Page 54 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch
She inspected her fingers. A little red, but probably not as bad as her embarrassed face.
Keep your body parts to yourself if you don’t want them burnt. That was surely a good motto to live by. And who on earth had velvety skin, other than teddy bears? That had simply been her romantic writer’s head getting carried away with itself.
‘You’re doing a great job, you know,’ Zain said quietly, his back to her as he worked. ‘I would never have thought of these extra details. This stuff seems to come naturally to you. That and your boundless optimism, even when our chances seem slimmer than one of Agnes’s rescued moggies.’
‘You’re good at a lot of stuff too. The original date on the lake was your idea. That night was...’
She brought her attention back to her chocolate, letting her words taper off.
‘Right, yes,’ he replied. She could sense him shuffling awkwardly. ‘Not sure where the date ideas came from. Must have appeared to me in a dream.’
Rosie’s laptop chimed from the corner. She guessed it was a notification for another launch party ticket bid. As inspired by her lake date with Zain, she’d borrowed more boats and they were auctioning tickets to dine on them, as well as a lakeside picnic option, Zain’s pumpkin patch hayrides and fizz and nibbles under the stars.
Now they just had to hope for no rain, no disasters, and some decent bids to save the day. And that was before she contemplated what on earth she’d do if Farmer Wilbur or anyone from her past showed up and dropped her in it.
The laptop chimed again.
Zain looked up. ‘Someone’s popular.’
‘Actually, I’m not.’ Rosie shook her head.
‘Nor me. It’s over-rated. I don’t even have devices for people to reach me on if I can help it. The Hermit in the Hut.’ He winked at her.
‘It’s people bidding on our tickets. We’ll have a look when I’ve poured the chocolate into moulds.’ Now it was cooling, she motioned for him to bring the spices so she could start stirring them in.
‘Is that where you’ve been writing your novel?’ He nodded towards her screen. His bandana came loose, and he threw it aside.
She felt the heat rising to her cheeks again. ‘Usually, but not this time. I used to rely on Wi-Fi for my work to save to a cloud, and we don’t get that in our cabins.’ It had been enough to get Agnes to agree to it in the house. ‘So I’ve been using an old typewriter. At least I can’t keep rewriting every word or deleting things in a huff.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s almost freeing.’
Zain tipped his spices into Rosie’s chocolate, and they watched the motion of her wooden spoon as she stirred them in.
‘I’ll have to edit my manuscript when I’ve finished the first draft, which I would have done on paper anyway. Once I’ve done that, I’ll type up the edited version on my laptop. And then heaps more edits. Though a chatbot could probably have written the whole thing in about fifteen seconds, of course. Not that Artificial Intelligence could possibly create anything heartfelt.’ She rolled her eyes. Being at Autumn Meadows Farm with Zain had convinced her that the best words came when you felt truly alive, which AI never would be.
Zain cleared his throat. ‘A chatbot. No. Of course not. I mean, who knows.’ He waved a hand. ‘Maybe some people would need that, but not you. I’m sure you’re better than that. Erm... Rosie?’ His body tensed and he seemed to be considering something.
Rosie looked up. Whatever it was, it was making deep furrows on his beautiful forehead.
‘Something up?’
He blinked a few times before bringing his attention back to the chocolate moulds he was meant to be lining up. ‘No, of course not.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Is the first draft of your novel nearly finished?’
Rosie sensed that wasn’t the real topic that had been playing on his mind, but she continued anyway. If it was important, he’d come back to it when he was ready. ‘Actually, I think it might be. I’m just not sure of the ending yet.’
She’d been letting art imitate life, inspired by what was happening at the farm, with a fictional twist and a bit of artistic licence. Though it looked like she’d have to compose her own fictional ending, as there would be no romantic finale between her and Zain.
‘Am I in it yet?’
‘No!’ Rosie yelped, almost too quickly. He wasn’t, exactly. Her main male character was called Cain, rather than Zain, although he did look suspiciously similar, and had treated her main female character Josie to exactly the same romantic dates. She’d obviously have to change some of that but writing it had been like reliving it – and what she wouldn’t give to experience those moments again.
‘Good,’ he replied. ‘I would hate that. Anyway, I’m not sure anyone would get me.’
‘You’d probably stir up too much trouble,’ she teased.
‘Though maybe you could combine your passions and run writing retreats here? I bet they’d go down a storm.’
‘See what I mean about trouble?’ She laughed. ‘Maybe one day, in a dream life. But one thing at a time, hey?’
Rosie grabbed her wooden spoon and dolloped a splodge of chocolate onto his nose. Then she plonked his bandana back onto his head and ducked away quickly, before he could mount a revenge attack. ‘Now please keep your clothes on in my kitchen.’
