Page 29 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch

Other than the odd hiccup over missing toilet roll, or retreaters getting lost in the autumn meadows, the first practice retreat day played out perfectly.

Even the weather was smiling on them. They’d helped Zain with a spot of early pumpkin harvesting.

They’d refuelled on a picnic of roast pumpkin lasagne and an autumn salad that Rosie had thrown together.

Zain had even let them carve a few pumpkins and paint faces on them, although Rosie was sure she’d seen him wincing.

Now they were building a campfire, where they’d cook the pumpkin flatbreads they’d made, to eat with their butternut squash risotto.

‘Watch your feet,’ Zain said to Mags, as he dropped an armful of firewood near where she was sitting, barefoot and waiting to toast her toes against a fire that wasn’t yet ready.

‘Will do,’ Mags mumbled, through a mouthful of Rosie’s home-made chocolates.

What Rosie liked best about her new group of friends was that their rebellious differences gave Rosie permission to be herself too. And they didn’t nag on about her choice of boyfriends.

She took in the scene, knowing she had mud on her knees and twigs in her hair.

Her nails bore no sign that she’d ever had a manicure and the only thing on her face was a smattering of seasonal freckles.

And she felt happy . No, it was more than that.

She breathed it in, trying to find words to describe it so she could write about it later.

She felt full . Not in a too many chocolates way, though she had sneaked more than a few.

But full to the brim with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Like sparkly joy dancing with a peaceful knowing, and a spirit so grateful it might burst.

Then there was Zain. Her gaze was drawn back to him looking all parts romantic hero, hulking firewood and swiping moisture from his brow.

Who knew scenes this flawless could exist in real life?

And that falling for someone had little to do with being head over heels, and everything to do with her tumbling heart.

She couldn’t wait to be closer to him tonight.

Would it be their night? Because right then, everything felt just perfect .

‘You all right, love?’ asked Bonnie, arriving at her side and giving her back a rub with the one hand that was free from sticks.

It was only then that Rosie noticed her eyes were welling up. She was so full that she needed to overflow. If she’d been living her life on the sidelines before, then at last she was truly part of something.

She smiled at her own silliness and wiped her face with her sleeve. ‘I’m fine, honestly. Just having a moment. A joyful one.’

In her old life, Rosie would have passed off the tears as a mascara malfunction.

She was coming to see that real friends weren’t people you needed to put on a brave, powdered face in front of or buy cakes for every Monday, even when it was surely their turn.

They were people who you could have a moment in front of, without judgement.

‘I’m not surprised you’re emotional,’ said Zain, arriving at their side. ‘Look at everything you’ve brought to life.’

Rosie nodded. As a writer, she created whole, imaginary worlds. She’d just taken the next step and helped to build something real. She was beginning to prove that she wasn’t just a dreamer who floated through life with her blinkers on.

‘You’re a natural,’ said Mags. ‘I’ve been spoiled, right down to my very toes.’ She gave them a wriggle.

She took a deep breath and allowed herself to say, ‘Thank you.’

Before she knew it, everyone had pulled together to build the campfire. And then pumpkins were sizzling, more of Bonnie’s elderflower wine was flowing, and Rosie was learning how to pan-fry her first flatbread.

When it was time to toast the marshmallows she’d made with Zain the day before, Rosie made her excuses and moved to be next to him.

She’d spent all evening catching his eye over the flicker of flames, feeling giddy with possibilities every time they’d held each other’s gaze.

Even without the campfire, every inch of her would have been white hot.

Their relationship wasn’t secret, but they were on work time.

She couldn’t have spent the day fondling him, as much as she’d wanted to.

The almost forbidden nature of being near him was making her desire burn.

If he was still intending to sneak into her treehouse, she’d be the one melting like a marshmallow.

Rosie settled herself in next to Zain, no longer able to play hands off .

The look in his eyes as he moved his head to acknowledge her told her he felt it too.

She reached out to touch him, allowing her fingers to wrap around his as she took a marshmallow from him.

He was warm from the flames and sparks of something flew through her, like electricity lighting a torch.

From the twitch of his hand, she knew he was right there with her.

He’d been quiet tonight, but sometimes their chemistry spoke more than any words.

They speared her marshmallow onto a long toasting fork, watching as its softness resisted momentarily before giving in with a barely audible pop.

