I’m instantly seized with the fierce desire to ease him. I think it’s always been there, to be honest. It’s in the way I took him off the jobs with younger men and made him dig gardens for old people, the way I’ve always watched out for him and tried to smooth his way. A bit like an aging Walter Raleigh, I think wryly. Trying to spread my cloak on the ground so he doesn’t get soaked by life’s problems.

“Alright?” I ask quietly.

He nods solemnly, his eyes fixed on mine.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, suddenly seized with this huge curiosity about how he thinks and feels. It’s at this point that I should back away, because that’s always been my launchpad in the past to becoming fascinated by someone. I wait for the panic to hit that I’m feeling it towards this beautiful boy, but for some reason it doesn’t come.

“I’m thinking I like this,” he finally says, and my heart clenches at the courage it must have taken to say that when I’d treated him so badly this morning.

I dive straight into speech. “I like it too.” His eyes widen in surprise for a split second before he conceals his gaze, his lashes swooping down to cover that bright gaze. “Oi,” I say quietly and he looks at me again. “I am so sorry about today,” I say firmly. He opens his mouth, and I shake my head. “Please let me say it.” He nods, and I take a deep breath. “I never should have reacted like that. It was horrible, and I was unkind because I panicked. And that was because I am older than you, Jess. You deserve a lot more than some middle-aged bloke who’s too scared to try.” I look at him as he watches me from his spot on my chest. “But I’m not too scared now,” I say softly, and he jerks slightly.

“What?”

I huff. “I think you might have noticed that I can’t keep my hands off you.”

I grab his hand, examining the long slender fingers and bitten nails, and, seized with a stupid tenderness, I bring it to my lips and press a kiss into the palm. He folds his fingers over it reflexively, as if holding the kiss, and stares at me, still silent as I speak.