“The convenience store doesn’t have much. Why don’t we eat together at The Anchor, and I can find some time tomorrow to take you to get a rental car? Maybe give you a lesson on how to drive here,” he added pointedly.

“Is it that hard? I thought we just drove on opposite sides of the road.” I knew that it would be a little discombobulating at first, but did I really need a lesson?

“Which is harder than you think. But there’s more to it than that. We have different rules of the road here. And roundabouts. Lots of roundabouts.”

Hmm, when he put it that way. “Okay, I’d be grateful. Are you sure you have time?” I was under the impression farmers worked around the clock, and was more than a little surprised he’d joined me for lunch.

His dark, autumnal eyes locked on mine. “I’ll make time.”

A rush of attraction swept over me like a wave, and I tensed on my stool. Friend zone, friend zone, friend zone, I began to chant inwardly, wrenching my gaze from his. It was so unfair. If I looked into his eyes too long, I got flutters in my belly. If I stared at his mouth too long, I got tingles a little farther south than my belly.

The only place to look was his nose, and that was just weird.

Deciding that not to look at him at all was the best option, I studied my dwindling sandwich.

It seemed to work, and I relaxed long enough to pepper Roane with more questions about his life. It turned out he’d taken over management of what sounded like a fairly sizable farm from his parents. They had retired to their second home in Greece, which made me assume the farm was financially successful. But I soon learned Roane had to work extremely hard to make it so.

“We’re a commercial mixed farm,” he explained. “Meaning we farm to sell at market. Our arable farming is on the eastern part of the estate, where we grow crops of winter wheat and barley, oilseed rape, and spring beans. On this side of our estate”—he gestured to the room, so I gathered he meant “right here on the coast”—“we have our sheep farming. We also sell hay.”

That sounded like a pretty big enterprise to me. “And you run it yourself?”

He shrugged. “I manage and work it, but we have employees.” Suddenly he slipped off the stool. “Speaking of which, I need to get back. We’ll be here at seven for dinner. I’ve already reserved a table.”

“That was presumptuous,” I teased.

“Well, I figured you might need a buffer before venturing back into the local.” He chuckled before pressing a quick, surprising kiss to my cheek. “See you at seven.”