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The cool breeze brushes against our skin, and she snuggles even closer to me. Resting against me, she lets out a contented sigh. Eventually, the tractor returns us to the unloading area, and I’m sad it’s over. We stand and jump off, and we’re each handed a candy apple wrapped in cellophane.
“Thank you!” Gemma tells the lady and immediately digs in. Though I’m not into sugar like that, I join her. We eat our sticky food and notice scarecrows are strategically placed throughout town. Each one is hosted by a business. “Did Everleigh decorate one of these things?” I ask.
Gemma shrugs. “I dunno. She didn’t mention it, but considering she goes all out, I wouldn’t be surprised. Dad donated one but let the neighborhood kids decorate it. I’ll have to find it and take a picture for him. It was a fundraiser for the local food bank or something.”
Spooky music plays throughout the square, and after we’ve finished our apples, we stop for some hot cider to take the chill away. I glance over at Gemma as she grips her cup, and her gaze meets mine. A wave of heat rushes through me, and I swallow hard.
Our afternoon has been full of unspoken words and stolen glances, and I don’t want it to end. As I study her, there’s not a doubt in my body about returning to Lawton Ridge. I’m just so damn grateful she’s giving me another chance.
“Let’s paint a pumpkin,” I suggest as we pass a makeshift pumpkin patch. Brushes and paint are set out for those who want to decorate it here. Gemma nearly squeals, then gives me a look. “My painting skills suck, but we’ll make a Picasso pumpkin if you want.”
The rows are long with at least three hundred pumpkins of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Children rush past us, and Gemma smiles sweetly at them.
“What?” I ask her as we knock on a few.
“I can’t wait to bring my kids here,” she admits with a blush to her cheeks. “Not that I’m ready to have kids right now, but I’m not getting any younger.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I think you’ll make a great mom, Gemma. You have a big heart and care.”
“Do you want children?” she asks. It’s not something we’ve discussed. When we were younger, we were too busy living between the sheets and in the moment to be talking about our future.
“If I found the right woman,” I say. “I’ve thought about it a few times, but considering my childhood wasn’t the greatest, I’m wary about bringing kids into this world.”
She swallows watching me. “Would you have kids with me?”
I wrap my arms around her waist until I can feel the warmth of her skin against mine. “Without a doubt.”
Her gaze seems to pierce through me, and her expression softens. “How about this one?” she eventually says, quickly changing the subject.
“It’s great.” I lift the pumpkin, not realizing how damn heavy it is, but I should’ve, considering he’s the daddy of the whole patch. I set it down by the decorating supplies with an oof. “I swear he weighs seventy-five pounds.”
She snickers. “He? Are we naming him?”
I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, let’s call him Big Daddy.”
“I honestly just wanted to see if you could lift it. And you did.” Her smile touches her eyes.
“You are so wrong for that,” I tell her, grabbing a brush and squirting different colors of paint on a paper plate. We both sit cross-legged and look at the giant orange pumpkin.
“What if you decorate one side, and I do the other?” I suggest.
Gemma laughs. “Deal!”
We get to work on our masterpieces. There’s enough space for me to put what I want, and I can’t wait for Gemma to see. When I glance up at her, she’s deep in thought, and I chuckle, trying to imagine what she’s creating over there. If it’s anything like her canvas, I’m taking this pumpkin home and displaying it right next to the front door. Once I’m finished, I sit patiently and wait for her to finish. She claps her hands together and brings her knees close to her chest.
“Are you ready for me to see?” I ask, and she covers her face with her hands.
“I guess!” she excitedly says, and I crawl close to her. When I look at what she’s drawn, I’m at a loss to what it is.
“Do you see it?” She’s smiling wide, and I nod.
“It’s a…” I try to figure it out quickly but fail miserably.
“It’s a spider!” Gemma reaches over and tries to tickle me, and the next thing I know, I’m leaned over, pushing her back against the grass, and kissing her. Her palm rests on my cheek, and her warm, ragged breaths brush against my lips as I devour her. We’re lost in a moment of time as the sounds of children fill the background along with music in the distance. Our tongues twist and dance, and the only thing that stops us is a clearing of a throat.
