Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
Winnie paused in the doorway of Foxwood, looking down at Matthew, who leaned against his horrible beater-of-a-car that was pulled in front of the estate. It was Monday, two minutes until seven o’clock in the morning, and Winnie had just appeared before Matthew for their…their what, exactly? Matthew had called it a holiday. She thought it was better to call it a business trip.
That was the safest option.
Whatever it was, she wasn’t sure she was ready for it, especially when she caught sight of Matthew in his tall boots, thick blue raincoat, and jeans. She thought he looked rather perfect.
But apparently, he took issue with how she looked.
“What do you mean?” she asked, peering down at her heels, skirt, and shirt.
She had to look way better than she had in her sweats Saturday evening, despite the fact that she hadn’t slept last night due to nightmares. She’d dreamt that she’d shared her failures with her family during their Sunday chat, despite the fact that she hadn’t attended their virtual call the day before.
She hadn’t been able to stomach it .
Matthew motioned to her person, drawing her attention to the present. “I said to wear warm clothing and shoes to walk in.”
She frowned, moving toward him and his car, her small carry-on bouncing against her leg. “I’m warm enough with the raincoat, and I can walk in these shoes. See?”
She stepped closer to him, but he shook his head, pushing away from the car and motioning to her heels again. “Those will not work for what we’re doing today. First off, you absolutely need to wear trousers, and don’t you have any wellies?”
“Wellies?” she asked, pulling up her lip. “I don’t even know what those are.”
“Wellies,” he repeated, as if that would help her. “Wellingtons. Rain boots?”
Oh. She looked over her shoulder at the closed door of the estate. “I have some boots?—”
“Not high-heeled,” he said with a knowing lift of his brow.
She shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to cancel, then, ’cause I don’t have anything else.”
“You don’t even have any trousers?”
“Of course I do. They just…” She hesitated. “They don’t speak ‘professional,’ do they?”
“Where we’re going, you don’t need to look professional.” He reached up, taking her suitcase from her. “At least for today’s activities.”
Their fingers brushed against each other, and their eyes met, but Winnie looked swiftly away, ignoring the way her heart leapt. This was a business trip, after all. A business trip with a business associate. Nothing more.
Matthew placed her small suitcase in the trunk of his car, then closed the door with a loud creak. “We’re going for function over fashion,” he continued, eying her heels. “What shoe size are you?”
She eyed him. “Eight.”
“US eight,” he mumbled, pulling out his phone and typing onto the screen. “All right, you’re a UK seven.” He swiped up, then typed out more. “I might have a solution for you. Just change into something that’s more practical, and I’ll meet you back here in five.”
He disappeared inside Foxwood without another word, and Winnie stared after him in surprise. If she’d had a leg to stand on, she would’ve protested. She did everything in a skirt and heels, and she’d never had any problem with it up to this point.
But Matthew was doing her a favor by taking her around. Heck, he was the only reason she was still in England at this point. So the least she could do was take his advice when it came to what she ought to wear.
In less than five minutes, Winnie had changed into her jeans—she’d forgotten how much warmer they were than skirts—pulled on a cozy sweater beneath her raincoat, smoothed back her hair in its bun, and returned outside to meet with Matthew again. She had slipped on her high-heeled boots, despite his protests, and smiled when she saw him once again waiting for her against his car.
“See?” she began. “These will do…just…fine…”
Her words faded as she noticed what was in Matthew’s hands. Before her were the loudest, gaudiest, most rubber boots she’d ever seen in her life.
“What are those?” she asked.
“Wellies,” he said, raising them higher, as if she couldn’t see the hot pink of the boots well enough already.
Vivid orange and yellow flowers speckled in a continuous pattern across the pink footwear, and Winnie winced as if the brightness of it was blinding her.
“Your old schoolboy boots, I assume?” she asked.
He smirked at her joke. “Here.” He shoved them toward her as she reached the car. “They’re Char’s. She told me these should fit you just fine.”
Winnie still stared, unwilling—unable—to accept them.
He wiggled them at her again. “Come on, they’ll keep you warm and dry all day long.”
With the skies fully overcast that morning, Winnie didn’t mind the sound of keeping dry. But she’d given up so much of her pride over the last forty-eight hours, she had to keep at least a sprinkling of it.
“Um, thank her for me, will you?” Winnie asked. “But I think I’ll take my chances in these.”
He stared down at the high-heeled boots now covering her feet. “You’ll sink into the mud and grass faster than you can say ‘ridiculous,’” he stated.
“They’ll be fine.”
He shrugged. “Mark my words. You’ll want the wellies before long.”
He obviously didn’t know the extent of Winnie’s pride.
Opening the trunk of his Mini Cooper again, he tossed the boots inside, and only then did Winnie register what he was doing.
“Wait, why are we taking your car when we have my much nicer rental?” She motioned to the glistening green of the Aston Martin.
It’s not that she really wanted to take the sports car, but it seemed much safer than his beater.
