I’m still smiling when we get out of the car.My dread has been replaced with excitement, not just that we’re going pumpkin picking—is that a thing?—but that he knows me.I mean, of course heknowsme, but this is… thoughtful.He had to really think about me to come up with this.
Jonathan offers me his hand, and I take it, still beaming.I lead us over to the metal wagons and pull one behind us as we follow the painted signs to the pumpkin patch.
We stroll down the aisles, inspecting the pumpkins.Jonathan places an oval-shaped one in the wagon within a few minutes.I’m a little more discerning.“How many are you going to get?”
“Wh-what?How many?”
I realize that he only intends to get one.“One is perfect,” I correct.I usually carve enough to line our front steps.But eight pumpkins on our first date will probably be overkill.Maybe I’ll ask the girls to carve some when I stay over at Livvy’s.They’re creative… in their own way.
I examine pumpkin after pumpkin.Looking for the one with just the right roundness.But not too round so that it’s challenging to design.Big, but not too big.Orange with maybe a touch of green for contrast.
Jonathan waits patiently by the wagon.I glance at him, biting at my lip.He probably thinks I’m being ridiculous.“Sorry.”
“I could watch you all day.”He smiles.“And I’m being serious.You’re so fricken cute right now.”
I blush.
Stepping with care down the next row, I stumble across the perfect pumpkin.Literally.Almost sprawling across the entire patch.Catching myself, I return to it, pretending nothing happened—except I can hear Jonathan clear his throat to conceal a laugh.The pumpkin that chose me, as I’m preferring to see it, even has curls of green sprouting from its stem.I hoist it into the wagon, shrugging off Jonathan’s one-armed attempt to assist me.
“I’m stronger than you think.”
“Never doubted it.”He kisses my cheek and takes hold of the wagon handle to pull it after him.My face couldn’t get any hotter.I probably look feverish, all shiny and red.
We select a pumpkin pie in the store when we pay for the pumpkins.I’m pretty sure Magda has whipped cream in the fridge.Jonathan swears he’s never tasted pumpkin pie before, which I honestly can’t believe.
“Where were you raised?I mean, it’s like being from Georgia and never eating peach pie.”
“Guess my parents don’t like it or something.I never really questioned it.”
“I’m about to change your life,” I declare, loading the pumpkins into the trunk.
“Promise?”He produces a wicked grin.I’m pretty sure he’s not talking about pie.I scoff, unable to take him seriously.I’m not used to this flirty side of Jonathan Reeves.He still sounds too playful, like he’s teasing me.Teasing feels more like us.
He lets out an amused laugh and crowds in on me until my butt hits the trunk I just closed.“You think I’m kidding?”I stare up at him, speechless.He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him.I gasp, pressing my hands to his chest.His lips brush my ear.“Don’t underestimate the power you have over me, Sadie Prescott.”
Right now, he is fully in control.Especially when I can barely stand on my own.I swallow and find my legs again, spinning out of his hold.“I can’t take you seriously.I’m not used to… this… you.It’s kinda messing with my head.”
Jonathan laughs.“I’m still me.I’m just finally saying everything I’ve been thinking most of our lives.”
Magda has left us alonein her beloved kitchen to gut and carve our pumpkins.Music plays in the background—my selection—as we cover the newspapers on the counters with pumpkin innards.My hair keeps getting in my way as I concentrate on tracing the perfect design on my perfectly shaped pumpkin.I push it away with the back of my hand, but it’s no use; it’s determined to cling to my cheeks and lips.
I glance at Jonathan’s oval-shaped pumpkin, but he hasn’t touched it other than to clean it out.He’s watching me.
“What?Do you hate it?”I ask, leaning back to consider the intricate scrolls and curlicues.“Do you think it’s too much?”
But he’s not looking at the pumpkin.His eyes are on me.
“Do I have something on my face?”I know I do.I can feel the sticky pumpkin on my cheek, which is probably what’s glued my hair to my face.
“You do.”He brushes my hair over my shoulder and touches the spot on my cheek.“A little something right here.”
The intensity of his stare keeps words from forming.And thoughts too, apparently.Because I take a scoop of the innards and smear them across my face.“What about now?”
Jonathan leans back and laughs.His voice booming in the room.I smile.
“Did you know pumpkin guts does wonders for the complexion?”
He grips the back of my neck and presses his lips to mine without hesitation.Instead of the passioned, frenzied,hurry before we get caughtkiss we always have, this one suspends time.It is slow.His lips glide over mine like they’re getting to know every inch.Every line and curve.I expect his tongue to follow, but it doesn’t.He pulls away just to connect at a different angle.Another point of discovery.His breath’s a whisper over my lips.I slide my hands up his neck, afraid it’ll end before I’m ready.But he’s in no rush.
