Chapter 5

Luca pulled into the gravel driveway, the car crunching its way towards the farmhouse where he pulled up and switched off the engine. He glanced at the time on the dashboard. Over half an hour late. He grimaced, remembering the farmer’s terse instruction to be on time. The underarms of his shirt, beneath his suit jacket, were sweat soaked, despite the icy blast from the air con, and he swore under his breath.

Getting out of his car, he pressed his key fob and the door locked. No fading battery this time. The driver’s side was covered with mud, and god alone knew what else, from being drenched by the wheels of a tractor when he’d got lost the second, or maybe third time, along one of the many narrow, winding roads that weren’t much more than rutted tracks.

Why the hell had he jumped to the summons for a meeting? He liked to do his research before he met prospective suppliers, but Ladywell Farm had drawn a blank online, leaving him feeling unprepared for the meeting. But prepared or not, he was here. Making his way towards the old, sprawling farmhouse, his apologies at the ready, a tall, muscular figure emerged from around the corner of the house, wiping his hands on a ragged cloth.

Luca stopped dead. No. No way. The urge to jump back in the car and drive off as quickly as he could gripped him. The heat of embarrassment pulsed in his cheeks. Rhonda’s grumpy farmer, and the rude, smug bastard of the previous night, the man who’d made him feel so bloody stupid, had, like him, stopped in his tracks.

Too late to escape, all he could do now was make sure the meeting was as brief and perfunctory as possible. Luca opened his mouth to introduce himself, but the farmer got in first.

“I’m Adrian Hardy, owner of Ladywell Farm. Nice of you to show up. At last.” Adrian’s deep voice was cool and edged with irritation.

Luca bristled, biting down on his tongue. “I apologise for being late, Mr. Hardy. My satnav lost its signal.” He proffered his hand, and attempted an apologetic smile, but his lips failed to comply. Polite and professional, make this short… and don’t mention last night…

Adrian tucked the cloth into the waistband of his jeans and enveloped Luca’s hand in his. The squeeze was firm but not crushing, his rough, calloused hand warm.

“Satnavs don’t work well the closer you get to the moor. You want to find somewhere around here, you have to go old school and use a map. Not that some of the smaller farms and hamlets even feature.” Adrian’s gaze flipped to Luca’s car, before he once again met his eye. “Didn’t expect you to be the one I’d be meeting. I didn’t recognise your voice on the message.”

“Likewise.” Luca smiled, but it felt hard and tight. He was here for the hotel, not to indulge in petty arguments or lingering resentment.

“About last night,” Adrian began, scratching the back of his neck. “I might have over reacted.”

Might?It wasn’t much of an apology, but it would have to do. Luca bobbed his head in acknowledgement.

“Perhaps you could show me around, and I can tell you what we’re looking to source? Although my executive chef tells me she’s already had a preliminary discussion with you.”

Adrian snorted. “If you mean she told me to jump, and how high, then yes we did have a preliminary discussion as you put it.”

“She’s direct. I regret if that offended you.” The words felt like he was squeezing blood from a stone.

“I appreciate directness and straight talking. What I don’t appreciate is being given orders.”

Luca bit down on his tongue. I’m here for the good of the hotel…

Adrian raked him with his eyes, his lips twitching.

“You do realise this is a working farm, don’t you? It’s wet and muddy, and there’s a lot of shit mixed in with it. Bespoke tailoring’s not exactly recommended wear. Nor are shiny Oxfords.” Adrian nodded to Luca’s shoes.

Luca stared down at himself. Wrong footed, literally. The small smile that tugged at Adrian’s lips began to look more and more like a smirk. Luca felt the cringe rise up in him, knowing the man was right. Why hadn’t he thought? Like his car, he’d be covered in god alone knew what in seconds.

“Come up to the house. I’ve got some spare wellingtons you can use. They’ll be too big, but you’ll thank me for them.” Adrian walked off, without waiting for an answer, forcing Luca to follow him.

In a large utility room, Adrian pulled a pair of battered wellingtons off a shelf.

“Thank you.” Luca pushed out the words as he exchanged his polished shoes for the scuffed, mud encrusted boots. He leant down and shoved his trousers into the wellingtons, the fine wool rucking up and creasing, all the time feeling Adrian’s mocking eyes boring into him. The suit would go straight to housekeeping for dry cleaning, ridding it of any signs of Adrian Hardy and his bloody farm.

