Until We Collide

by Charlotte Fallowfield

  Until We Collide

  Charlotte Fallowfield

  ASIN: B019NZR1OA

  Version: 1

  Copyright © 2016 Charlotte Fallowfield

  All Rights Reserved Worldwide

  Any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations and places or events, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  I am a British author and write in British English

  Image Copyright © 2016

  Editing by Karen J

  Proofreading by Jasmine Z

  Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

  Book content pictures purchased from Dollar Photo Club, iStock and Shutterstock

  Foreword

  Written from Paige Taylor’s point of view, Until We Collide is a romantic comedy novel, the first by Charlotte Fallowfield.

  Her website holds the most comprehensive information about her, as well as her current and up and coming releases.

  Dedication

  This novel is dedicated to my best friends, Anna, Claire, Deborah, Françoise, and Karen. Every girl needs a best friend to share love and laughter with, as well as to have, and to be, a shoulder to cry on in times of need. I’m lucky to have all five of these women in my life, and I hope that the laughter we’ve shared has more than outweighed the tears over the years. And long may that ratio remain!

  I hope that you enjoy this novel, which was inspired by my very first crush back in the days that I was in a Shropshire Young Farmers Club (YFC). I can still remember it as if it was yesterday.

  For those of you who have already found your Prince Charming, I hope that you get your happy ever afters. For those, like me, who are still searching, I keep everything crossed that you get to find him soon and have as many laughs along the journey as my heroine, Paige.

  Chapters

  Foreword

  Dedication

  The Cow’s Arse

  Stick in the Mud

  Cinderella

  The Dilemma

  Just Lunch

  A Model Citizen

  Nose Out Of Joint

  A Pain In The Neck

  The French Connection

  Light My Fire

  The Italian Job

  Mission Impossible

  The Gorilla

  A Stitch In Time

  Flash Gordon

  A Line In The Sand

  Prince Charming

  Fresh As A Daisy

  Epilogue

  Win A Signed Paperback

  Next Release

  About Charlotte Fallowfield

  The Cow’s Arse

  July

  ‘Poppie, you’d tell me if I was about to make a fool out of myself, wouldn’t you?’ I asked my best friend, biting my lower lip nervously as I waited for her answer.

  ‘Please,’ she muttered with a roll of her glossy chocolate eyes as she buttoned up my long, stark white jacket. She stepped back to cast an appraising eye over my new look and giggled. ‘You look quite the part.’

  ‘O shut up,’ I giggled in response, reaching up to smooth my ponytail and check for any stray hairs. I’d taken extra care this morning, using my hair straighteners to ease out the natural waves in my long brown hair. Then I’d also made sure that my makeup was light and fresh, enhancing my baby pink heart-shaped lips and deep blue eyes.

  ‘I can’t believe you actually did it. We’re virtually townies now, Paige, not country bumpkins who say “Ooooh, ahhhh,” after every sentence.’

  ‘I love that you’re so undiscriminating,’ I laughed, giving her a shoulder bump.

  ‘Whatever, this guy had better be worth me getting up at this ungodly hour on a Saturday,’ she moaned, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulders.

  ‘It’s eleven a.m. Hardly ungodly.’

  ‘It so is. Bloody young farmers my arse. When have you ever stepped on a farm before today? You’re all about heels and glamour, yet here you are dressed up like a butcher in wellington boots,’ she scoffed, folding her arms across her ample chest as she shook her head.

  ‘Not just wellington boots,’ I protested, looking down at my attire. ‘These are Hunters, the crème de la crème of wellingtons. I even got myself a waxed Barbour jacket to look the part. This was a very costly mission.’ I’d spent all of my savings on the two items in the hope that they’d get me noticed by him.

  ‘You’ll be wearing a tweed skirt and flat cap next, and going out on a weekend fox hunt,’ she laughed.

  ‘I’m telling you, when you see him, you’ll totally think it’s worth it.’ I sighed, caught up in a daydream as I thought of Alec Wright, chairman of Young Farmers. At twenty-one, he was four years older than me and, in my eyes, the epitome of male perfection. Six foot three, dirty blonde hair that always looked like he’d just got out of bed, blue eyes I could drown in, and the most kissable lips I’d ever seen. It was obvious he worked out, and he took so much pride in his appearance. I had some stiff competition for his affections though. Since he’d transferred to this club from another on the other side of town, the female membership had apparently exploded, reaching heights the club had never seen. And it was all down to Alec, sex God extraordinaire.

