Sarah Randall - Forever His Darling

The rest of the eclectic pub was made up of quiet tables with couples and families enjoying what looked like good home cooked food if the smells were anything to go by. There was a lovely atmosphere and every so often there would be a louder cheer and laughter from either the games room or from the chap’s playing dominos.

Bob delivered their drinks and made a quick getaway. “Cheers.” Matt held up his pint glass to her and took a long gulp.

“Cheers.” She sipped on the frothy beverage. Hmm, okay, an acquired taste but no way in hell was she going to say anything other than “Yum” as she placed her glass on the table and crossed her legs.

“Okay, so if I’m going to be staying with you, I think it’s only fair you tell me more about yourself. It’s clear that you have formed an opinion about me so it’s only fair I get to see whether my opinion of you is correct.”

He mimicked her position. “And what opinion is that? Not that I am remotely bothered, you understand, but please do enlighten me.”

“I’m not ready to disclose it yet,” she challenged. “I’ll reserve my final judgment until the end of this conversation.” She took another sip of the disgusting drink.

“Ha,” he chuckled, “what is this, Mr and Mrs?”

“What? Not that I’m saying you would but you could just Google me to find out everything about the nitty gritty of my life. I’m sure even my bra size is on Wikipedia if anyone was interested.” She wasn’t joking.

His intense stare made her feel nervous, but not in an entirely bad way.

“Okay, let me get you started. Why are you so grumpy?”

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “Pass.”

“You can’t pass,” she said, shaking her head and leaning forward.

“I can do anything I want Miss Harper.”

Okay, the Grumpy Farmer was back, she thought as she rolled her eyes and slumped back in her chair dramatically.

He sighed. “Okay. Fine.” He conceded in defeat, “You win, but I’m not talking about that, and you first.” He smirked, pointing his finger at her. “Favourite film?”

“When Harry Met Sally. You?”

“The Italian Job. The original,” he added, raising his finger. “I loved vintage mini’s as a kid. Favourite… er, book?”

“Easy, Gone with the Wind, hands down best book ever. You gotta love Scarlett’s independent nature and her attitude to life, not to mention the fabulous fashions of the mid eighteen hundreds. Not that I envy the tight corsets, although some of my shoes are likely just as painful. You?”

“Oh erm, I’m not sure, probably just some Dan Brown thriller or something.” He shook his head and picked up a beer mat, twirling it in his hands.

“Ah ah, no way Mr Darling. Come on, just tell me. If you don’t then I’ll just think the worst.”

“Okay, fine, it’s The Princess Bride. Okay.” He pulled at the corners of the mat.

Ana grinned and doing her best Vizzini impression lisped, “Inconceivable!”

“Yeah, Yeah laugh it up.” He gently tossed the beer mat at her and she caught it on instinct. “Impressive.”

“You’re a closet romantic aren’t you?! I love that book too. So did you read the kissing parts too?!”

“No,” he refuted too quickly, “it’s got really good action sequences in it and Mrs H used to read it to me when I was a kid, and then Pip demanded I read it to her when she was younger. She insisted on me doing all the accents. You know…” He cleared his throat and in a hilariously bad Spanish accent quoted, “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” A wry smile curved from the corner of his mouth as reached to pick up his glass and drank his beer.

Ana couldn’t help but laugh as his awful Spanish accent. “Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself. Don’t worry Farm Boy , your secret’s safe with me.”

He rolled his eyes at her at her teasing. “Favourite ice-cream flavour?” he asked as a distraction.

“Ben and Jerry’s Peanut Butter every time. Yours?”

He pursed his lips and dropped his brows. “You know, I really don’t think I have a favourite, probably just boring vanilla.”

“Even vanilla can be exciting… given the right topping,” she said, winking at him and then laughing at his bemused and slightly shocked expression. Was that a blush in his cheeks?

And so it continued…When he wasn’t being grumpy he was actually good company, but she couldn’t fail to notice the inquisitive looks they attracted from the locals. Matt was clearly known to all and attracted a female following of varying ages, and some of the looks she received were positively venomous. The message was clear: “he’s our hottie, so back off London chick.” She would’ve found it quite funny if she wasn’t in fear that the one with the blonde quaffed hairstyle, red talon nails, and matching lipstick might actually cause her some physical harm. She was a viper dressed perfectly in vintage Chanel. She had to give the snake kudos for that.

She averted her eyes from the unfriendly female stares and bent down to stroke George’s ears as he curled up in front of their table, basking in the heat from the fire. As she brought her head back up to the table, a young barmaid approached their table tentatively, finally gathering courage to come over and ask for her autograph. Anastacia didn’t fail to notice her lick her lips, flutter her eyes, and stick out her small chest. Ana was a model. She noticed such actions. She assumed it was for Matt’s benefit but he seemed completely disinterested and she actually felt sorry for the young woman. Slightly.

She caught Matt’s unease and displeasure as she signed the girl’s notebook and posed for a selfie with her, Matt having refused to take the picture.

“Doesn’t that…” he paused as if looking for the right word or trying not to swear, “bother you?”

“What, your rudeness, or her polite request for a photo?” she teased whilst sitting back in her chair. At his cool stare she continued. “It’s just part of the job. You probably have bits of yours that you hate but tolerate.” She took another sip of her drink before adding, “Like putting up with annoying models who land at your door with no coat and wearing fabulously inappropriate shoes.” She winked and shrugged her shoulders. “This is mine.”

His thoughts were clearly elsewhere as he stared into the crackling fireplace and ignored her. Stubborn man..

He stood abruptly. “Another one?” he asked, and she couldn’t help quoting back at him in the hope she could raise a smile.

“As you wish.” Maybe he had the book in the library back at the house aanndd… Maybe taking that sleeping pill and drinking so much alcohol wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had…

***

Matt had to hide his smile from her. Stubborn redheaded woman, he thought. It was obvious that she hated the pint of bitter but was clearly not going to let on. She may be a top model but she was no top actress. He couldn’t get his head around what her day to day life must be like: constant interruptions and silly requests for a signed piece of paper and a photograph. No privacy. Why the hell would that appeal to anyone?

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. George, the traitor, was curled up enjoying Ana’s attentions yet again. He lifted his head briefly to gaze lovingly at her. Good grief, he thought, he had it bad. As if hearing his thoughts, George turned his head to him and gave him a look which Matt loosely interpreted as “What the hell are you waiting for? Get on with it mate.”

He quickly averted his gaze back to the bar and dropped his head in shame. Yep, definitely jealous of his dog.

As he waited for Bob to finish serving him he reflected on his surprise at the fact that he was actually enjoying himself. He’d popped into the pub several times since Emily’s departure but never really just sat back and chilled, enjoying someone else’s company. How strange that a woman, apparently known all over the world but not to him and who represented almost everything that he despised, would be the one person he could actually talk to… that he actually wanted to open up to. Yet something still held him back. She was a stranger after all, even if his sister and Mrs Henderson were treating her like a long lost Darling, home for Christmas.