Page 13 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch

‘Should be me checking whether I can trust you,’ Rosie heard Zain huff as they reached the door of his hut and he kicked it open, cradling her chilly body against him, still wrapped in a soaking towel. ‘You’re the one who creeps up on naked people in showers.’

She tried her best to hide her smile at the thought. At least she didn’t have to conceal the mental images his words had just created. That beautiful, tattooed skin, the ripple of muscles...

‘Still not sure you should be coming in here,’ he said.

With her head against his torso, every word he spoke rumbled through her.

‘You make it sound excitingly d-dangerous.’ Her jaw was still shivering. Why did she suddenly like that idea? Hadn’t she had enough risky encounters for one morning?

He raised his eyebrows at her like she was the strangest creature, stepped over the threshold, and kicked the door shut behind them.

After the surprising cold of the lake, the warmth of Zain’s hut was like a huge great hug.

She couldn’t see much, with her head nestled into his firm chest, but with the heat and the smell of burnt wood and smokiness, she guessed he’d been using his log burner.

There was something magical about that scent.

Homeliness mixed with the wild outdoors, with a hint of perilous possibility. She smiled into his torso.

‘You OK?’ He was looking at her as though she’d gone a bit delirious.

She wasn’t sure if that much was true. But something had changed when she’d jumped into that water. She’d found a cause to fight for. Of course, Zain had done his fair share of the rescuing. But it was OK for heroes and heroines to take turns in saving each other.

And since she’d emerged, every inch of her tingled. Her skin throbbed, her heart was racing and each one of her senses felt magnified. Though maybe some of that change had begun the moment she’d first seen Zain.

She looked up at him. She was fantasising and she knew it.

He was a burly grump who didn’t want her anywhere near his patch, and she was a recently dumped homeless impostor who needed to sort out her life and stop ogling strangers.

Yes, he made the perfect muse. But when you got to know the bare reality of people, the magic soon disappeared.

If Zain was going to inspire her to write, she needed him to stay magical.

And if she was going to keep juggling her precarious secrets without dropping any balls, she couldn’t get too friendly.

She could absolutely keep her distance.

‘We should take our clothes off.’

He said it so matter-of-factly that Rosie heard herself splutter.

Zain exhaled as though he knew he hadn’t phrased that well. ‘You’re half freezing. This towel’s making you colder. I’m leaving a wet puddle on the floor. I’m not suggesting anything creepy. Just survival.’

‘Oh.’ She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice, because of course it was better that he wasn’t suggesting naked antics. If he was, she’d poke him in the eye and scream the hut down. Probably.

He moved to the bed and dumped her down unceremoniously, whipping the wet towel from around her and throwing a nearby blanket over her body.

‘The bed’s clean,’ he said, with an edge that suggested he didn’t like to be judged.

And his still-warm sheets did smell good.

Somewhere between that cedar scent she’d smelt on him during the nude shower incident and a fresh linen fragrance that made her wonder if he was a little less feral than she’d assumed.

Was a wild-looking man with a penchant for cleanliness even more appealing?

He scratched the back of his neck and looked away.

‘You should probably get out of that costume. Do it under the blanket. I’ve got better things to do than look at you.

I need to take this off.’ He pointed to his dripping clothes, which clung to his body, making him look all parts statuesque farm god.

And that was definitely her writer head getting carried away with things.

‘Then I’ll find you something dry.’ He looked around the hut, seeming to realise that with everything open plan, taking his clothes off was a no privacy situation.

His glance flitted to the window. ‘That swimming lot will be here any minute. I can’t strip off out there without them rubbernecking like a bunch of synthetic chickens. ’

‘Promise not to cluck at you,’ she said sagely. She wasn’t quite sure why she was crossing her fingers under the blanket, because she could surely manage to keep her eyes to herself for two minutes. And if she accidentally caught a glimpse... well, she’d seen it before.

He moved to the other end of the hut, peeling off his jumper as he walked, barely giving Rosie time to look away.

That back. Every part of it rippled with the motion of him easing his clothes over his head, like he was water itself.

Did he use the lake to swim much between all that pumpkin prodding, she wondered?

And why was she still staring? The black ink markings that decorated him were mesmerising.

Twisting patterns interwoven with dark vines, and creatures she couldn’t quite make out.

‘Just research,’ she muttered to herself, as she tore her eyes away and began pulling off her swimming costume under the warmth of the knitted blanket.

It felt soft against her as it touched her bare, goose-bumped skin.

Almost sensual. She shook her head. She was not going to get all kinky about a blanket. What was happening to her today?

Rosie tried to stifle a laugh. She sensed Zain’s head shoot around, then turn away again.

‘I wasn’t looking,’ he said quickly.

She was safely hidden under the blanket anyway.

But now his movement had caught her eye again, she could see there was nothing hidden about him.