  ‘O, Christ, you’re off on one of your daydreams about him again. Hello, earth to Paige,’ Poppie called, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

  ‘Sorry,’ I grinned, shutting the boot of my car. ‘Come on then, let’s get this over and done with.’

  ‘This I have to see,’ she replied, shoving a clipboard and gel pen in my hand. She linked arms with mine as we made our way across the field, heading towards the stables of the large farm that hosted the annual summer country show.

  I lived on the outskirts of Shrewsbury, in Shropshire, in a tiny hamlet with my parents. I’d met Poppie at boarding school when we were eleven, and our friendship had continued when we left the security of our all girls’ education and ventured into a mixed sixth form college in the town centre. It had been an eye opener. I’d fallen for the hustle and bustle of a town immediately, the constant noise of people talking and laughing, street sweepers and refuse collectors, pigeons in the town square, and cars hooting as they tried to navigate the one-way system. It was such a contrast to the peace and quiet that I’d grown up in. Then there were the shops. I’d seriously found my calling in life. Clothes, makeup, and accessories shopping. Not that you’d be able to tell under this damn outfit.

  ‘I’m nervous,’ I whispered as I approached Ruth, the Vice Chairman, who had some of the other team members gathered around her.

  ‘I’ll bet,’ chuckled Poppie. ‘I’m going to record this on my phone, so that I can watch it and laugh again and again when I’m feeling blue.’

  ‘I hate you,’ I scowled.

  ‘You love me,’ she winked, letting go of me and shoving me in Ruth’s direction.

  ‘You’re late!’ Ruth snapped with an irritated glare.

  ‘Sorry, but it’s not like they have somewhere to be, is it?’ I cringed as everyone but Ruth sniggered. She’d had it in for me from the moment I'd joined the club.

  ‘Here come the judges. Just remember, even if you don’t know what you’re talking about, sound confident and fake it. The subject in question today is called Daisy. Don’t be afraid to get up close, she’s mostly harmless. Emma Parkinson ended up in hospit
al with a broken nose and two cracked front teeth last year, but I’m sure that was a freak occurrence. Good luck,’ she breezed, shoving me through the stable door. I stumbled and landed face first in a pile of straw on the floor, narrowly missing a very wet and sloppy cow pat. Everyone behind me burst out laughing, Ruth’s witchy cackle the loudest of them all. I hated her with a passion.

  ‘Paige, are you ok?’ came a deep and very sexy voice. Alec. Great! Way to make a good impression, Paige, I scolded myself, pushing up and sitting back on my heels with my back to him. I picked up my clipboard and pen and pretended to scribble on my paper.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you, just checking Daisy’s feet, and I’m pleased to report that they’re hoofilicious. Does she have a pedicure? Are there people who do pedicures for farm animals? Because that pedicurist deserves an award for these alone. I wonder what you’d call yourself if you ran that business? Cowabunga, Trottertasic, Moovellous, or maybe …’

  ‘Did you hit your head?’ he interrupted. ‘You seem to be rambling.’

  ‘I’m good,’ I replied, trying to stand up without looking at him. Nerves got the better of me every single time I was in his presence and I’d babble ten to the dozen, often about rubbish. No way did I want him to see me red-faced. He grabbed my elbow and helped me to my feet, then spun me around. I gulped as I looked up into his blue eyes, which were twinkling with merriment, and felt my legs turning to jelly. He ran his eyes over my face and body, probably checking for damage. He was a good four inches taller than me, which just made him seem all the more masculine. What I wouldn’t give to be wearing a pair of my sexy heels and a pretty dress right now, instead of this blinking outfit.

  ‘You look good, very good in fact,’ he replied, the corners of his lips lifting into a sexy smile that showed off his symmetrical dimples. I blinked a few times. Was he flirting with me? ‘Here, put on these protective safety glasses.’

  ‘Glasses? You don’t expect me to milk her, do you?’ I looked up at him confused, and he shook his head and laughed.

