Page 57 of Love and Lattes at Pumpkin Hollow
‘I’ll think about you too,’ I whispered before closing the farmhouse door and sinking against it with a wistful sigh.
43
We now had just one week to go until the penultimate week of October and what would be our biggest test yet: half-term. It was also my birthday week.
Monday morning dawned crisp and sunny, and Amy came back with some of her fellow social media influencers. I wandered over to where they were taking videos and photos of each other walking through the autumn tunnel in their seasonally themed outfits of browns and oranges and creams.
‘This is going above and beyond,’ I told Amy when she left them to greet me. I’d phoned her to thank her for the publicity she’d already given us after her first visit; I hadn’t expected her to return this year. And the fact she’d brought a group that would hopefully also share the farm online really meant a lot.
‘I loved it, I told you, and my followers did too. And you have such aesthetic set-ups; it looks so good for outfit photos and fun videos,’ she assured me with a warm smile. ‘Where’s Dylan? We had a chat when I arrived but I’ll try to say goodbye to him before we leave.’
‘He’s helping Dad at the payment table as we’re really busy today.’ I glanced around. We were at three-quarter capacity today: our most popular day yet.
‘I was really shocked when he contacted me to say he was staying on a farm. I thought he was like me and could only survive in a city.’ She laughed. ‘It’s nice to see him so relaxed, though.’
‘You think he is relaxed here?’
‘Oh, definitely. Listen, we both come from pretty uptight families and Dylan found it harder than me, I think, to find his way within our world. I assume he told you I went out with his brother for a bit and I always wondered if he was the one who got away but I have to say, now I’ve met my own farmer, I can see the appeal.’ She leaned in. ‘Dylan’s clearly smitten with you.’
‘Oh, we’re not a couple,’ I said automatically.
Amy looked confused.
‘Well, I suppose there is something between us but it’s not official or anything,’ I added, feeling a bit flustered as I tried to explain what we were to each other when I really didn’t have a clue myself.
‘I think you go great together, not that my opinion matters, I know. Dylan is a good guy. He really hasn’t had it easy what with losing his mother and his family not being particularly caring, shall we say. I think being here has given him the freedom and a fresh perspective that he needed. It’s great to see him so happy.’ She gave my arm a squeeze. ‘I think he’d make you happy too if you want him to.’
She gave me a cheerful wave before re-joining her friends, leaving me thinking over what she’d said. It was nice to hear that someone from Dylan’s life thought he was thriving here and that I wasn’t just hoping that to be the case.
When I walked outside, the man himself came over with a paper plate. ‘I picked up two slices of pecan pie from the Birchwood Café van. Can you take a break with me and have a slice? There’s whipped cream too.’ He dropped me a wink, which did make me giggle as I thought back to how we’d made use of it in the past.
My mouth watered on cue. ‘It’s too tempting to turn down,’ I replied, also dropping a wink, making him chuckle.
We weaved through the families outside who were choosing their favourite large, orange pumpkin to carve for Halloween and walked over to the cottages where we sat outside on the step to eat side by side.
‘Amy’s friends should help us get even more visitors for half-term,’ Dylan said. ‘I’ll go into town after we’ve had this and deliver some more flyers around. Plus, I want to pick up something for tomorrow.’ He had a secretive smile on his face.
My stomach somersaulted a little bit, so I hastily tried the pecan pie. ‘Mmm. That’s good. Pat gets better and better at her sweet treats,’ I said. Then I eyed him. ‘So, you’re picking up something for tomorrow?’ It was my birthday and after much pressing from Sabrina and my dad, I had agreed to have a small dinner at the farmhouse with them.
‘I am, but it’s a surprise.’
‘I’m not sure I like surprises.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’ he asked, looking across at me.
I hesitated.
‘It’s okay, I told you I want to earn your trust. It’s a good surprise, I promise.’ Dylan’s phone lit up on the ground between us and he checked it. ‘We’re getting more social media tags today,’ he said. ‘And ticket bookings are flying in for half-term. I think we have a chance of selling out for the week if the next couple of days follow how it’s going today.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s kind of surreal. I can’t believe it’s happening. I wondered if I was the only one who loved this time of year this much.’ I looked over at the bustling field full of smiling faces and pumpkins, coloured fallen leaves scattered everywhere, crunching under people’s feet. ‘I got that from my mum. She said this was her favourite season. She had this feeling that she’d have a child in autumn. And her love of trees led her to call me Willow.’
Dylan smiled. ‘I’m sure you can guess who my mother was a big fan of and called me after. This farm reminds me so much of summers with my grandmother. Which is weird as she lived by the coast and we’re on a countryside farm but I think it’s the feeling.’
I turned to find him watching me. ‘What’s the feeling?’
‘A feeling of comfort, maybe. Cosy. Wholesome. A feeling of…’ He trailed off. ‘Anyway, I better head off, unless you need anything?’
Shaking my head, I watched Dylan get up and give me a smile before he walked over to his car. I wondered if he had just been about to say the word ‘home’. Did the farm feel like home to him? That thought made me smile. It did already feel like he belonged here. Seeing Dylan climb into that fancy car was jarring now I was used to him wearing jeans, flannel shirts and boots or trainers, his hair tousled from the autumn breeze, a Barbour jacket slung over his arm, working on the farm beside me. That car seemed like it wasn’t his any more. I wondered if Dylan felt that way too.
