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As the day cooled with the rapid approach of evening, and the sky became streaked with glorious colours of pinks, orange and gold, you had managed to sneak away from the watchful and icy eye of Miss Grimshaw.
You tucked yourself behind one of the wagons, with a magazine that Karen had “borrowed” from a hotel she had been scoping out. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a mix of fashion, gossip from Saint Denis and a few of the latest and greatest kitchen gadgets tucked away at the back. But this was the part that had caught your eye, considering you had once worked as a kitchen maid in a well-to-do house in New York. Your employers had been able to afford all the pricey knick-knacks they could dream of! You could only gaze at them, Cook was adamant you couldn’t touch them.
You occasionally glanced up to make sure Miss Grimshaw wasn’t going to badger you into doing more chores, though with the fading light usually that meant she wouldn’t insist on more sewing. But you had heard enough times about how there were a multiple of things you could be doing in the evening, rather than just reading.
‘Ices of all sorts. Chocolate, Vanilla, Raspberry, Lemon! The delicious world of Ice Cream and Iced Confectionary at your fingertips!’ The ad promised.
‘Whatcha got there?’
You jumped, pulling the magazine to your chest and then finally managed to calm yourself enough to look up at Arthur, his thumbs tucked into his belt, and his blue-green eyes watching you carefully.
‘Sorry, didn’ mean to startle ya,’ he said.
‘It’s fine, just thought you were Grimshaw.’
He chuckled at that, ‘You sure you know what Grimshaw sounds like?’
You felt a warm rush of heat on your cheeks, then turned the magazine round to show him, ‘It’s just an advert for an ice cream machine. I just… wanted a break and didn’t want Grimshaw nagging me. It’s a bucket of ice, and you put the tub into the bucket, and turn the handle and it makes ice cream real fast. We used to have one back at the house I used to work at… and I got to try the ice cream sometimes, if Cook was feeling nice,’ You gabbled.
He nodded slowly, then pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Oh God, why had you whittered on like that? Why would Arthur Morgan of all people be interested in an ice cream machine? He wasn’t interested in that and he certainly wasn’t interested in where you had worked before. And by extension he wasn’t interested in you.
You always felt flustered and overwhelmed when Arthur spoke to you, something that Karen, Mary-Beth and Tilly had teased you about on enough occasions. They had all noticed your mooning over the handsome man, though fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it) the man himself seemed to be oblivious.
Arthur smiled softly, lighting the cigarette, before sitting down next to you and taking a proper look at the magazine. If your heart hadn’t been racing before it certainly was now, you wished his proximity to you wouldn’t leave you so hot and bothered.
But it felt impossible not to notice his firm jaw and the smattering of stubble that ran over his cheeks, the broadness of his shoulders and the dark blonde hair that ran down his neck. Even when he held a cigarette in between his fingers, your mind couldn’t help wondering what those fingers would feel like if they held your thighs or gripped tightly onto your hips.
‘So you plannin’ on making ice cream for everyone here?’ Arthur asked.
You laughed lightly, desperately trying to ignore the flush that crept up your neck and cheeks. ‘I’d need cream and sugar, and a lot of ice, not sure if I can get those things when visiting the Rhodes general store.’
He hummed in agreement. ‘Think you’d have a fight on your hand with Susan and Abigail too, if they got the chance to have cream in their coffee.’
‘Still, you get me all of those things and maybe some raspberries on your travels, and I’ll make you ice cream.’
‘Ice might be melted by the time I get it to yer, but I’ll do my best.’
A few days later when he brought you a clean handkerchief filled with raspberries, a couple crushed against the white material leaving pink blotches of colour, Tilly and Karen raised their eye brows. You were too busy admiring how they had made the journey mostly intact, considering the fights and near misses Arthur got himself into! And then you also felt incredibly touched that Arthur had even remembered the conversation.
‘So, it’s getting serious then?’ Tilly joked.
You rolled your eyes and popped one in your mouth. ‘It’s just raspberries.’
‘That’s what they all say!’ Karen grinned.