Page 61 of Fundamentals in Flirting

“Sort of. I suggested that his face and conversational ability needed some work, and that maybe you could help him.”

Teddy stopped, now snorting with laughter. “You really said that? To someone you’ve never met before?”

“Yes, I really said that.”

An answering smile tugged at my cheeks, burning, itching to break into a huge grin.

“Well, let’s see if we can hone your abilities on someone a little more ‘normal’ than Oscar Moretti, shall we?”

On the other side of the hedge were Giles and Betsy, sipping prosecco and chatting with Mrs Wainscott and her very large husband – the disgruntled owners of Bridgit, the snappy dachshund.

Excellent.

“Oh look. There’s Giles, and Betsy. We should start there, right?” Teddy said, steering me towards the little group. The expression on my boss’s face was a marvellous picture of horror, and he subtly began shaking his head. But Teddy was like a steam roller and ploughed on towards them, smiling and dragging me along with him. “This will be an easy first conversation.”

“Well, actually, Ted, not really?—”

“Oh, don’t be defeatist. This’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Hannah!” Betsy exclaimed, and the Wainscotts looked up, obliterating any hope of avoiding this splendid car crash of an encounter.

“Hannah, Ted, so nice to see you,” Giles said in a strangled voice.

“And you.” Teddy turned and beamed at Mrs Wainscott, who, I think, may have actually swooned a bit when he shook her hand.Interesting.When he grasped Mr Wainscott’s meaty paw, he carried on. “I’m Ted Fraser. I live next door to Giles and Hannah’s surgery.”

“Fraser? Jim Fraser’s son?”

“Yes. You know Hannah Havens, do you?”

Teddy ushered me forwards, forcing me from my attempt to hide behind his back and pretend I was anywhere else but here, the fiery pits of hell being entirely preferable right now.

“Yes, we do.” Mrs Wainscott narrowed her eyes and glanced at Giles, who was trying, and failing, not to look like a caged rabbit about to be dropped into a stew.

A slightly awkward silence ensued, and Teddy lightly brushed my fingers with his.

Oh shit. It’s my turn to speak isn’t it?

I felt my mouth begin to open, and hoped to hell that whatever was about to come out wasn’t going to be the final nail in the coffin of my dwindling clinical career.

Clearing my throat, I said, “How is Bridgit, Mrs Wainscott?”

“Fine, thank you for asking.” Her tone was terse and Mr Wainscott had puffed himself up slightly next to her.

“Is Bridgit your patient?” Teddy asked mildly, innocently opening that can of wriggly, acrid worms.

“Yes. Mr and Mrs Wainscott have a rather beautifully bred dachshund. Her father was a Crufts champion,” I replied cautiously.

Giles, Betsy, and Mr and Mrs Wainscott all gaped at me.

Oh, balls, what’ve I done now?

“I have no idea about dog breeding,” Teddy said, “but even I’ve heard of Crufts. You must be very proud of her?”

Mrs Wainscott nodded.

“We’re working very hard to keep her as healthy as possible, aren’t we, Mrs Wainscott?” Betsy said quietly.

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