Page 88 of Fundamentals in Flirting

We dropped Agnes at her house and ensured she had some dinner and all was well again with her, then settled the goats back into the shed, before heading back outside, where the warmth of the day was now more tepid and bearable.

Leaning languidly against his Land Rover, Teddy studied me intently.

“Do you want to come in for a drink, and maybe a bite to eat?”

“Ummm…”

Noticing my hesitation, he smiled and stepped forward.

“It’s up to you, but it could be reallynice.”

“Nice, huh?”

His intonation did not go unnoticed and my heart began to thud wildly in my chest.

“Oh yeah. I’ve got a few advanced lessons on how to be nice that I want to show you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Umm…”

Teddy laughed, heading for the front door of The Old Rectory.

“You coming?”

I dithered, hopping from foot to foot. I knew this was a pivotal moment. A point of no return. I was either going to throw myself into this head-first or run away and hide, and until my feet began to move, I wasn’t sure which way it would go. But the relief that washed over me as I took Teddy’s hand and stepped over the threshold was all-encompassing.

Teddy closed the door behind us, while I caught sight of myself in the large floor-length antique mirror in the hallway, its scrolled and gilded frame twinkling in the low light of the lamp that sat on the console table by the door. And I was hit with a sudden burst of disgust, the large and uninhibited view of my whole body causing a ripple of revulsion and self-loathing to radiate through me.

“Perhaps this was a bad idea.” I turned my head away, certain now that there was no way that Teddy was being honest with me. This could not be real. It wasn’t possible.

“Look at yourself, Hannah,” Teddy whispered, moving in close behind me, close enough that I could feel his warmth, but not touching me.

“I can’t,” I replied, my eyes cast down to the flagstones at my feet. I scuffed the floor with my sturdy ankle boots.

“Why? What do you see?”

“I don’t like what I see, so it’s better not to look,” I murmured.

My inner turmoil was raging and bubbling intensely.

“Then look at me instead,” he answered softly.

Gently he laced his fingers with mine, holding my left hand tenderly and using his right hand to sweep the long curtain of my hair back. He caressed his way over my shoulder, across my collar bone, the rough pads of his fingers brushing the skin at the opening of my shirt. Slowly, achingly slowly, he inched his hand up my neck, the side of his face now close to mine, breathing softly in my ear, he tipped my chin up with his thumb.

“Look at me, Hannah.”

I glanced up at our reflection, taking in my awkward gawkiness and his glorious self-assuredness as he stood behind me, the breadth of his shoulders against my slim ones, the difference in our height, the slight downward tilt of his head, and the way he pressed his nose into my hair. Our eyes met in the mirror.

“Good. Now keep looking at me, whatever happens, ok?”

“What’s going to happen, Teddy?” I asked breathlessly.

“I’m going to tell you how beautiful you are, and you’re going to believe me,” he replied. “But you’re only to look at me, ok?”

I nodded, captivated by him, by the insistent and persuasive tone of his voice, the feel of his hands on me, and the warmth of his body now pressed against my back.

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