Sophie couldn't seem to sit still.
She'd finally gone inside after finishing her crisps and managed to unpack most – no, not all – of her luggage. She'd shoved the suitcases under the beds and had taken a shower to wash away the grime of almost a day's travel, happily lining up her toiletries and hanging her clothes up in an effort to make the farmhouse feel like home, rather than like an overnight guest.
Auntie Barbara had been clear that this wasn't a visit for only a week or two – Sophie was committed to staying in Hay for at least six months, if not a full year. As all her graduate classes were over, she was under no obligation to stay in Indiana unless she wanted to teach. She was hoping the break from America altogether might be the kick she needed to keep working on, and finally finish, her dissertation.
The hardest part had been quitting her job, but at least she would be earning an income here (though not much, from the sounds of it), and room and board was essentially taken care of. If she could turn a better profit at the bookstore, she might be able to afford more than bread and water, she thought wryly.
She'd taken a cursory glance at the bookshelves lining the upstairs during her explorations, finally selecting a well loved copy of Pride and Prejudice, as well as an Elizabeth Gaskell novel for reading when she finally was able to settle down and sit for more than a minute or two.
She'd opened every cabinet in the kitchen, getting a sense of what food was in the house, and had even managed to scrape together a dinner of various assorted nibbles, though she decided to forgo the wine in order to have a good night's sleep and a clear head tomorrow. She made a mental note to ask Matthew were the nearest super center was located so she could stock up on groceries.
She flicked the family room television on a time or two, just making sure the BBC would be there when she needed it – she was dying to see the new Doctor Who series, since they were still on series three in America – and had made sure she remembered where light switches were for when it got dark. That was one of her most vivid memories of being here as a child – how dark it became when the sun went down on Fairfields. Sophie could remember looking out an upstairs window and not seeing a single light anywhere – nothing for miles but darkness and stars, and the sounds of sheep lowing in the fields without being able to see them.
Sophie walked the downstairs hallway like a catwalk twice before finally abandoning any hope of sitting down quietly, so she went back outside in the garden with her Gaskell novel, flopping down squarely on the grass and noticing the cooler air of the shadows in contrast to the warm sun of earlier in the day.
After a few minutes of valiantly trying to quiet her mind and relax, she finally noticed the absolute stillness around her and smiled softly.
A stillness that was disturbed about a minute later by a crashing noise coming from across the lane.
Swiveling her head, she saw a shadow moving across the drive of Windy Willows, though she couldn't really see who it was or what they were doing.
She recalled that Auntie Barbara had told her a farmer lived across the lane, tending to the lands around both their houses essentially by himself with little or no help. She had pictured a stooped over, weathered man with a lined face, scuffed shoes and an anorak walking along with a sheepdog at his side, occasionally firing up the John Deere for a jaunt in the fields.
The man who stepped out into the light was not what she had in mind.
First, he was tall. Very tall, with broad shoulders and slim hips encased in a shapeless pullover and dusty jeans. As he leaned over to move a heavy sack, she could see the pull of his muscles in his back, the way in which he flipped it onto his shoulder with apparent ease.
His hair was black and quite long, curling around his collar and falling across his forehead as he moved back and forth. He seemed to be sporting a five o'clock shadow that was now in its third day, and his eyes appeared dark from this distance. He had an air of seriousness about him, and appeared full concentrated on his task at hand, taking no notice of her.
He wasn't matinee idol handsome, and he really wasn't cute, but there was something arresting in his appearance that made Sophie blush a bit as she imagined him as a broody hero in a Bronte novel, stomping across the moors in search of his lady love.
No, this definitely wasn't who she pictured tending the fields of Wales fifty yards from her door.
Embarrassed by her own prejudice at what a farmer might look like, as well as embarrassed at the way she was staring as though she'd never seen a man before, she turned away and went back to her study of the fields, her Gaskell novel forgotten beside her.
The last thing she needed was to get involved with another alpha male; of that she was certain.
And her neighbor definitely had alpha male written all over him, she thought as she snuck another sly glance at his jeans-clad thighs.
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