Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Matthew stood on the gravel drive near the front doors of Foxwood, smiling as the car appeared around the corner. They were finally here.
He’d offered to pick up his friends from the airport that Friday evening, but Cedric had insisted on driving up from Wales himself and collecting the others from Manchester Airport before heading to Yorkshire.
Seeing Cedric’s beloved Tesla, Matthew finally understood. The man was obsessed with the car. He would take any chance he could to drive it.
Matthew raised his hand in greeting as the white vehicle approached much faster than he would have expected, but when he saw who has actually driving, a grin spread across his lips.
He should’ve known. Cedric wasn’t driving. Finn was. How in the world had he convinced Cedric to agree to that?
As Finn reached the end of the drive, he turned sharply, skidding to a halt in front of Matthew as the disrupted pea gravel flicked toward the front porch, clacking in protest.
Matthew walked forward with an amused shake of his head as Finn opened the driver’s side door first, his face alight with exhilaration. “Woo, what a rush! ”
Matthew laughed. “I was wondering how you all made it here so quickly. Quite the entrance, O’Meara.”
Finn raised his eyebrows in a flex. “You like that? I thought I’d try to give wee Cedric here a heart attack, but it didn’t work.”
Cedric leapt out of the passenger side with a frown. “That’s the last time I give you the keys, Finn.” He faced Matthew with a shake of his head. “Nearly wrecked it fifteen times. He does me head in.”
Graham exited the car last. “Both of you just need to relax,” he said, his Scottish accent thick. “Clearly, Finn had it under control.”
“What, nearly dyin’?” Cedric questioned, gently closing the passenger door. “You blew past so many speed cameras, I’ll be fined hundreds of quid.”
“I’m sure you can afford it,” Finn returned. “Just sell one of your autographs and you’ll be right.”
Matthew grinned, greeting each of his friends with a short embrace and a clap on their backs. To have the four of them back together was exactly what he needed right now.
“Have you driven one o’ these, Matt?” Finn asked, his Northern Irish accent all the more prominent with his excitement.
He jutted a thumb over his shoulder toward the car, still not over their conversation. “It handles better than a tour bus, I tell you that.”
“Of course it does, you plonker,” Cedric said, opening the back of the Tesla as they gathered their belongings.
“It might even rival Matt’s beater over there,” Graham teased, motioning to the rusted, red Mini Cooper. “I can’t believe you still have that.”
“Of course I do,” Matthew defended. “She’s worth more than your pipes.”
The Scotsman snorted in disbelief. “You mad bampot.”
A long, low whistle sounded from Finn behind them. “Who’s drivin’ that ?” he asked .
All eyes shifted to the Aston Martin in the drive. Matthew hesitated. “That would be the…consultant’s.”
Looks of understanding passed between the lads and Matthew. “Ah, ’course,” Finn said. “And do we get to meet this infamous consultant today?”
Matthew scoffed. “Absolutely not. Nor will you be meeting her ever.”
After he had spoken with Winnie’s family on the video chat, she’d avoided him. After Matthew had spoken with her in the stables, she’d full-on ignored him. It was just as well. He was ignoring her, too. It seemed that they both wanted to pretend that their conversation hadn’t occurred—the conversation where they’d behaved more as friends than standoffish colleagues. Who knew what sort of trouble his real friends would concoct if they did meet her.
“Oh, come on,” Graham protested. “You’re really going to deprive us of the pleasure of seeing her for ourselves after all we’ve heard about her?”
That was even more of a reason to keep his friends and Winnie separated. Matthew may or may not have exaggerated certain aspects about the woman to his mates.
For example, she wasn’t the worst human being he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing. At least, not anymore.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Matthew said. “I’ve mapped out our whole weekend, so I’m afraid we haven’t the time.”
“So now we don’t get to see her or her festival?” Finn asked.
“Precisely,” Matthew returned.
Before, he’d been relieved that his friends weren’t going to be seeing his failure-of-a-festival. Now, he was just glad they wouldn’t be there either for Winnie’s faire . He’d never be able to live it down if her event actually turned out better than his—which was a fear he was praying wouldn’t be realized.
“What if I promise you can drive the Tesla before we leave?” Cedric asked, attempting to sweeten the deal. “ Then can we meet her?”
“Not a chance,” Matthew said.
He led the way forward to where the ever-vigilant Mr. Fernsby waited for them by the front door of Foxwood.