“Because I’m the one leading the tour,” he responded. “If I was on your insurance for the emerald steed, perhaps I’d consider taking it, but alas.”
He closed the trunk—or boot, she supposed—and went around to her side again.
“ I could just drive, then,” she said, eying the rusted red paint and the crack of his side, back window. “You can give me directions, or I could follow the GPS.”
Matthew raised his brow in disbelief. “And have you swerve off the road again into a pile of mud? I don’t think so.” He turned back to the car he nearly towered over and patted the hood with affection. “No, we’ll be taking Minnie here.”
Winnie looked at the car back and forth. “Are you sure it can still drive? ”
He hardly looked pleased with the comment, then his previous words finally sunk in.
“Wait,” she began, “did you say Minnie, M-I-N-N-I-E, or mini, as in, M-I-N-I?”
He stared. “Minnie, as in, her name, Minnie. I-E.”
Winnie had never heard of anything so adorable. She’d known of others naming their cars, but a man naming his Minnie ? She could hardly stand it.
“You think that’s funny?” he asked.
“Not at all. A car like this certainly deserves the name.”
“She does,” he defended. “She’s been in the family almost as long as Char has.”
“And likely your great-grandparents, too.”
“All right,” Matthew said, shaking his head and opening the door. “You either get in and stop making fun of her or you can take the tour of Yorkshire by yourself.”
She smiled to herself. It felt good to tease someone, to feel some semblance of normalcy after the weekend she’d had.
“Come on, then,” he said, waving her forward. “Let’s not wait for the sun to shine.”
Winnie paused. She hadn’t realized he was on the passenger side until that moment. It had been a long time since someone had opened a car door for her. Her high school date to the prom, maybe? She usually walked to her dates in New York, and…
The thought made her pause. Date? This was no date.
“I can get it myself, you know,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure you can,” he responded. “But Minnie’s very particular about who touches her.”
Winnie gave him a look. “Seriously?”
“No. But her door handle is hanging on by a thread, and it doesn’t work unless it’s handled with finesse, so I’m going to have to do this each time.”
Winnie smiled, amused. “What is it with you guys and doors? ”
With a sigh, she relented, slipping in and easing herself into the low seat with a mumbled, “Thanks.”
Matthew closed the door behind her and walked around the car as she took a look around her. It was clean, she’d give him that, even if it was the smallest car she’d ever seen.
The door handle from the inside was rusted, as was the crank-down window lever. Now his gesture of rolling down the window on her first day made sense.
She adjusted her legs in the small space she was allotted just as Matthew slid into the driver’s side.
“Ready?” he asked, buckling before hooking his phone onto the dashboard stand.
“If you’re meaning to ask me if I’m ready to ride around this car like I’m Fred Flintstone because I’m so close to the ground, then sure. I’m absolutely ready.”
He shook his head again, but the twinkle in his eyes was undeniable.
Winnie buckled up, then Matthew made to start the car, but it merely sputtered in response.
He tried again, and again, but there was no start. “Come on, Minnie,” he muttered. “Not again.”
Winnie watched in silence for a minute. This did not bode well for the rest of their trip. “Maybe you should call her Grannie instead,” she said.
“Hush. She just takes a bit of warming up, that’s all.” He stroked his fingers down the steering wheel. “Come on, girl. We’ve got a busy two days ahead of us.”
“Do you think maybe?—”
“I’ll have no more cheek from you, Miss Knox,” Matthew said, turning to look at her with a stern look.
She clamped her mouth shut at his feigned scolding as a smile begged to be let out on her lips.
Matthew tried once again to start the car, and this time, it roared to life. Well, perhaps roared was the wrong word. Minnie coughed and sputtered more to life than roared .
“There, you see?” he asked with a triumphant look in Winnie’s direction.
“Oh, yes. Super reliable, this one,” she said.
He didn’t respond, merely turned the radio on and put the car into gear before easing across the drive.
With no stalling car or broken handle to focus on, Winnie’s mind finally settled on the man beside her. For the first time in their professional relationship, they were alone. Like, alone, alone. Before, there was always the chance of someone happening upon them—someone from the festival staff or household staff, or one of Matthew’s family members.
But now, in the car, they were officially by themselves, and for some reason, the thought made her uncomfortable. There was no out now. No escape. No chance of running away if things got awkward or uncomfortable. This was it. An entire overnight excursion with a man whom she could barely handle—a man who could barely handle her.
A man by whom she was sitting far too closely.
She had to hold both hands on her lap, tucking in her elbows to avoid touching him, especially with him adjusting the gear shift so often. One swift turn, and she was sure she’d lean right into him and his distracting, muscular arm.
“Comfortable?” Matthew asked, shifting the gears again as they made it off the gravel and headed along the windy road out of the estate.
“I mean, I’d be more comfortable in the Aston Martin…”
He shook his head. “Trust me. One day with Minnie, and you’ll rue the day you have to get back inside that sports car.”