“Hello boy, how are you feeling?”

Luca looked up. An old collie staggered into the utility room and flopped down at Adrian’s feet, gazing up at him through adoring eyes. As he stood and adjusted his cuffs, Luca knew he was completely forgotten as Adrian spoke softly to the dog and gently stroked his fur.

“I’ve got a special treat for you after dinner. You’ll like that, won’t you?” The dog answered with a weak wag of his tail before looking from Adrian to Luca, and back again, as though asking for an introduction. Adrian’s hand, pushing through the fur, stilled, before he uncurled himself to his full height. Two red patches coloured his lightly tanned face.

“This is Spud. He was my brother’s dog. Let’s begin, because I haven’t got all day.”

They said nothing as Adrian led the way through the farmyard and past a large stone barn. Luca chanced a glance at him. Adrian’s lips were pressed into a tight line, and a frown puckered his brow. It was not the look of a man ready to talk business, but one who was monumentally pissed off.

Anger burst in Luca’s gut. He could get past Adrian’s sullen attitude, his rudeness, and last night’s bad tempered encounter. He could let all that go, but what he couldn’t and wouldn’t was this huge waste of time. He had work to do, just as Adrian had, so perhaps it was time to call a halt, thank him for the time he clearly didn’t want to give, and leave him to finish his day as he needed to finish his.

“Oh.” Luca stopped in his tracks as they wound around another barn. A few steps on, Adrian turned and looked at him.

Polytunnels. Row after row of them. Luca had seen the tunnels in southern Spain, but on an industrial scale, the produce grown under their domes shipped out to feed much of Europe.

“I take it you’ve seen polytunnels before?” Adrian quirked a brow.

“Of course I have. But I suppose I wasn’t expecting to see so many of them?—”

“On a small upland farm? The weather’s too unpredictable to not use them. First year I was back, I lost my entire crop of salad leaves and a lot more besides. Heatwave. It was like the bloody Sahara. Then the temperature plummeted and we got hit by flash floods. I managed to keep the farm going — just — but it was the death knell for some of my neighbours. I grow good, organic food, but if I’m going to grow it consistently and make a living, Mother Nature, who can be a capricious mare, needs to be harnessed.”

Adrian glared at him, as though challenging Luca to argue. But the man was right and polytunnelling, which was really nothing more than green housing, was a way of ensuring an unbroken supply. Which was the reason he’d made the journey to the back of beyond and was now wearing a pair of too big wellingtons lent to him by the touchy, ill-tempered farmer.

Luca followed him into one of the tunnels, the heat instantly dampening his skin. Neat rows of the region’s rich, red earth ran the length of the tunnel, on top of which nestled the variegated greens, deep reds and purple leaves of salad crop. Rocket, lambs lettuce, lollo rosso, and a host of others, all of it vibrant and bursting with life.

“I grow salad crops and herbs year round because the demand’s there. I’m all for growing and eating seasonally, just like many people, but in the winter when the only things that’d otherwise be available are turnip, swede, and parsnip, with a side order of cabbage, conviction tends to weaken when faced with that particular reality. I don’t suppose your guests at the hotel would be too enthusiastic with little more than root veg for three or four months of the year.”

Luca laughed. He couldn’t help it, because the surly farmer was right. He caught Adrian’s eye, the suggestion of a smile in their gold flecked, dark green depths.

“It’s the soft herbs we’re most interested in, but also salad crops. The New House prides itself on serving locally sourced organic food, everything from meat, milk, and fruit and veg. Is your produce organic?”

“Of course. No pesticides or synthetic fertilisers here. Just hard work and dedication. I’ve got every certificate under the sun to prove it.” Adrian swooped and plucked up a few rocket leaves, a half smile on his lips as he held them out to Luca, his gaze intent and direct. “Have a taste and tell me what you think.”

A shiver tumbled down Luca’s spine, despite the humid heat in the tunnel. He plucked the leaves from Adrian’s hand, held out like a challenge, taking care not to let his fingers brush against Adrian’s. Biting down on the soft leaves, he was hit by their peppery punch, the flavour vibrant and mouthwatering.

Luca’s mind raced. The produce they bought in was top quality, but this was miles ahead.

