip, whooping with joy at the freedom to increase his speed. She watched him, guessing he’d done this many times before, and she realised with a jolt how little she knew of Charlie’s background except for his broken marriage and his dreams to become a chef. Where were his family? Why didn’t he have a girlfriend?
A moment’s lapse in her concentration sent her quad bike crashing into the side of a muddy mound, stalling the engine. Her whole body ached – her forearms and hands from the tension in her grasp on the handlebars, and her legs from controlling the heavy, powerful machine between her thighs. As she looked over her shoulder, she witnessed Charlie ascend a hardened slope of soil, lift the full weight of the bike into the air,and land smoothly on the other side accompanied by a whoop of exhilaration.
‘Wow, I’d forgotten how much fun this is. Come on!’
After another ten minutes, Rosie was done, and they returned to the farmyard where Mike was waiting to retrieve their helmets.
‘Enjoy that, Rosie?’ He helped Rosie remove her helmet, freeing her unkempt mane to ripple loosely in the sudden gust of wind.
‘I think so.’
She rubbed her arms and stretched the small of her back with her palms.
Charlie smirked. ‘And the fun’s not over yet.’
‘What? No, no more, Charlie. My arms are like lead weights!’
‘Moaning Millie. Come on.’
They followed in Mike’s brawny wake, his long stride necessitating a scamper from Rosie to keep up. As they rounded the back of a stone-built barn, she was blown away by the spectacular view out over the Wye Valley, which would have been much more picturesque had there not been a bank of heavy bulbous clouds on the horizon, darkened to indigo and violet, loitering above the rolling hills and the carpet of russet bracken.
