‘I still can’t believe you pulled a stranger on a tube platform and it turned out to be love,’ Karen said once she’d pulled out of the car park. ‘That’s seriously impressive.’

It had been a freezing cold evening in mid-January last year when I met Scott. A fierce wind and ice-cold driving rain meant the streets were eerily deserted. I’d been working late at the museum and ran for the tube but the doors closed a split second before I could reach them. Karen’s favourite curse – ‘arse’ – slipped out and I laughed as I heard a man’s voice say ‘bollocks’ at the same time. I glanced down the platform to see a tall dark-haired man in a suit who’d also missed catching the same tube. Our eyes met and my tummy fizzed. He opened his mouth but whatever he said was blocked out by an announcement that, due to signalling failure caused by frozen electrics or something like that, our line would be temporarily suspended and, as there were already problems with two other lines too, passengers were advised to make alternative arrangements for their journey.

‘Bollocks,’ I cursed as he said, ‘Arse,’ and we both laughed.

‘Were you heading far?’ he asked, taking a few steps closer to me.

We discussed stops and it turned out that he was staying in a hotel very close to where I lived.

‘Looks like it’s going to have to be a cab,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy going halves on the fare, assuming you’re not a mad axe-murderer, that is?’

He laughed. ‘I’m Scott. Scott Hastings. And I only murder people on weekends. Thursdays are my “be nice to humanity” days so you’re in luck. Unless you were specifically looking for a mad axe-murderer in which case Thursday is close enough to the weekend that I could make an exception.’

I laughed too. ‘I’m Jemma Browne with an ‘e’ on the end, and I’ve got far too much work to do before Saturday to pretend the weekend has started already so you can keep your axe locked away for now.’

Fifteen minutes later we were both shivering from the cold after zero success in flagging down a black cab and no sign of availability on any apps.

Scott turned to me with a smile. ‘Jemma Browne with an ‘e’ on the end, I don’t suppose you fancy going halves on dinner instead of a cab? Scrub that. Can I buy you dinner?’

I didn’t even need to think about it. In the short time we’d spent together so far, my stomach hadn’t stopped fizzing. My feet and fingers were numb, I couldn’t feel my cheeks anymore, but my heart was singing.

Scott took my hand and we ran through puddles and rivers of rain to the nearest restaurant so we could dry out and warm up.