Page 37 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch
Rosie nodded, not quite sure what they were starting again, but keen to find out. Was he planning more bat watching?
Zain held out his hand. ‘The stars are incredible tonight. I’d like to share them with you.’
She laughed and took in the view beyond him, suddenly feeling like she was on a film set. The dark sky above was beautiful, studded with more glittering stars than she’d ever seen. They reflected and shimmered across the lake, which she now noticed was edged with carved pumpkin lanterns.
What –he’d taken a knife to his pumpkins? Rosie blinked a few times. Didn’t he have strict rules about his precious vine fruit?
And was that a wooden rowing boat bobbing next to the jetty? She knew there’d been one stuck in the overgrown bullrushes, but she’d never properly seen it.
And then there was Zain. Standing on her doorstep, wearing a navy suit, the white shirt underneath pulling tight across his firm chest like the buttons wanted to break loose. She’d never seen him in anything that wasn’t fit for labouring outdoors, as much as she secretly loved to ogle him in his tight T-shirts and work boots. Tonight, his hair was scraped back neatly into a low bun, even though a few wavy strands had already pulled away.
Yet more than anything she could see, was the feeling swelling up inside her. Thefloating-to-the-top-of-the-world-nessthat filled every part of her as he held her gaze, his solid hand still outstretched like a question. If somebody didn’t tie her down, she might just glide away.
Was she beingwooed? It was a thing she’d read about in scores of love stories. Heroines being swept off their feet by swishy, romantic gestures – but it had never happened to her in real life. She’d come to believe that sort of thing was reserved for fiction or the glamorous few. The ones who took the starring roles, not the forgettable extras. Perhaps her luck was changing.
Well then, she’d better put down her cup of tea and go with it. If Autumn Meadows had taught her anything, it was that if she never stopped to smell the rambling roses, she couldn’t truly write about them. Was that why her own love stories had always fallen flat? Rosie Featherstone needed some first-hand experience of being wooed.
She let her hand slip into Zain’s and felt the warm deliciousness of it closing around hers, encircling her fingers. With her other arm she pulled down a coat from the hook near the door. Looking down at her feet, she realised that fluffy slipper socks weren’t ideal for whatever nocturnal pursuits Zain was planning. Before she had time to locate her wellies, she heard Zain mumbling something about being her chariot, and suddenly he was sweeping her up into his arms like on the day he’d rescued her from the lake. Only this time she was giggling and calling him silly, and he was smiling, his eyes shining as her legs kicked with glee.
‘Where are you taking me?’ Rosie managed to ask, through her laughter. She tucked herself into his warmth, his usual cedar scent embracing her.
‘Dinner on the lake.’ He tipped his chin towards the boat she’d noticed. ‘I think the bats have just about finished feeding so we shouldn’t bug them too much.’ Then he winced, as though realising the bat part wasn’t quite so romantic. ‘I wasn’t meant to say that.’
‘According to whom?!’
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he strode purposefully towards the water. She looped one arm around his strong neck to steady herself. Her other hand landed on his chest, and she couldn’t help noticing that the buttons on his white shirt were undone just enough to allow a glimpse of the black tattoos stretching across his tanned honey flesh. Her fingers twitched to touch them.
Much to her disappointment, they arrived at the jetty too quickly, and he was soon placing her down. Her legs had never felt so unsteady – and it was nothing to do with where she’d landed. She took a few deep breaths and looked around her. The sight would have made even one of Jane Austen’s romantic heroines weak at the knees.
The jetty had been lined with more tiny jack-o’-lanterns and there were solar string lights woven through the bullrushes. Solar-lit autumn flowers bobbed across the water and the calming sound of crickets was being played from who knew where. The boat itself had received a repaint and was now calledRosie and Him, which was so cheesy that it made her chuckle again. A low table had been placed on the middle with a carved Sweet Dumpling pumpkin acting as a lamp. And to top it all off, she spotted a picnic basket, a blanket and a bottle of what looked like Bonnie’s elderflower wine near the end of the jetty.
‘Are we eating?’ asked Rosie, really hoping so.
‘Yes, of course. When surveyed, seventy-four per cent of people agreed that a date should include food. Although only twelve per cent suggested the food should be seasonal. Clearly, they don’t understand the nutritional benefits of a pumpkin.’
‘You did a survey?’ Rosie laughed.
‘No! Obviously not. I just read something, and...’
‘You’ve been reading up on dates?’
‘Also no.’ He straightened his collar. ‘Ignore me. I was just thinking out loud.’
Rosie nodded sagely. ‘Seventy-four per cent of people probably do it.’
She tried to hide the glimmer from her eyes at the thought that this must be a date, because it was almost too perfect to be true. Even the fullness of the moon and the blanket of stars was on their side tonight.
And unless she was imagining things, he’d just suggested he’d been cooking up his prized gourds, in her honour. Thiswasa surprise.
Zain seemed to remember himself, and the boat. ‘Allow me to help you in.’
25
Rosie wondered if Zain had speed-read the dictionary of dating etiquette as he offered her a stable hand into the boat. It wobbled beneath her slipper-socked feet, nonetheless. She swiftly sat to avoid a woman-overboard situation. Zain stepped in steadily with the supplies, almost like he’d been practising his newly found finesse.
‘I prepared us a meal,’ he declared, still not sounding quite like himself.
Rosie guessed it was nerves, which made her heart melt for him even more. He’d gone to such huge lengths to do something special for her. Something way out of his usual, people-repelling comfort zone. Just like her feelings for him had been growing, maybe his had too. Though if she pondered the thought too much, it would terrify her.
