‘So you want them to gossip about us?’ I shift the flowers to my other arm so I can still hold the notebook and pen when Fiona’s finished her chat.

‘People are going to gossip about us no matter what we do. If a feminine-looking pigeon comes in twice, Fiona thinks it wants to ask me on a date and Fergus starts asking around for bird-friendly restaurants.’

It makes me laugh again. ‘Will you stop being so funny?’

He grins. ‘Ah, let ‘em talk. You’re way out of my league. I’m honoured if they think you’d look twice at me.’

I don’t hide the double-take. ‘Are you jok—’

Of course, Fiona chooses that moment to finish her conversation and point out the location of another tree. I hastily mark it on my scribbled map of the market, but she’s already hurried onwards and we both rush to follow her. It stops me thinking about what he’s just said and how he could possibly think that. He’s literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. His shoulder-length dark hair is ridiculously sexy, soft and touchable but just scruffy enough to look rugged and handsome as well, blue eyes that look closer to green when he’s outdoors, with the dark shadows of a thousand early mornings that make it look like he’s wearing natural eyeliner, that lip piercing nestled in the deep dip of his Cupid’s bow that I can still barely tear my eyes away from. More importantly than any of that, he’s hilarious and kind. He’s literally the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met. He’s been popping over to help fix remaining things in the house and we’ve been working on the caravan together. He’s even managed to get a pane of double-glazing from somewhere and replace the kitchen window. How he could think anyone was out of his league is beyond me. Even the Queen would be lucky to have him. If she was into dating 38-year-old Scottish pumpkin farmers. She’s probably not.

It’s early November now, and Halloween passed in a blur of carving pumpkins, helping kids craft their own scary masks at a workstation outside Roscoe Farm, and watching Noel chase people around the maize maze while dressed as a scarecrow.

Admittedly, the sexiest scarecrow ever. Including Fiyero from Wicked. And he takes some beating in the sexy scarecrow stakes.

‘Do you have decorations for all these trees?’ I ask as we complete a full circle of the market and return to the pumpkin stall, where Fergus has moved onto dipping a gingerbread piano into his marmalade.