  ‘Right,’ interrupted an older gentleman wearing an outfit similar to mine. ‘Are we ready to begin?’

  ‘Are you ready, Paige?’ Alec asked in a serious tone. I nearly swooned at that simple question. So ready, I wanted to reply, imagining he was here to collect me for a date. I just nodded, knowing my cheeks were colouring up. ‘Good luck, I’ll be watching,’ he whispered. He winked and went to stand outside, locking the lower part of the stable door and placing his elbows on it as Ruth went to stand next to him and did the same. I bristled when I saw her shoulder bump him, laugh, and tuck her hair behind her ear. He’s mine, I wanted to shout, but I had more chance of Daisy talking me through the finer points of her rump than Alec ever asking me out. I put on the ridiculous glasses, sighed, and turned around to face my audience of three judges, four if you counted Daisy, who was chewing on some hay and watching me with her moist, large brown eyes. I had a feeling she was inverting the task, and I was actually here for a judging of humans by her.

  ‘Right, Miss Taylor, ready when you are,’ nodded the eldest judge in the group.

  As I’d just joined young farmers club a few months ago, the only event left for me to partake in at this year’s show was stock judging. To be honest, I’d been hoping for photography, given it seemed to be Alec’s passion. The extent of my knowledge of cows was the beef aisle in our local supermarket. I’d only been told by Ruth on Thursday night that this was what I was being entered for. Evil … cow. I said a silent apology in my head to Daisy for tarring her with Ruth’s brush, then went to stand in front of her and took a deep breath. I cocked my head as I studied her, sucking on the end of my pen in an attempt to look sexily studious.

  ‘Wrong end, Paige,’ Alec called.

  ‘I’m supposed to start at her bottom?’ I asked, looking over at him in surprise. I’d been up most of the night, cramming on the notes he’d handed to me after Thursday’s meeting, and I was fairly convinced that I was supposed to start at her head. Everyone, including the judges, tried to hide their laughter.

  ‘Wrong end of the pen, you have blue ink all over your lips and tongue,’ he indicated with his finger.

  ‘No, seriously?’ I groaned, reaching up to rub my mouth with my fingers. I coated them in wet ink too and quickly wiped them on my white jacket, making even more of a mess.

  ‘Miss Taylor, you’re on a two minute time limit here,’ announced one of the judges, checking his stopwatch. Great, just great. As if being humiliated by my lack of cow knowledge wasn’t bad enough, I was now covered in blue ink with Alec and Ruth watching. I saw Poppie give me a thumbs up of encouragement as she and the rest of the onlookers peered through the wooden slats covering the two window apertures. I took another deep, and hopefully calming, breath and turned to face Daisy again. I scribbled some notes, trying to remember the pointers from the cards that Alec had given me, and walked down her flank to her rear, writing as much as I could remember about what a nice cow should look like, regardless of whether Daisy fit the dairy cow bill. I made it around to her rear end, giving it a gentle squeeze and ignoring Poppie’s fit of giggles that I could hear in the background. I was doing this for Alec, I wanted to make a good impression. ‘Time’s up,’ called the judge. ‘Please give us your verdict.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I nodded, feeling a sea of nerves swirling in my stomach. My mind had gone blank. I looked down at my notes, but it was like I’d written them in a foreign language. ‘Well, I’m judging Daisy on her suitability to be a dairy cow. She has a very pretty name, very fitting for a dairy cow. A name like Gertrude, Henrietta, or Millicent wouldn’t be too far off the mark either. Or maybe a Georgia or Layla. Now a Bob, Gavin, or Bill just wouldn’t do, far too masculine, which brings me to a very crucial point when it comes to dairy cow stock judging … a very crucial point indeed,’ I nodded as I gestured emphatically with my leaking pen. I was losing it. Was I seriously talking about cow names? ‘Man cows can’t be milked, they don’t have these squeezable boobs here.’ I pointed to Daisy’s udders, as I almost did a shudder of shame to realise I’d just called them boobs. Think Paige, think, I ordered myself, desperately racking my brain to get back on track. ‘Or udders as they are commonly known in the … cowiverse. That would be the first thing that I’d consider, is this specimen of cow fit for purpose?’