“Most of this is destined for restaurants I supply in Exeter, and other businesses closer to home, with the surplus being sold in the weekly farmers’ market.”

“My executive chef keeps a keen eye on the market, she?—”

A scowl settled over Adrian’s face and Luca swallowed a sigh. Tactless and grumpy, Rhonda and Adrian Hardy were two peas out of the same pod.

“I believe I’ve already apologised on her behalf if she was?—”

“Rude and prickly?”

“And you’re not?” The words were out of Luca’s mouth before he could stop them. Heat flooded his face as Adrian stared at him, his expression closed off and unreadable.

Oh, god… “That was inexcusable. I apologise?—”

“Is this how you conduct all your meetings with potential suppliers? Are you and your chef some kind of bad cop, good cop double act?”

Luca’s back stiffened, his patience wearing thin. “I’ve apologised. More than once. But she wouldn’t have approached you if she didn’t think it was worth doing so, because her standards are second to none. I’m sorry if you don’t believe you’ve been given the deference you clearly feel is your due. To be frank, and because you’ve made it clear how much you appreciate plain talk, I see little point in pursuing a potential business partnership, not when you’re so clearly prone to tantrums?—”

“Tantrums?” Adrian said quietly, his eyes narrowing.

Luca shivered, despite the heat and the sweat pooling in his armpits, the base of his back, and the slow trickle of a bead inching down his spine. He’d crossed a line, had acted counter to the professional he knew himself to be, but it was too late to go back now. He’d be lucky if Adrian bloody Hardy didn’t pick him up and throw him out. The man was certainly tall and strong enough to do it.

“I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but never being prone to tantrums. Maybe she caught me at an off moment. Just like you did me, last night. I’ve had a lot on my mind these last few days.”

Another not quite apology, but… “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was wrong and unprofessional. But let’s not waste each other’s time. Is it worth me being here, or should I turn around and get back in my car?”

“Because I might have another tantrum, you mean?”

Luca shrugged. Adrian had said it, not him.

Adrian tilted his head, his eyes boring into his. Luca fought the impulse to look away. For god’s sake… he’d dealt with trickier, touchier individuals than Adrian Hardy… Another bead of sweat inched its way down his spine.

“You came here to talk business,” Adrian said slowly, “but we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s talk and see if we can reach an agreement. But I should warn you, I don’t let my stuff go cheaply. My produce is streets ahead of anybody else’s for miles around. I can let you have what you want, for a price. Follow me. I’ll show you what you came here for, and you can take some samples back with you.”

Like the first, the next polytunnel was full of fresh produce, the heady aroma of herbs reminding Luca of the sun drenched Mediterranean. Fresh and fragrant, they danced on the tongue.

“And what about delivery? Can you guarantee timely shipments?”

“You’ll get your produce fresh and on time.”

Luca resisted the urge to breathe in deep. The rich scent of the herbs, of the warm earth, mingled and merged with the deep musk of Adrian’s raw masculinity.

“Timely delivery’s crucial.” Luca’s voice was little more than a croak. He tugged at the collar of his shirt before loosening off his tie and undoing the top button. It was hard to breathe, the air in the tunnel all of a sudden too hot, too thick, too?—

He swallowed hard and glanced away, but the intensity of Adrian’s gaze pulled his own back. Adrian’s dark green eyes burned into his, eyes which were fringed by long, sooty lashes. Dark stubble pierced through Adrian’s skin and Luca doubted that shadow of scruff would ever be too far from the surface. Sweat drenched him, the air in the tunnel growing heavier and more cloying. He looked over his shoulder, towards the door, outside of which clear, cooler air beckoned.

“You’re too hot.”

Adrian’s voice sounded miles away, and Luca swung around too fast, causing him to stagger, his sight shadowing for a moment as dizziness took hold of him.

Strong hands clamped themselves to his arms, holding him steady.

“Let’s get you out of here and back into the fresh air.”

Adrian’s voice was calm and measured, confident and sure, and Luca nodded as he was guided from the tunnel, Adrian’s firm hold never leaving him.

Outside, Luca sucked in one huge lungful of cooler air after another as Adrian led him towards a bale of hay in the shade.

“I’m fine now. The heat and humidity in there, it just?—”

“You need to sit down. I’m in and out of the tunnels all day, but if you’re not used to the sudden extremes of temperature it can be a shock. We’ll go up to the house in a moment. Get you a cool drink.”

