Page 69 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch
‘Erm. I’m sure everything will be fine.’ Rosie tried a bright smile, even though her face and fighting spirit were cracking.
And then Rosie heard the whispers begin.They haven’t raised enough. Has it been an enormous waste of time? What will become of the place?
Rosie dared to look at Zain, whose brain seemed to be ticking under his creased forehead.
He grabbed the microphone. ‘We have one more lot.’
Did they?
But before Rosie could work out what was going on, Zain was offering places on an Autumn Meadows Farm writing retreat, which would be run by none other than her, as theirexpert writer in residence.Which she wasnot. She let out a yelp and tried to yank the microphone from him. After tonight, she wouldn’t even be living here. And she may have devoured many writing books and been on a few courses in her time, but she wasn’t ready to run actual writing retreats. Here. In just two weeks’ time.Was she?
Yet every time Rosie darted towards him, he dodged her. She was acutely aware that it looked like she was chasing him, which she absolutely wasn’t. Though it was too late, because he was on a roll. People were already bidding wild prices, and he was gleefully accepting offers.
‘What are you playing at?’ she hissed.
‘Helping you to raise money. And it was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To run writing retreats?’
Rosie thought her head might explode. ‘I don’t need you to save me. And you have no idea what I want.’ She kept her voice low, but it wasn’t any less loaded. He was infuriating. Dangling the carrot of the thing she’d once dreamed of, before things had gone so horribly wrong.
Though like a steam train, she couldn’t stop him. And the farm did need the money, so she’d have to put up with his nonsense and work out a plan later on.
And if she couldn’t beat him, she was damned well going to join him. When he’d finished selling her services without permission, she reciprocated thefavour.
‘And for our next fantastic offer, who would like day tickets to come and pick your own pumpkins with our resident pumpkin farmer, Zain, on his Prizewinner pumpkin patch – complete with hayrides and a chance to help with the October harvest? He’ll even show you his speciality pumpkins. Happening here, from next week. Shall we start the bidding?’
As he gave her an incredulous, wide-mouthed ‘what?!’ she winked at him.
‘Well, you did say you needed help with the harvest, and that you knew your farming efforts were pointless if your pumpkins went to rot. Don’t worry, if you get stuck for words, your chatbot can script something.’
As the audience seemed to sense theall hands on decksituation, something even more unexpected happened. People from the audience began filling their previously emptied auction table with extra things to sell.
By the time tickets for Zain’s pumpkin patch experiences had been snapped up, Rosie’s mum had placed down her latest designer watch. Mags brought up her hurdy-gurdy, insisting she had a collection at home. Then Bonnie offered herself out on a wine and dine date, the lucky bidder thankfully being the sweetly behaved man she’d been chatting to.
When Rosie’s beige peacoat finally sold for twice as much as she’d paid for the thing, she looked at the total in her notebook and let out an embarrassing squeak.
‘We’ve done it!’
With the additional auction lots, they’d reached their target, and more.
She heard Zain yell in joy at her side, and without thinking, she threw her arms around him. By some magnetic, uninvited force, their lips pulled together in a kiss.
Beyond the rush of blood to her head and the pounding in her heart, Rosie was vaguely aware of the crowd cheering, the bright stage light still on them. She could sense cameras snapping and phone screens flashing, and she quickly pulled away.
They both mumbled their apologies and darted off in different directions, Rosie’s lips definitely not still burning with the imprint of his kiss.
‘That’s exciting,’ said Agnes, appearing from who knew where.
‘What?’ said Rosie, her hands flying to her now colouring cheeks.
‘That thing about your writing retreats, of course. I had no idea you could write as well as paint. And if you don’t want to do any moresex lifewith Zain, you can always stay with me in the big house. The ground floor is safe now, so I’ll sleep there tonight. And we’ll soon have a brand-new roof. You could have your own space, now you’re ourwriter in residence. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, over a nice cup of tea.’
Rosie smiled and gave a non-committalhmm, then busied herself with packing away.
44
Would it be rash of her to rush off that night? Everything was peaceful again now they’d cleared away after the launch party. Most of the guests had gone, it was late, and Rosie was exhausted. And shehadpromised herself she would stay just one more night – or maybe two. If she slept in her cabin now, that would make it two, which wouldn’t be breaking any promises.
There was also a small, nagging part of her that wanted to consider her options, before making any more wild decisions. Agnes’s suggestion to stay had been tempting, and if Zain was planning to rat on her, he’d surely have done it by now. If she lived at the farmhouse and ran her own writing retreats, she’d barely have to see Zain. And perhaps she could even explain the awkwardRachelmistake to Agnes, now she’d proved she could do the job.
