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Matthew hid another smile with a shake of his head, and Winnie beamed as Minnie clanged again in protest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The drive to Malham was short and beautiful, the thick trees that lined Foxwood’s border eventually shifting from dense wood to incredible open fields of lilting, green grass, gray stone walls, and small homes that dotted the landscape.
They traveled down a supposedly two-car road that was barely big enough for even Matthew’s small car to fit, then finally arrived at their first destination. He pulled into the little lot, then turned the Mini Cooper off.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to turn it back on?” Winnie asked.
“You keep carrying on that way, and she’s going to throw a fit,” Matthew warned.
Winnie only laughed. She reached forward then, trying to open the door, but nothing happened.
“Handle doesn’t work, remember?” Matthew said.
He sent her a smile, then exited the car himself. Soon, he arrived at her side and opened the door for her.
Another memory flashed through her mind of high school and boys opening doors for her on dates, but she suppressed the thought. They were on a business trip, that was all. Despite the fact that he’d prohibited them from speaking about business at all…
She expressed her gratitude, then made to step out of the vehicle, only to freeze with her boot hovering in the air just above the muddiest ground she’d ever seen.
“Hence why I suggested the wellies,” Matthew said, waiting for her to exit the car.
With what little pride she had left, Winnie pushed aside her reservations and placed both boots on the ground, pushing herself out of the low vehicle.
The heels stuck directly into the mud like needles into a pincushion, but she faced him with an easy smile. “Ready?”
He shook his head. “You’re not going to make it far in those.”
“Look, I’ve walked miles in these shoes in New York. I can handle however long it’ll take to get to Malham Cove.”
“I’m sure you could. But the terrain is a touch different than New York City’s streets.” He looked to the boots with a shake of his head. “You’ll aerate half of Yorkshire with those on. Just put on the ruddy wellies.”
Winnie wrestled with herself. She was supposed to be taking his advice. But…those wellies. They were hideous. She took a step forward, her heels making it far more difficult to move than she’d thought.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes. “Fine. I’ll wear them.”
“Finally,” Matthew muttered.
He made for the trunk and pulled out the gaudy creatures, handing them to her with far-too-chipper a smile.
She mumbled another thanks, sat back down in the car, and one by one, exchanged her sleek, black, leather, high-heeled boots for the rubber, flower-covered monstrosities.
Matthew left to pay for parking, and by the time he returned, she was standing in the mud with Char’s boots donned.
Matthew’s amused smile didn’t help. “Now those look good on you.”
She grimaced. “I should not be seen in public like this.”
“I don’t know,” Matthew said, placing the parking stub on the inside of the dashboard before locking up his car. “I think they fit your personality perfectly.”
She glared at his smile. “Where do you even buy stuff that looks like this?”
“I think Char purchased them from a charity shop,” Matthew responded.
“That checks out,” she muttered.
“You ought to be grateful,” he continued. “You’ll be able to make it to the top of the cove. And, bonus—now I won’t lose you in the crowds.”