“No, I’m?—”

“My farm, my rules. Besides, I don’t want you collapsing and then trying to sue me. This is about my self interest, not yours.”

“I wouldn’t…”

Adrian chuckled and sat down next to him on the bale. His expression was serious but amusement glittered in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you.” Luca looked away. Why did he find it so hard to hold this man’s gaze?

“Take your jacket off, and loosen your tie some more.”

Luca removed his tie, undoing a couple of buttons, but he kept his jacket on. The dizziness had passed, and although still hot, he was feeling better. And besides, sweaty underarm patches was not a good look. But then neither was passing out. He peeled his jacket off, the expensive tailoring no more than a damp cloth.

They made their slow way towards the farmhouse. Luca’s legs felt a little wobbly. Awareness tingled through him that with every step he took Adrian was watching, waiting to catch him if he stumbled. They walked in silence until they reached an open back door leading into the farmhouse, where they both discarded their wellingtons.

“Come through to the kitchen and sit down at the table.”

The shadowy coolness was the balm Luca needed, and he sighed with relief as he slumped into a chair.

As Adrian went to get him water, Luca took time to look around.

One wall was dominated by a huge brick fireplace, darkened with age and flames, and with what Luca thought were corn dollies hanging on either side. The walls in the rest of the kitchen were bright with whitewash, but uneven and lumpy, a sign that the room at the core of the farmhouse was centuries old. The stone floor was smooth, from comings and goings of generations of feet, but the bygone rustic look stopped there.

Shaker style sage green cupboards and sleek modern appliances featured, and a state of the art coffee machine sat on a counter top. A couple of shelves on the wall held a collection of cookbooks, crammed in tight, all of them well used if the broken spines were to be believed. Ancient and modern, shoved together, it should have been jarring yet each element happily accommodated the other.

“It’s a lovely kitchen.” Luca nodded to the cupboards, which looked bespoke rather than flat pack. “And the cookbooks. You must be a keen cook.”

Adrian set down the glass of water on the table with a hard thud. “Used to be. Not so much now.” Adrian glared at the books as though he found them offensive. “They’re just taking up space, so I should get rid.”

Luca said nothing, and instead gulped back the water. So much for small talk.

Adrian plucked up Luca’s empty glass. “I’ll get you another. You’re dehydrated.”

“No, I…” But Adrian was probably right. He drank enough coffee to keep a liner afloat, followed by tea, with water coming a distant third. “I feel better for the drink. Thank you.”

Adrian gave a sharp nod. “Are you up to talking business?”

“Yes, of course I am.”

Adrian pulled out a chair and sat opposite Luca. “Salad leaves, herbs, tomatoes,” he said, not wasting time. “What about winter root vegetables?”

“We’ve got those covered. It’s the salad leaves and herbs we’re looking to source, both native and more exotic varieties. Perhaps tomatoes, but I’d have to come back to you on that.”

Adrian got up and crossed the kitchen. Luca followed him with his eyes. With each step, Adrian’s muscles flexed beneath his worn jeans, hinting at a raw strength barely contained. As his T-shirt hugged his torso, so his jeans hugged his thighs and backside, leaving little to the imagination as to what lay beneath the fabric. Everything hinted at, nothing flaunted. Luca looked away, pulling at his shirt collar.

Adrian returned with a large, knobbly tomato.

“Fresh from the vine, about an hour before you arrived.” Large and misshapen, there was none of the perfection of the supermarket about it. “Taste it.” Adrian held it out.

The words hung between them like a challenge. Luca took the fruit, feeling its firmness in his hand before biting into it. The flavour exploded on his tongue, sweet, tangy, and juicy, bursting with the flavour of summer.

“Good?”

Luca nodded, and fumbled for a handkerchief as the juice trailed down his chin. Adrian beat him to it as he thrust a sheet of kitchen towel at him.

“Everything I do here is about quality, and that comes at a cost.”

Now they were getting to the crux. “I need to know more about your logistics and quality standards first.”

“Fair enough.” Adrian squared his broad shoulders. “Let’s start with logistics. Deliveries are made to my customers three times a week, but I can be flexible within reason. As to standards, like I said, I’ve got all the certification and we can go through the piles of paperwork if you think you’re going to want to take this further. As for pricing…”

Adrian named his price.

