Page 40 of Love and Lattes at Pumpkin Hollow
‘I’ll check on the pumpkin patch too,’ I agreed. ‘Better to be safe than sorry. I thought we would have sold a few more tickets by now. Do you think it’s too expensive? Is that putting people off?’
‘It’s probably too early to tell. Word needs to spread. What has Dylan said about it all?’
‘Dad, I can do this by myself.’
‘You said yourself – he’s good at business and all that online, social media stuff… I think I hear his car.’
We saw a pair of headlights coming up the drive. I relaxed in my chair. Maybe I had been listening out for his return.
‘I need to take him back his laptop,’ I said. I had looked at the budget and I was maxed out. I would have to try to be happy with what I had bought for the patch so far. I couldn’t justify using any more money when we’d only sold ten tickets. I needed to see how the opening week went and then maybe make tweaks accordingly if people still weren’t coming to the farm. My hopes were high for the penultimate week of October, which was half-term, but that would only be successful if people who did come by beforehand enjoyed it and spread the word. I worried there wasn’t enough going on. It was hard to know. I couldn’t put myself in a visitor’s shoes. I had created it all. ‘I could see if Dylan does have any ideas to increase ticket sales, I guess. I just don’t want to rely on him, Dad.’
‘I don’t know, he seems happy for you to do that.’
‘Why, though? He wants us to sell. I made this crazy pact with him but he’s still here, helping us, and his brother definitely seems pissed off about it. I can’t say I blame him. Dylan’s not focused on their business while he’s here. And if I keep asking for help, relying on him, it’s going to make things really hard once we reach the end of the six weeks and we have to decide whether to sell to him or not. Either way, one of us gets hurt. And then after it all, we won’t see each other again.’
Dad leaned on his elbow. ‘I did wonder why he agreed to stay for six weeks. You don’t do something like make the pact you two made if you’re happy with your life. He’s looking for something, Willow. Maybe you both are.’
A tiny bit of hope sprung up inside my chest. I let myself imagine for a second that I could rely on Dylan, that I could ask for his help and not worry about it, that after the end of these six weeks, we wouldn’t get hurt or have to go our separate ways forever. It all seemed too unbelievable, though. Even if Dad was right and Dylan didn’t like his life, I liked mine.
Didn’t I?
Maple barked as a gust of wind whipped around the house.
I sighed and looked out of the window. ‘We better check on things, I guess. My phone still says no sign of a storm but I’m not sure.’
‘Okay, you go and take Dylan his laptop and I’ll check on the farm; you look at the patch before you come back for the night. Stay here, Maple; the wind will upset you, girl.’
I headed for Dylan’s cottage first, glancing at the pumpkin patch as I went. It seemed all fine as far as I could make out but I knew I better check everything was secure and properly covered just in case. The farm was pitch-black and the stars were hidden by the clouds that had crept over the sky. The wind was noisy and it blew my hair around my face, which I’d left down, still slightly damp from my shower before dinner. There was no sign of rain, though so I was hopeful the breeze would dissipate before morning. It would be a long weekend ahead of trying to get ready for Monday and I was feeling more stressed than I’d admitted to Sabrina and Dad. Everything was riding on this and the pressure was building.
I knocked on the cottage door and wondered if I could be honest with Dylan.
‘I brought your laptop back,’ I said lamely, when he opened the door.
‘Come in,’ he said, with an inviting smile.
I hesitated, knowing that I needed to check on the pumpkin patch but I also wanted his advice so when he stood back, I walked inside.
31
‘Something smells good,’ I noted when I walked through the cottage into the kitchen, which was warm, light and inviting. I felt a bit better already.
Dylan returned to where he’d been stirring something on the cooker. I put the laptop down on the kitchen table as he smiled over his shoulder at me.
‘It’s Birchbrook’s fault. Come and see,’ he said, beckoning me over with a nod. He’d changed after the day and now had on jogging bottoms and a T-shirt, his feet bare, and his hair was damp, clearly from the shower. He looked completely relaxed and at home in the cosy cottage; the log fire in the corner crackling merrily, allowing him to just be in a tee. I waited a second to drink him in while he had his back to me. He really was attractive. I’d initially thought he was too much of a city boy for me to crush on him, but the longer he spent on the farm, the more that side of him seemed to evaporate, making me feel like he had never been that type of man; I had just painted him as such when I saw him in his suit that first day.
‘So, what are you making?’ I asked, stepping over to stand beside him and peer over into the saucepan. I caught him glance at my black leggings, long, plaid shirt and trainers, and my loose, damp hair. I told myself I shouldn’t care, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted him to find me attractive too.
‘Ever since I had a hot chocolate in the café, I’ve fancied another one so I found a recipe online and thought I’d give it a go. I was going to bring one over to you but now you’re here…’ Dylan reached out and touched the small of my back with the hand that wasn’t stirring the hot chocolate, sending warmth through my body, although he quickly let go again, as if he hadn’t planned the contact and had surprised himself as well as me. ‘Want to stay and try it with me? It’s an autumnal hot chocolate, apparently.’
‘I should go and check on the patch with all this wind… but how can I say no to an autumnal hot chocolate? Plus, I was hoping to get your advice.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ He smiled as if that pleased him. ‘I think we should use the pumpkin mugs that Sabrina bought.’
‘What’s got into you?’ I teased.
‘I told you – Birchbrook has changed me. I’m turning into an autumn lover.’ He pulled out the two orange, pumpkin mugs from the cupboard and set them down on the kitchen counter.
‘You’ll be carving pumpkins next,’ I joked as I watched him making our drinks.