The bottom half of his clothes were on the floor, leaving his rear view deliciously naked.

When did she become the sort of person who described nude men as delicious? She really should stop.

Rosie looked away. They’d promised each other privacy, and she was going to respect that, like the decent human being she was. She’d be outraged if he’d been trying to spy on her.

She heard him move across the floor and open a cupboard. From her peripheral ‘definitely not gawping’ view she could tell he was grabbing out clothes and pulling them on.

‘You decent?’ he asked.

Apart from the places her mind was wandering to. ‘Yes.’ She gulped.

He turned to face her, and she turned her head too. Their eyes locked. Just for a moment. His beautifully dark – even darker than her own. Something seemed to fizz across the cabin between them. An energy. A connection amid the chaos.

He took a few steps forward and threw a pile of clothes towards her feet.

OK, maybe she’d imagined the connection bit. And her eyes were not a pair of Barratt’s Refreshers – there was absolutely no fizz.

‘You should get some clothes on.’ Did his gaze just sweep over the shape of her? He cleared his throat. ‘People are going to be arriving. I forbid you to get back into that water today. Or maybe ever. But if you’re here to oversee the wild swimming, however temporarily, you’d better show up.’

She exhaled a long breath, wondering if he’d been the noise in the bushes, while she’d been confiding in Steve the cat. How much had he heard and was he the type to tell tales?

‘I’m going to look for Steve. He’s probably still cold and confused after his dip in the lake.’ His eyes scanned the room. ‘Don’t touch anything. I don’t usually let people in here.’

‘Is the cat yours, or one of Agnes’s strays? He’s... cute.’

He narrowed his eyes at her, like her question was overstepping. As if being completely unclothed in his man-hut wasn’t already quite familiar.

‘Cats don’t belong to anyone.’ His gaze flitted to the cat bed which Rosie now noticed by the fire, not far from two bowls, which presumably weren’t for humans to eat their beans on toast from.

‘One minute,’ he said, by way of warning.

He pulled on a dry pair of boots and left the hut, banging the door behind him.

So he didn’t let people in here. She guessed that meant he didn’t have a girlfriend, unless he was a strictly outdoors type of guy. Her eyes widened. Maybe that was a thought for her romantic novel – with or without the outdoor shower.

And what was it he was so keen for her not to snoop at?

He’d said don’t touch anything, but looking from a polite distance was surely fair game?

She let her gaze drift around the hut. It was similar to hers, but with fewer fairy lights and a lot of weird-shaped pumpkins.

Unlike the ones in Agnes’s kitchen, they weren’t randomly strewn.

His were arranged on shelves, some in size order, and others grouped in shades.

There were jars and jars of carefully labelled seeds too, and a big stack of books that she couldn’t quite see the spines of.

She cocked her head, wondering where his fascination came from.

Then her eyes landed on something even curiouser.

A collection of tiny wooden houses that lined the hut along one wall.

Some were tent-shaped with holes in the front instead of doors, and others looked like little houses with grooved panels underneath for something to use to climb in. Was he living with gnomes?

Before she could fathom it, Zain was back, with Steve under his arm.

‘Cat’s fine,’ he said. ‘Just needs a dry-off and a clean coat. But your people are here. You going to get some clothes on and try to convince them you belong? Or are you getting out of here before you cause any mayhem ?’

The pointed look he gave her told her he had overheard at least the tail end of her heart-to-heart with Steve. Her stomach dropped. Was she at even more risk of getting turfed out now, when she’d only just decided that she wanted to stay?

As though sensing her thoughts, he blew out a breath.

‘Look, I’m in no rush to grass you up. You’re a pain in the arse, and you make some remarkably stupid decisions for someone who’s not a complete numbskull.

’ He nodded down at Steve. ‘But you saved this little guy’s life.

And if you’re planning to leave soon, I don’t need to completely ruin yours.

’ His eyes held a warning, even if she had no idea how to interpret it.

‘As long as you stick to your lake and steer clear of my pumpkin patches and polytunnels, we can agree not to murder each other. For now. ’

She nodded. Though knowing she couldn’t really promise that, perhaps murder would end up on the menu. ‘Thank you. And thanks for jumping in after both of us too.’

He shrugged. ‘Anyway, looks like you’ll have enough on your plate with this lot.’ He tipped his head towards the window. ‘They’re waiting for you.’

Rosie gave a few rapid blinks. Part of her wanted to hide in a cupboard or call in sick, or head for the hills in search of the person called Rachel, who’d been meant to apply for this job.

But a bigger part of her felt her shoulders straightening.

Because she was becoming a woman who took action – even if she wasn’t sure whether it was outlandishly absurd. ‘Well then. I’d better get on.’

Rosie made a grab for the spare clothes Zain had chucked onto the bed. She had no idea what she was doing, but she had an intriguing new role to play. She just hoped she could fake it until she could make it.