Luca said nothing. He’d negotiated more contracts than he could remember, and for bigger fry than salad veggies. But Adrian was right about not selling his produce cheap.

“Your prices are higher than our other local suppliers,” Luca said, keeping his tone neutral.

“But then I’m not just another local supplier. If they could give you what you’re looking for, then you wouldn’t have come knocking on my door. Would you?” Adrian sat back in his chair, his posture relaxed as though he couldn’t care less as to whether they carried on with the conversation or not. “If you want the best, you have to be willing to pay for it otherwise there’s no point continuing.” A smile flittered over his lips as he tilted his chin upwards.

The arrogant, prickly farmer was back in the room. Not that he’d ever left. Luca clenched his jaw, doing his best to maintain his composure. “I understand that, but we also have to consider our budget.”

Adrian leant in slightly, and Luca fought the urge to breathe in the man’s scent.

“I’m not trying to screw you over but I know what my produce is worth. If you can’t appreciate that, then maybe you’re right about this being a waste of time. Your’s and mine.”

“You understand I can’t give you an answer now.” Luca pushed himself up to standing, and Adrian did the same. They were barely inches apart, and in the warm room with the late afternoon sun streaming through, he was more aware than ever of Adrian’s sheer physical presence. Tall, dark, and handsome was a cliché but the terse, grouchy farmer ticked every one of those boxes. Exuding powerful, confident masculinity from every pore, he was an easy man to be attracted to.

Not that Luca had any intention of being attracted.

“I’ll give you a call by the middle of next week if that’s acceptable?”

“Fine with me. But I should make you aware that I’ve been approached by another Exeter restaurant. If you want to work with me I need to know no later than Wednesday. And no, it’s not a ploy on my part. People approach me, not the other way around.” The tilt of Adrian’s lips was more smirk than smile.

Cocky, arrogant, and one hundred per cent undeniably hot as fuck.

Deep in his belly, Luca’s muscles tightened.

“I assure you, I’ll call before then.” Luca cleared his throat and held out a hand which felt far from steady.

Adrian took him in a firm grip that lingered a second too long. Their eyes locked, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the warm pressure of Adrian’s fingers wrapped around Luca’s own. The click-click of paws across the stone floor broke the spell and Adrian pulled away first, the loss of contact like a sudden drop in temperature. Luca looked down to see Spud staring up at him, his tail wagging hard.

Adrian swooped to stroke the dog behind one of its ears. “You looking for your dinner already, boy?” he said softly, his smile gentle and eradicating all his hard lines as he focused on the dog.

“Thank you for your time.”

Adrian looked up. He bit down on his lower lip, his brow furrowing a little, as though he were contemplating a question. “I’ll see you to your car,” he said, instead, his voice gruff and abrupt.

Outside, Adrian pointed to the track leading from the gate. “At the bottom, take the left turn. Follow the road, don’t take any diversions as otherwise you’ll likely end up on the moor. You’ll pick up the satnav soon enough. Or do you want to follow me? So you don’t get lost again?” Adrian nodded to the big Land Rover parked to the side of the house, the same one Luca had blocked in at the pub. Heat seared Luca’s cheeks.

“That’s not necessary.” Irritation burned through his words. “I may have been late, but I got here, ergo I can get back. Don’t you think?”

Adrian snorted, and the heat in Luca’s face burned brighter. He hadn’t meant to sound so snotty. Or maybe he had.

“Therefore, indeed. I was good at Latin when I was at school. It was a big help when I studied French and Italian. And Spanish.” Adrian grinned, his teeth bright in his tanned face.

“Good evening, Mr. Hardy. I’ll do my best not to get lost.” Which is exactly what you can go and do.

“It’s easily done up here, if you don’t know the area well.”

Luca didn’t answer as he pressed his key to release the lock on his car. About to get in, Adrian’s question stopped him.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive? You had that turn earlier. I can follow you if you like, or even take you back.”

“Er…” Luca floundered, and scrambled for his answer. “No. I’m fine. The heat, and needing a drink, that was all it was. But thank you.”

Adrian answered with a hard nod, before swinging around on his heel, stomping his way back to the farmhouse.

Luca drove out and made his way along the rough track. He’d make the deal and then pass everything over to Rhonda to manage. With any luck he’d not have to have any further dealings with Adrian Hardy.