Page 45 of Fundamentals in Flirting

“Teddy Fraser?”

“Yes.”

“The same Teddy Fraser who you hated at school?”

“Yes.”

“TheTeddy Fraser you’ve been moaning about ever since he brought that cat in here the other day?”

“Yes.”

“TheTeddy Fraser who looks at you like he wants to cover you in whipped cream and eat you for dessert?”

“What?”

“The Teddy Fras?—”

“Er, thanks, Betsy, I think we’ve worked out who he is,” I said hastily, cutting her off in case she chose to provide any more of her insights in to how Teddy was or was not looking at me.

She sucked in a long breath over her teeth and put her hands on her hips.

“Oooh, I hope you know what you’re doing, girl.”

“I’m not doing anything other than eating dinner with him.”

It was twenty past six and my phone dinged from my back pocket.

Ted: Just checking we’re still on for dinner? Agnes is here and we’re hungry!

Hannah: Just hanging up my white coat. Be there in five.

Ted: Excellent. Looking forward to it.

Ted: By the way, I like your white coat. You’re like a sexy scientist in it.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the pleased feeling that was swirling in my chest. His unshakeable need to flirt with me was somehow helping to rebuild my self-confidence, one tiny brick at a time.

“From that look, I’m guessing that’s the man himself?” Betsy was studying me intently. I nodded. “Now I’m no expert in the male sex – I’ve been with Emily getting on for ten years now, and the last time I snogged a man, I was very, very drunk, and it was awful…” She pulled a face, which made me smile. “But I actually think, under all that blustering and swaggering and macho posturing he does, he’s actually pretty legit.”

“You do?”

“I do. But, Hannah, do you even like him?”

I thought about this and elected to keep the blossoming extent of my crush to myself. Betsy didn’t need to know what an idiot I was becoming over him. “We’ve met Agnes, an old lady who lives in the cottage next to The Rectory, and we’re having dinner with her. It’s not a date – don’t worry.”

It’snota date. Obviously.

And I would keep telling myself this over and over, this evening and every day henceforth.

“Mrs Timms? Oh she’s lovely, but can be a bit odd.” Betsy had picked up the dog food again.

“She seems to be struggling on her own. Do you know her well?”

“Not very. Giles deals with her goaty issues, but I know she’s pretty much a recluse.”

“I found her in the car park this morning when I came back from a call-out. She was very confused and disoriented.”

“Talk to Giles. He might know if she has family or not.” Betsy gave me a sympathetic smile then hiked her rucksack onto her shoulder and shifted the dog food onto her hip as she headed for the door. “Showing concern for others is definitely a non-prickly thing, just so you know, practically normal, non-sociopathic behaviour.”

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