“I think the fumes from old Minnie here have gotten to your head,” she returned.
To her surprise, he cracked a smile. The car clanked loudly as he shifted gears again. “She needs a new transmission. Don’t judge her for it.”
Winnie glanced to his hand that rested on the gear stick so near her leg. The tendons across the back of his hand shifted as he controlled the speed at which they traveled, his fingers, long and capable, curving around the top of the handle.
What was it about a man driving a manual car that was so attractive? Even in Minnie here, she had to admit Matthew looked good.
They drove in silence, “Golden Years” by David Bowie playing on the crackling stereo before a loud buzzing occurred beneath Winnie. She paused, unsure of what the vibration was until she remembered that she’d slipped her phone into her back pocket. She so rarely wore jeans, she wasn’t accustomed to the sound or feel of it.
She leaned toward the door and pulled out her phone, careful to avoid any touch to Matthew as she looked at the screen.
Dad’s name lit brightly across the front of it.
Instantly, her stomach churned. She’d been doing so well focusing on the present, laughing and enjoying her time with Matthew, and now, she was back to where she’d started.
Dad had called her for their Sunday chat yesterday, but Winnie just hadn’t been able to get herself to answer it, just like right now. She couldn’t deal with the disappointment in his voice, the scolding she would inevitably receive like she was a child.
She had to focus on the task at hand, on really improving the festival and no longer wasting Mr. Wintour’s money. If she spoke with Dad, her thoughts would muddle, her insides would knot, and any instinct she might still possess would most assuredly vanish.
And more than anything? She just didn’t want to talk to him. Period.
Without a word, she pressed the side button of her phone to stop the buzzing, then slipped it back into her pocket.
“Everything okay?” Matthew asked beside her.
“Huh?” She looked to him, once again taken aback at their proximity. “Oh, yeah. It was just my dad, but I can call him back.”
Matthew paused. “Isn’t it nearing midnight there?”
“I think so. ”
He didn’t respond for a minute. “You can answer it now if you need to.”
But Winnie shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll talk to him later.”
He nodded, though she could almost feel his desire to ask her why she’d silenced her own dad’s call. No doubt Matthew had never done that to his dad before.
“So where are we headed first?” she asked, anxious to put his call behind her.
“Malham,” Matthew replied. “We can grab a bite to eat there for breakfast, then head up the cove for a nice, leisurely walk.”
Winnie nodded. She’d never heard of Malham before, but it sounded nice enough. “And how is this going to help us with the festival?” she asked.
“It’s not.”
She paused, unable to help herself from looking at him again. His profile was lined in the soft, gray light of the morning, enhancing the angle of his square jaw. “What? Then why are we even going there?”
He shifted again as they pulled out of the drive, officially on the road. Minnie ground her gears in protest. “Because I think it’ll help you get out of your head.”
She pulled a face. “I’m not in my head.”
He scoffed, and their eyes met for a brief moment. “The very fact that you are already asking how to improve the festival and we haven’t even been with each other for a quarter of an hour proves to me that you are most definitely in your head.”
Winnie had been called out. Not in a rude way, by any means, but she folded her arms and stared straight ahead all the same. “Well, forgive me for trying to help your beloved festival.”
A moment passed by in silence. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I should have spoken with more care.”
Winnie blinked, stunned. He’d apologized. Like, really apologized. “Oh, it’s okay,” she mumbled, unsure of how to respond. “I wasn’t really offended.”
“That’s good because I…” He paused, beginning again. “I want this trip to be a sort of recharge for you. I really believe that if you immerse yourself in England, Yorkshire specifically, and the way we live here, you’ll be able to remove the pressure more easily from off your shoulders.”
Winnie chewed the inside of her lip. He wanted to take the pressure off? He wanted her to relax ? Honestly, his words sounded like a dream. An unachievable, unattainable dream.
“If you’re all right with it,” he continued, “I’d like it if we kept the conversation about the festival to a minimum. Only chat about it when we absolutely have to.”
She paused, biting her cheek in hesitation. “But how will we get anything done? That’s a whole two days wasted.”
“I’ve already spoken to my dad and told him what we’re doing,” he assured her. “There’s nothing you need to do for the time being except enjoy the experiences you’ll have.”
Winnie hesitated. “I don’t know if I’m capable of fully turning off my work brain.”
“That’s all right. Just do the best you can.”
Winnie drew a deep breath. She wasn’t sure about this, really. But then, who was she to protest? She’d already failed at her attempt to revive the festival. Maybe Matthew’s idea would be just the thing to help them both get what they wanted.
Either way, she was willing to give it all a shot.
The car clunked as Matthew shifted gears again, and the tension eased from her shoulders.
“So how far is this Malham place?” she asked.
“About a quarter of an hour, give or take. Why?”
“I was just contemplating whether or not Minnie was going to last that long.”
Matthew hid another smile with a shake of his head, and Winnie beamed as Minnie clanged again in protest.