Page 93 of Fundamentals in Flirting

“No.”

“Ok, phew. Well. Good. Excellent. I’ll just go then.”

As she turned to leave, I opened the first page and began to read.

He was taller than any man she’d ever seen, broad across the shoulders, dark-haired and charismatic. He drew the eye of every lady in the great hall, and as his laughter lit up his ruggedly handsome face, people flocked to him like flickering moths to a flame. Even at this distance, his presence filled the room like a teacup overflowing the brim, sweeping her along and swirling her ever closer to him.

I didn’t read any more because the letters were swimming on the page and merging into each other and my head suddenly erupted with thoughts of Teddy. Everything Teddy and I had experienced together, how is presence filled my senses to the brim, nauseatingly so. And despite my best intentions, a fluttery, flouncy buzz was growing and growing behind my ribs, coupled with a new sick and desperate longing to see him, to talk to him again. To kiss him.

Well, shit.

Clara had opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. She gave me one last saddened look. “Nice to see you again. Good luck with everything.”

“Wait.”

She paused, hands falling back to her sides. “If it’ll change your mind about helping us, Henry can lend Teddy a kilt?—”

“No! No, that’s ok.” Alarmed as to how much Clara was about to tell me about Henry’s kilt fetishes, I quickly interjected. “No. Clara. I think I may have a plan.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“What about Bristol?”

“Maybe I won’t even get the job.” I paused as the cogs of my brain turned, gathering speed. “Or maybe I can do both?” The thought of leaving was becoming like a solid weight of sick in my belly. “But I’m going to need you and Henry to do some things for me. Are you in?”

A luminous mischievousness played in Clara’s eyes, and she sidled over to me like a funny cartoon villain, ringing her hands. “I love a good plan. What are we going to do?”

“First, I’m going to need you to get Ted out of his house for a few hours tonight, and then I’m going to need a notepad or something.”

“How about sticky notes?” Clara said, producing several blocks of different sized pads of yellow and pink sticky notes from her handbag.

“You came prepared?”

“You never know when you’ll need sticky notes,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Right.”

“So, what’s your plan?”

As I began to tell her what I had in mind, her eyes grew wide. She clapped and squealed and bounced on one leg, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that my plan was a bit mad bonkers, and would either work, or alienate me from Teddy forever.

So, absolutely no pressure whatsoever then.

ChapterTwenty-Eight

After I finished work that afternoon, I shot an email over to the Dean of the Veterinary School at Bristol to request an interview time, then nipped out to the shop to get the supplies I needed for my plan to win Teddy over. I would utilise all the skills he’d taught me in my flirting masterclass sessions with him. As I devised the intricacies of my plan, reliving each of the funny, poignant, and surprising moments of my acquaintance with Teddy Fraser, my heart began to brim with hope and warm feelings, yet a touch of anxiety still swirled in my stomach.

What if I couldn’t make this work? What if I just created some ridiculous shitstorm that I had to live with for the rest of my life?

But there was more than just my relationship with Teddy at stake. The thought of the Fraser twins never speaking again didn’t bear thinking about, and I knew I had to do this for them as much as for myself. Even if Teddy could never look me in the eye again.

As agreed, Clara had concocted a dastardly plan to ensure Teddy was delayed at work that afternoon. His father was enlisted to pile extra projects on him and keep him in the office until late so I had time to get everything ready at his house. Then Henry would accompany him back, under the pretence that they needed to try to clear the air, then make sure that when he arrived home he participated in the weird little treasure hunt that I had devised, before leaving the rest up to me.

I only hoped that it would work.

Clutching my carrier bag of props, I headed across the surgery car park, pushing open the rickety gate of The Old Rectory. At the top of the stone steps, I felt around for the spare key that he’d started leaving under the plant pot on the doorstep after the whole cellar incident, and I let myself in, sticking the first clue to the front door next to the heavy iron knocker.

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