Rachel stepped out onto the cobbles street, the little cafe owner not far behind. Rachels puzzled look sparked the little womans inquisitive nature to help her
"Do you know where your goin' lovey?"
Rachel looked back over the rows of cottages, barns and thatched roofs and felt more lost than ever.
"Actually, I'm looking for a Longhorn Lane"
The woman giggled quietly and replied
"Well thats just two minutes away from here sweet'art. Just take a left at the end of this street here, and you'll come to an old church and straight on the past the pub and bakers, you'll see it"
Rachel thanked the kindly woman and began her mission to find her property. She had not been given a large package for this property, but she assumed their wasn't much to it. In the package their was usually the address and telephone number of the holder of the property, a photo of the property itself and then collections of data about it - anything from historical background and structural data, to number of rooms and its previous ownership. However in this package their was none of the typical information and no photo, just the basics. This either meant it was a modern property with not much background due to it being new, or a completely run down mass of bricks, with no background due to it being useless.
Rachel walked past the old church and saw the styrup pub. A young couple were walking their two collie dogs. They wore big green wellington boots, and seemed typical to this area. Passing the pub further down the cobbled surfaces, Rachel was struck with a sweet nectorous aroma that made her stand still in her tracks. The smell wafted around her nose teasing her endlessly. She followed the smell down the street to a big sign advertising 'The Bakewell Bakers' she bent over and peered down to the delicious treats lined up like dogs in a window, waiting for a kindly potential owner to take them. All kinds of delicious pastries, cakes, breads and treats urged the girl to wonder into the shop, but she resisting, for she had seen the village clock indicating that it was close to 20 past, and she still hadnt located her property.
She decided it was best that she walk away now. Her strict diet could be ruined with just one bite of the greasey but enticing croissants, laid agonisingly close to the doorway. She stood up, not realising how close she was to the heavy shop sign and her head thumped against the heavy swinging wood. Rachel let out a small, hurtful groan and tried to fix her now crooked up-do. Looking through the window, at what she thought was her own reflection, she suddenly realised there was a different face staring back at her. A wave of embarassment crept in as she realised someone had seen her hit her head on the sign, and not only was it another someone but a guy, a very good looking guy at that.
His friendly smile disappeared and he walked round the corner and out of the doorway to see if she was okay. Any pain of her poor head had now taken a back bench to her embarassment as she saw just how handsome this guy was. He was striking to look at, with his soft, green eyes and a head shining brown swept back hair. His cheiseled jaw line softened with just a hint of stubble dotted around the bottom of his chin. He was wearing a simple close fitting t-shirt, complimenting strong hefty arm. He had old torn jeans on secured with a plain brown belt and chocolate stained apron around his middriff.
He came across as very confident, overly confident in fact as his walked straight up to her, eyeing up her fresh wound. He towered over her, at least 6 and a half foot tall. Even in her 3 inch work heels, the petite Rachel was drowned in his shadow.
"Well, I couldn't say there was any permanent damage on the outside, but I couldn't say anything on the inside"
Rachel looked up at his soft smile and replied with an awkward half-smile, a sad little giggle and a step back
"Im Mike, I work here, well I wouldn't say work as much as slave driven. It my dads shop. Although I can bake a mean chocolate torte when Im in the mood"
Rachel stayed silent, still donning an awkward smile. She looked past his apple cheeks and saw the village clock at 9:35. She was late.
"Er, Yeah. I like torte"
Another awkward silence.
"Rachel. Thats. Yeah. Im Rachel. Im late. I really gotta go"
She shot off without another word leaving the slightly amused, slightly confused bakers son stood under the sign alone.