Page 35 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch

‘You grate the spices; I’ll stir the chocolate.’

Zain took the grater and did as Rosie had suggested, starting with the cinnamon sticks.

The two of them were in Agnes’s back kitchen, making pumpkin-spiced chocolates for their retreat launch party, which was just a couple of days away – although, thankfully, the weekend retreats didn’t start until a week after that.

Rosie was dizzy enough with nerves at the thought of hosting this huge do.

She had to keep reminding herself that she didn’t hate parties, she’d just been to a lot that weren’t her cup of tea.

Surely hosting would be better – and this one was for an extremely important cause.

She focused on Zain’s hands as he worked swiftly with the spices, taking care not to break them or grate his knuckles.

He looked up at her. ‘Shouldn’t you be stirring? Or am I distracting you with my impressively large stick?’ He waved the cinnamon at her.

His lips were teasing into the smallest smile, even though she could see he was trying for a poker face. It wasn’t her fault he had such mesmerising kitchen skills – among other things. She tried not to remember that night in the treehouse, now that getting naked with him was apparently off limits.

‘I was looking at your apron, actually,’ she replied, hoping to draw attention away from her cheeks, which she could sense were darkening like a pair of Baby Red Hubbards. ‘I hadn’t realised you’d been officially crowned The Queen of Cat Snacks .’

Zain was wearing one of Agnes’s novelty aprons, which looked more like a postage stamp against his broad shoulders and chest. It had a picture of a cat’s head poking out of the front pocket, and a swishy tail that even Steve would have been proud of.

‘The chocolate?’ he repeated calmly, one eyebrow rising to match his half-smile.

In truth, his cool sense of direction had kept her going, over the last week or so, as they’d worked together to bring their opening event plans to life.

Zain had been great at seeing the bigger picture and turning her inspired ideas into some sort of strategy, and she’d enjoyed coming up with the thoughtful stuff , as Zain called it.

The little details that she hoped would make their guests feel cared for and special.

By popular demand from Mags, the chocolates were making an appearance in the launch party gift bags.

Zain was so unrufflable that she lived in a constant temptation to reach out and ruffle him. And the more time they spent together...

‘Right yes, the chocolate.’ She’d better get on with it before he needed to remind her for a third time.

‘My scatty head.’ She busied herself with breaking off chunks of dark chocolate and dropping them into a glass bowl, ready for melting.

She was using a simple recipe she’d learned from one of her mum’s staff.

Rosie might never have been much of a partygoer, but she had enjoyed being behind the scenes making sure everything was just right.

She and Zain had worked together to scrub up the back kitchen the previous week, ready for the catering.

She loved being near him, even if it was only doing something dull, like attacking grubby cupboards with a sponge.

As strange as it was, she was sure he felt that too, though he’d been fighting it.

She looked at him, smiling to himself as he worked. Was he nearly out of fight?

In the spirit of teamwork, they’d even arranged for Agnes to have internet installed at the house, because it wasn’t practical to run online bookings and enquiries by constantly nipping offsite.

Rosie’s laptop sat on a table in the corner of the room so they could keep an eye on the auction for exclusive tickets to dine at their opening night.

With a bit of persuasion, Rosie had managed to get local chef Lukas Knight and his team to donate their time to cook for the guests who would be dining on and around the lake.

His proposed menu had mouths watering and people bidding for tickets already, and Bonnie had even agreed to become their official supplier of pumpkin fizz.

When Rosie had visited the nearby village of Mistleton to talk to Lukas, she’d ended up with even more generosity than she’d bargained for.

Some of the shop owners had offered gifts and services to be auctioned on the night, to help to boost funds for Agnes’s roof.

As Rosie began melting the chocolate, she felt Zain’s presence behind her, his head peering over her shoulder. His body was close and warm, and she couldn’t tell whether it was the steam from her bowl that was sending her into a flush, or him.

‘Mmmmmmmm.’

There was a depth to Zain’s groan that made her want to liquify too.

He was breathing in the smell of the rich, dark chocolate, and as Rosie turned her head a touch to look at him, she could see his eyes were closed, his thick eyelashes fluttering gently against his cheeks.

It reminded her of watching him sleep, that night they’d spent together.

Peaceful and unguarded, even if the next morning had been a confusing far cry from that.

But still, the urge to lean in and feel her lips against his skin again was almost uncontrollable. Like nothing she’d ever felt.

His hair was tucked perfectly inside a bandana, which only accentuated his solid features. His skin was so velvety, and...

Her nose twitched. Hang on. What was that odd smell?

Her head swung back quickly to her stirring. ‘Oh crap. It’s nearly burning.’ She pulled the pan off the heat and tried to grab the glass bowl without thinking, scalding the pads of her fingers. ‘Ouch!’

Where was an oven glove when she needed one?

As she flapped around looking for it, Zain cranked the cold tap onto full blast and pulled her hands underneath it.

The relief was almost as instant as the universe’s stark warning.

She exhaled sharply. If she didn’t want their plans to go up in smoke, she had to stay in control of things.

And that included errant thoughts about Zain. Didn’t it?

‘Thank you.’ Rosie tugged her hands back and turned off the tap. ‘It’s fine. Just a blip. Do you want to get back to the spices?’

‘Yep. Sorry. My fault for putting you off your stride. I couldn’t help myself. Smelling the chocolate, I mean.’ He moved back to his workspace.

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?’