Despite their pressing to meet Winnie, Matthew had a good feeling about this weekend. Time with his friends he hadn’t seen in months, a charity run to participate in, a break from the festival—and most importantly, time away from Winnie.
It was going to be great.
So long as he kept his mates away from the consultant, that is.
Matthew leaned back against the cushion in the booth of the White Hart, listening to the chatter of the pub around him and his mates. The charity run had come and gone that morning, the weekend having flown by, and now the four of them were enjoying their final night together, banter and laughter abounding.
“I didn’t lose,” Matthew defended. “There were three others behind me.”
“Mate, they were in their eighties,” Finn said, shaking his head. “That means you lose by default.”
Matthew shook his head, even though he agreed with him. He’d raced abysmally that morning. But what else was to be expected when he hadn’t trained a lick in the last couple of weeks?
Fortunately, he didn’t care about winning or losing in that moment. What he did care about was eating. White Hart overflowed that night with customers—as was the norm for the pub on a Saturday evening, being one of the best in Grassington—and the waiter had yet to come to their table. While Matthew tried to remain patient, his growling stomach had other plans .
With his friends still in conversation about the charity run, Matthew glanced around for any sign of a worker, hoping to ask for a time estimate so he could prepare himself for the wait.
He looked past the pub’s old stone walls, wooden support beams, and amateur paintings of Yorkshire landscapes before spotting a waiter at the bar, chatting with a few other customers. Matthew was about to raise his hand to get his attention, but he paused when he caught sight of the woman the waiter stood beside.
Her back was toward Matthew, her dark hair in a top bun, and a silk shirt was draped gracefully across her slender shoulders.
His heart stuttered. Winnie. He hadn’t seen her in three days—thanks to his very calculated actions—though in some ways, it felt like weeks had passed by.
She sat alone, her phone resting on the bar as she tapped out something on the screen. He tried to decipher if she was working still, but his view of her was soon blocked by the waiter finally reaching their table.
“Evenin’, lads,” he greeted.
He took their orders for drinks, dropped off the menus, then wandered away to his next table.
Matthew peered down at the menu, pretending to be paying attention to the food listed on the page, but he was much more invested now in seeing what Winnie was doing.
She took a sip out of her bottle of J2O—orange and passionfruit, his favorite—then focused again on her phone.
Had she eaten already? Or was she waiting for her order to be taken, too?
“Who’s the bird you’re starin’ at, Matt?” Cedric asked, his voice cutting into Matthew’s focus on Winnie.
Matthew’s eyes darted toward his friend. “What? Oh, no one.”
He stared harder at his menu. That was his first mistake. His second was to think that his friends would let his obvious denial slide .
“Is that the consultant?” Finn asked next. “She looks like a New Yorker.”
“It has to be,” Graham agreed. “Why else would Matthew be cowerin’ behind his menu like that?”
Matthew frowned. “Maybe it’s because I want to order my steak.”
“Would you like it in the shape of the consultant, perhaps?” Finn asked.
The men laughed, and Matthew fought the urge to quiet them. He didn’t want to draw her attention toward their table. Then he’d have to invite her over. That would be the nice thing to do, especially because she was eating alone. But he’d hate to imagine the sort of mischief his friends would create. He’d managed to keep them separated the entire day. He wasn’t about to stop now.
“You didn’t tell us she was a looker,” Finn said next as Winnie looked to the side, her profile becoming visible.
Graham and Cedric hummed in agreement. Matthew would have, too, but then, admitting that Winnie was attractive aloud to his mates would be the final nail in his coffin.
“She’s eatin’ alone, so she is,” Finn said next. Then he faced Matthew and tossed his head toward her. “Why don’t you invite her to sit with us?”
Matthew scoffed. “As if I’d ever agree to that. You guys’d take the mickey right out of me.”
All three of them feigned looks of innocence. “As if we’d do that to you,” Cedric said. “She does look lonely.”
“Aye, go on, then,” Finn pressed.
“She’s working,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “I know better than to interrupt her.”
“Oh, aye?” Finn said. “Are you afraid of the wee bird?”
Again, the men laughed.
Matthew ignored them. “So what’re you all ordering? I highly recommend the gammon.”
“No matter,” Finn said. “I’ll go get her if you won’t. ”
“Finn,” Matthew began in warning.
But Finn ignored him. He headed straight for Winnie as Matthew watched in frustration, glued to his chair like the worthless coward that he was.