It sounds as pathetic as it must look, but he doesn’t seem as harsh and judgemental as he did earlier.

I take a few deep breaths and lean my head back and close my eyes. ‘It’s not because of what you said, it’s because you were right. This place is a disaster and I have no idea what I’m doing. The house is cold and damp and broken, my phone ran out of battery because I had to use it as a torch, and my best friend has been texting all afternoon asking how wonderful it is, and I haven’t replied because I don’t know how to tell her the truth about what a stupid mistake I’ve made.’

His coat rustles as he shrugs. ‘Tell her it needs work but you wanted a challenge. Here, give it to me, I’ll write it for you.’

I don’t know why, but I take the phone off the dashboard and put it in his open hand. I never trust anyone with my phone, but I don’t think twice about handing it to him.

I’m almost hypnotised by his fingers as they fly across my screen. I watch him with a strange mix of gratitude and amusement, until he turns the phone around and shows me what he’s written.

It’s a great area and the neighbours are the most wonderful people I’ve ever met. Farm needs a bit of work but I wanted a challenge.

I laugh at the remark about the neighbours and give him the nod to press send.

It beeps with a reply before he’s even had a chance to hand it back to me, and he laughs when he looks down at the screen.

Have you found a gorgeous, sexy farmer in a kilt yet?

Noel laughs. ‘Please let me reply to that?’

I nod. In for a penny and all that. When he holds up the phone to show me what he’s written before sending, it reads:

Yes, I have! The only thing missing is the kilt – too well-ventilated – but the wellies are sexy enough to make up for it! We might have a romp amongst the pumpkins next door!

I burst out laughing again, thankfully minus any snot bubbles this time. ‘Romp? Who uses the word “romp” these days? Have you time-travelled from a Charles Dickens novel?’

He shrugs as he presses send again. ‘Made you laugh though, didn’t it?’

The skin of my face is taut where the tears have dried, but I can’t deny it. ‘Chelsea’s going to know I didn’t write that.’

‘She’ll probably think you’re hanging out with your sexy new neighbour in his kilt and welly-boots.’ He winks at me, making the lip piercing shift and glint in the light of the car. ‘And before you go getting any ideas, I would never defile the pumpkins like that.’