Page 51 of There's Pumpkin About You
I’m guessing it hasn’t worked judging by the smirk on Oakleigh’s face.
“Uh-huh.” She chugs the rest of her coffee. “Okay, so backtrack a bit because you never really said what the problem with the party is.”
“Oh, yeah,” I mumble sheepishly. “Well, when I took Gus to the hospital, the doctor said that he needs to rest and so I insisted that the guys stop the work on the barn and focus on helping him and Bash with the harvest. Which means…”
“… the barn won’t be finished in time,” she finishes and I nod solemnly. “And you don’t have a backup venue, do you?”
I grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lee-Lee. I’ve messed everything up.”
After a pause which solely consists of me groaning in self-pity, Oakleigh says, “Wren, look at me.”
I do as she asks. “Wren, I didn’t want you to put so much pressure on yourself to get this done. I asked you because you’re my best friend and I trust you more than anyone. I didn’t want you to do this thinking that mistakes weren’t allowed. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Hell, half of the people that I invited I couldn’t even give a shit about, it’s just to boost numbers.” She reaches out for my hand and squeezes. “The only people I really care about are my parents, my sister and you. So, if at the end of the day all we manage to plan is a dinner with those people then it will still be perfect.”
I take a deep breath to try and hold back the tears. “I love you so much.”
“Right back at you, biatch.” We stand up from the table and when Jamie catches my eye, he holds out a thumbs-up to me and gets started on the gang’s coffee order, including his own, before he comes with us down to the farm. “Now, let’s go see this barn, shall we?”
ChapterTwenty-Three
GUS
Work on the barn has been coming along much smoother than I anticipated. Finn has managed to put up most of the outside wall and placed some covered scaffolding around the structure until a functional roof is back on it which thankfully means that Wren hasn’t had a chance to see it.
He’s a nice guy, and I can tell that he really wants his sister’s dream to become a reality. He talks about her a lot; a doting big brother. And whilst I entertain it when he’s around, in my head I really wish he would stop. I already think about his sister enough, I don’t need him initiating thoughts when my brain wants to have a moment’s peace.
The only problem I have that currently trumps hazel eyes, a pretty face and an annoying attitude is the harvest. It’s been a week since I delivered Nigel’s pumpkin and, in that time, the usual six completed orders have been whittled down to two.
Two fucking orders. I’m so screwed.
And on top of that, my shoulder has felt more screwed up than usual. I wake up with it sore, I go to sleep with it sore, I do all but breathe and it’s sore. I think Bash is starting to notice because he’s been giving me that look. The look that tells me that he wants me to slow down but knows that it would be pointless to ask. And it would be pointless, because I have to help. I had to be a leader and let go of all my staff, so what else is there for me to do? I need to make sure that I get shit done no matter what. The shittiest part right now, however, is that all I can do is fucking admin. Well, it’s all I can do when people are watching me.
One field is halfway done. I can see that Bash is exhausted as well and I’m not sure what to do to help. I can’t give him time off until the fields are done and I can’t help any more than I already am, so what is there left for me to do? Finn and Jamie help out as often as they can, but I need them focused on the barn.
Mori nudges me with her nose which snaps me out of my thoughts. Bash is further down the row, a white puff of air leaving his mouth as he blows out a breath. He leans back, stretching his back with a grimace that I know he thinks I can’t see. There are a few pumpkins surrounding him on the ground, waiting for me to follow and add to the crates. He’s currently shirtless like I am, his jeans and boots caked in mud thanks to the morning dew.
Just as I start to move along the row, I feel the heat on my back from someone’s gaze. A jolt of electricity zips up my spine and I instantly know who it is. My work of avoiding her has been award-worthy up until now, but I’ve grown lazy with it. Maybe I wanted to slack off, because although it annoys me to admit it, I do miss arguing with her.
I turn around and see her standing at the edge of the field with another woman, coffees in hand. I check my watch and see that she’s on time today. I’ve grown dependent on this coffee over the past couple of weeks to the point that on the mornings when I’m avoiding Wren, I come back to a cold cup and still guzzle it down with the same gusto that I would were it hot.
My eyes meet hers and, for a moment, even Mori’s nudges can’t drag me away from this sight. Not even breaking my other arm could tear my gaze away from the sight of Wren’s eyes lighting up with a heat that I can see even from several paces away. She takes in the sight of my torso, the view clear as day for her. I wipe the sweat away from my forehead and she follows the motion as if in a trance.
I let myself take the same liberties—dropping my line of sight to those sinful knee-high boots, to the tights that offer a glimpse of those legs which are barely covered by the turtleneck jumper dress than sticks to her hips and breasts, provoking some rather dirty ideas. Brown curls sit in a messy bun atop her head, but the wind threatens to free it, and for the first time in my life, I find myself jealous of the fucking wind.
Her eyes catch on my chest, and I realize she’s staring at my tattoo—a pumpkin seed with the initials “CF” engraved into the middle and vines curling all around it. I see one dark eyebrow curve upward with curiosity. It’s not the first time she’s seen it. I see that on her face as she makes an active effort to stop herself from asking its meaning.
She’ll have to work for it if she wants a closer look than what she’s had the past week.
Woah, wait, what?
Where the fuck did that come from?
“Oi, Auggie!” Bash yells, making the both of us jump. When I turn, I see that he’s made it to the end of the row and his usual puppy-like temperament has completely disappeared. If there’s one thing I know it’s that if Sam and I are assholes, there’s no way that gene missed Bash as well. And it didn’t miss Bash, you just have to see him when he’s tired…
… or hungry, or overwhelmed, or suffering from blue balls that one time…
He lifts his arms in a “what the fuck is going on?” gesture, and I hold up a hand in return. When I turn back towards Wren, I’m shocked to see she’s disappeared and I’m left in the middle of the row with a coffee waiting on my truck bed on one side, an angry brother on the other, and a stiff erection down below.
Yeah… this is going to be fine.
