Sweaty in the midday sun and nearing the end of the long hike up the steep track through bush, Ritchie Monier breathed in satisfaction as he rounded a bend and saw a truck with trailer loaded with hay travelling along Stuart Road that followed the skyline ridge.
After crossing the road, his route would be all downhill to the sea, four miles away according to his map. Ritchie licked his lips at the thought of only another four miles he'd be in a tavern downing a refreshing cold beer.
As Ritchie neared the road, he heard a loud bang, louder that a gun shot and saw a green SUV pull to a wobbly stop.
Moments later the breeze off the sea brought to him the expressive sound of a woman's angry shout, "Fuck."
He grinned, thinking who could blame her for venting herself in unladylike language when assuming she was alone.
He was close enough to see her looking at the driver's left rear tyre and she screamed, "Fuck, fuck and I don't have a clue how to change a tyre."
Ritchie strode forth to assist a lady in distress.
"May I be of assistance?"
"Jesus, you scared the crap out of me," she said startled and confirming that she was no lady.
Her red face turned even redder and her sizeable bosom began heaving.
"Ma'am, don't be alarmed," Ritchie said, and pointing to his chest and back packs and added he was a recreational hiker.
"You're English," she said almost accusingly but appeared to relax a little.
"Yes, I'm English and come from near Chulmleigh but you won't have a clue where that is?"
"It's a very small market town in North Devon. I used to pass through it when going to Exeter. About one-third of the families in this district where we are now, have forebears who immigrated to New Zealand from the south-west counties of England."
Ritchie's mouth gaped.
Recovering from surprise, he said he was coming up the track when he heard the tyre blow out and saw the vehicle swerving.
"You handled the disabled vehicle very competently for a female."
"Go bite your bum."
"Excuse me?"
"Listen mate, I began driving farm vehicles unaccompanied from when I was eight years old."
He said politely that he believed her.
She smiled, adding attractiveness to her already pretty face.
"Well probably I was 10 but you might accept that the truth can stretch. Replace that wheel with the spare for me while I make us a nice cuppa (tea) with flask hot water and hunt through my groceries for the raspberry jam sponge roll that was sitting in the bakery display cabinet until one hour ago."
Ritchie said enthusiastically, beginning to shed his packs, "Find that jam roll and I'll double-check that the wheel nuts are on as tightly as they should be."
"Good man. Oh, I'm Isabella Ashworth."
Ritchie touched his forehead and said, "Greetings ma'am, I'm Ritchie Monier."
"Hi Ritchie. I must say I have a bored daughter at home who'd be rather interested in meeting a fine-looking guy like you but I supposed you're taken?"
"Not quite, Mrs Ashworth. The older two Hollis sisters, who live near us, compete for my attention and as yet I'm undecided, swinging between them while waiting for my dream babe to appear from somewhere. But anyway, my older brother intends to take over the family farm and I'll be moving on."
The straight-taking country woman said, "Never fear, you look like the type to bounce back."
"I completed my veterinary qualifications last year and spent eight months in an animal research centre to gain experience and with that activity that involve field trials virtually closing down before the onset of winter. I travelled out here to look New Zealand over as the country has strong ties with the UK."
"Oh, how splendid for you," Isabella said, eyeing Ritchie thoughtfully. "Ritchie, please call me Isabella. Where do you plan to sleep tonight?"
"Under a tree or perhaps I'll look for a motel bed when I reach the coast."
"My offer might appeal to you. You kindly assisted me by changing that wheel and now I'm offering you dinner this evening and a bed for the night. What say you?"
Ritchie was hesitant, wondering if this was this a 'come on'; was her husband away and she fancied a romp with a young university graduate who just might be the young stud she always dreamed of snaring.
Um, he mused. Did women really think like that?
She said impatiently, "I assume your mother will have warned you about avoiding tangling with horny rural married women?"
He appeared startled.
"Look at me Ritchie. Just accept the offer. I'll be taking you into a family situation where you'll be comfortably relaxed and enjoying great country hospitality. My husband and I grew up here from our late teens, with me being the fifth generation of ex-Devon immigrants. Archie my husband came here from Holsworthy in Devon when he was nineteen. Your family's farm probably is only about an hour's drive from his parent's former farm."
Ritchie said in surprise, "Well fancy that. I take it he'll be home tonight?"
"Yes of course. You surely I don't think I would have invited you to stay the night if he wasn't home?"
"No of course not," he said hastily, hoping not to sound like he was lying.
"Good, I do try most of the time to sound and behave like a couth wife."
He said, "And you dress well and besides, if I may say so, you keep yourself in attractive mode."
"Oh Ritchie," she smiled and said she now liked him even more.
He smiled and went off to grab his backpacks.
"I'd offer to wash your back when you shower but Sophie would accuse me or attempting to push in."
"Who is Sophie?" he asked, forgetting about the earlier mention of a bored daughter.
"Our youngest daughter Sophie, who still lives at home."
"I wouldn't allow a minor in a bathroom alone with me."
"And rightly so Ritchie, but Sophie is 23, a young adult. She's allowed to do whatever she wishes at home, within reason. She has a double bachelor degree in Education and Computer Science and at present travels each week day to complete year-long studies for her post-graduate diploma to begin teaching at secondary school senior level next year."
"Ah, so she's intelligent and articulate and has got it all together?"
"Not really. While she has been successful scholastically, she's boisterous, unpredictable and a sport-mad youngster whose biggest problem is she's without a regular date."
Ah, he theorised, pulling at his left ear. This Sophie was bright but probably looked like a ploughman's daughter and entered early adulthood with unbalanced sexuality because so far only non-discriminatory females had been attracted to her charms and pussy.
Realizing Isabella would be expecting a response to her disclosure he said, "Ah, after the active university life with males everywhere, she probably does feel neglected right now?"
Isabella proceeded passionately.