  ‘Excellent point,’ called Poppie with a clap, trying to give me some encouragement. I saw Ruth rolling her eyes, and Alec just grinned as he chewed on the end of a piece of straw. Great, I was making a complete tit of myself. The first task he’d entrusted me with and I was blowing it. If I stood any chance of him seeing me as anything but a silly, pretty little girl, I needed to focus. I looked back down at my notes, thankful they were in English again.

  ‘She has beautiful bright eyes, with lashes to die for. Mascara companies really ought to check her out for tips. She has a long feminine head and broad nose, a level top line, and very shapely neck and shoulders,’ I announced firmly, some of my confidence returning as I remembered some of my crib card notes. ‘Her udders are long and even, with a broad girth, giving a great handful to squeeze. They’re a lovely pink colour with a prominent vein. I’d imagine they squirt quite nicely once they’ve been pulled for a while.’ O my God! It sounded like I was talking about penises. I ignored the sniggers that came from my audience, this was serious stuff. I was on a roll now. ‘She has very supple skin, I’m not sure if anyone rubs lotion on her, but if they do, they should keep doing it as she’s as soft as a baby’s bottom. Not that I go around touching baby’s bottoms, I might add, I don’t, it’s just that …’

  ‘Back on point please, Miss Taylor,’ coughed the judge.

  ‘Daisy has nice dairy triangles, not Laughing Cow cheese triangles you understand, rather the angles of her length and width. She has a very nice broad and meaty arse … shit, sorry, rump, not arse,’ I stammered, looking over at Alec for reassurance. I was making a complete pig’s ear of this, or cow’s arse of it rather. H
e just gave me a lopsided smile and ran a hand through his hair. I stood for a moment staring at him, mesmerised by how attractive he was.

  ‘The cow’s arse,’ called Poppie, rousing me from my daze.

  ‘Sorry, yes, a very nice ar … rump. In conclusion, I’d say that Daisy was a very fine specimen of dairy cow indeed. I’d have no hesitation in recommending her to anyone that likes milk, or products of a milk persuasion. Best to be avoided by anyone with a lactose intolerance, a fake disclaimer is no one’s friend.’ I clutched my clipboard to my chest, wanting to die of embarrassment. Seconds later, there was the swoosh of a tail across my face and the loudest fart I’d ever heard in my life, as Daisy had a bottom explosion, showering me from head to toe in hot, wet, greenish-brown and udderly stinky, prize dairy cow poo.

  ‘Holy shit,’ screeched Poppie, unable to contain her laughter, and everyone else seemingly joined in as I stood there mortified, dripping in it. The fact that luckily my mouth had been closed and my eyes were covered in protective glasses was little consolation. So much for a good impression.

  I stood in the middle of the yard, fully clothed with my new cow shit accessories, as crowds of onlookers gathered to watch while I was hosed down with freezing cold water by a far too gleeful Ruth. Poppie just grimaced at me as I stood there shivering and dripping when Ruth was finally done.

  ‘Come with me,’ Alec ordered, offering me his hand as he appeared at my side with a bundle of stuff cradled in his one arm.

  ‘I’m wet and shitty,’ I cringed, beyond mortified. ‘I look and smell awful.’

  ‘I’ve seen and smelled worse over the years. Daisy’s known for being a bit of a blaster, you’re lucky she’d been on a pre-show diet or you’d have been covered in a hell of a lot more. I’m surprised Ruth didn’t warn you. Come on,’ he repeated, grabbing my wet hand. Ruth gave me another of her glares, while Poppie gave me a wink and put a hand to her brow, faking a swoon. I knew she’d understand once she saw him. No one could fail to find him attractive. I could feel my cheeks going red as Alec tugged me back towards Daisy’s stall, but all I could think about was that he was holding my hand. I couldn’t stop the inane grin from spreading across my face. It felt so natural, like mine had been made to fit his. Now if only he’d part my fingers with his own, then weave them between, it would be the best day ever, shit shower aside. He led me back into the stall and pushed the lower and upper door to, giving us some privacy. ‘Here, get undressed and put these on,’ he offered, letting go of my hand. ‘It’s just a pair of my gym track pants that I was going to wear later and my gym towel for you to dry your hair with.’