Rosie could feel her mouth watering. Their hands intertwined, they guided the fork towards a patch of orange embers, spinning it gently while its edges bubbled and crisped.

Of course, she could have worked out the perfect toasting method for herself.

Or she could have joined in with Mags and Bonnie’s marshmallow-eating contest, or Ellen’s game of setting hers on fire and using it to write her name in the sky.

Goodness knew, Rosie wanted to sear the darkness with a million looping hearts.

Though there was nothing stronger than her ache to be close to Zain.

Chatter carried on around them, Rosie being only fuzzily aware.

The fire crackled and smoked, and there were definitely stars overhead, if only she could tear her eyes away to look at them.

Mags pulled out her hurdy-gurdy contraption and played something that made Rosie want to sway.

Arms swished in the night air, and Luna and Ellen were telling Mags to start a band.

Rosie and Zain moved away from the fire, letting their limbs wrap around each other as they began to dance.

The music had a pull that made Rosie feel powerless.

And it was lucky for her that she trusted every part of Zain, because so did he.

He felt warm and solid against the midnight chill, their hips pressing into each other.

As their bodies swayed, his hands wove into her hair, drawing her face towards his, their mouths softening into a kiss she’d longed for all day.

His lips against hers. The marshmallow-sweetness of his tongue. It was almost too much to bear.

She pulled him behind a tree and crushed herself against him, guiding his mouth towards the nakedness of her neck. The sweep of his lips against her flesh made her groan.

‘I could stay here forever,’ she whispered into his hair as his tongue traced a trembling line along her collarbone. So much for keeping things professional. Right then she didn’t care.

‘For... ever ,’ he repeated back, the word almost getting stuck as his mouth found its way back to hers. It was thirsty work all this kissing. Maybe he needed more water too.

He stopped to look at her, his eyes seeming to be processing something.

‘Well, you know. Not necessarily against this knobbly tree. Maybe somewhere more comfortable. Later.’ She allowed her eyes to flick towards the treehouse where she was staying, knowing he’d already alluded to it. And so had the hotness of that kiss.

He ran a hand through his hair, but it got lodged against his bun and he pulled it away, a few black strands falling loose. His gaze travelled back to the campfire, where they could still hear singing and laughter, above the buzz of the hurdy-gurdy. Did the instrument sound almost melancholy now?

‘We should tidy up,’ said Zain, straightening himself. ‘We’re meant to be working. It’s getting late.’

‘Oh.’ Rosie straightened herself too, feeling the cold bite as Zain moved away. She pulled her clothes back into order, the warmth in her chest evaporating. ‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

Zain strode back to the others, moving silently around them as he cleared things away. Rosie followed suit.

At some point, perhaps when Rosie was busy talking, Zain disappeared into the night without saying goodbye.

Rosie had sensed it was coming, though she wasn’t sure why.

Had she said the wrong thing? Had he overheard something?

Perhaps if she was harbouring fewer half-truths about who she was, she wouldn’t feel so edgy.

She would tell him at some point, when they’d saved the land, and they could laugh about it all. But right then, it was too risky.

She wondered whether he’d be back later to climb up to her treehouse and into her bed, or whether he’d been spooked back into his cave.

Once they’d retired to their beds, Rosie couldn’t help keeping watch for him.

Hoping he would come yet preparing herself in case he didn’t.

Her eyes became heavy with tiredness, and she heaved a sigh and began tearing off her clothes, throwing them into the corner.

She pulled the blankets around her to keep the night chill from seeping through her underwear and into her bones.

Just as she could barely keep her eyelids open, there was a flash of something. She moved quickly to the treehouse window to look out. And there it was. Her light through the darkness. Steady, determined, coming boldly in her direction. Her spirits soared.

Then the light stopped near the dying embers of the campfire.

They illuminated Zain, in all his rugged glory.

He looked dishevelled, like he’d been trying to sleep but failing.

His hair was ruffled. His body seemed as restless as hers.

Had he only come back to check the flames were out or to pour water on them and watch them smoke?

He looked up towards her window, like an animal that sensed he was being watched.

Hot ash reflected in the darkness of his eyes.

A burning red that scorched through the night and landed firmly on her, pinning her, in a way that set her imagination on fire.

She let the duvet slip from her shoulders, showing him that underneath it, she was down to her bra.

If he wanted to see what was on the bottom half, he’d have to come up there.

She hoped the look on her face made the invite clear.