Okay, so I had planned to be strong, play it cool, keep things casual. But come on! How could anyone fail to melt in response to that?

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, there’s a chance?’ Daniel quirked up one side of his mouth. ‘Can you give me a percentage?’

‘Um… one hundred?’

‘I’ll take those odds.’ He ducked his head, concentrating on helping Hope with her breakfast, but I’d seen the joy shining in his eyes, and it perfectly matched the delight in mine.

I shoved the twinge of unease deep down beneath my fluttering stomach, and finished my breakfast.

It was a movie montage of a day. The sparkling lake reflected a sky the colour of forget-me-nots as we cycled into the town on bikes borrowed from the Tufted Duck’s tourist stash. Stopping for coffee by the shore in the spring sunshine, Hope’s eyes grew round with delight as she jabbered at the ducks quacking around our table. Afterwards, we caught the ferry over to the western side of the Lake, where I knew every trail and bike track, only stopping for lunch once Hope was nodding off in her toddler seat. We ate sandwiches pilfered from the kitchen sitting in a clearing, our coats a makeshift blanket. The air was fresh and sweet, spiced with the scent of earth and trees. The sound of birds and boats drifted across like a long-forgotten mix tape from my youth. Being here with Daniel sent pure joy fizzing through my veins.

And knowing he felt the same? The way he caught my eye and held it in the warmth of his gaze? The way that his hand kept brushing mine, how the spot he settled down on to eat meant that our shoulders were only millimetres apart… it was like an all-day internal firework display.

If it hadn’t been for Hope cooing beside us on the coats, I’m certain that a lot more would have happened. But that was fine, the anticipation and gentle flirting was delicious.

After dropping the bikes back, we loaded up the car and left for home. Even sitting beside Daniel in the car had my skin tingling. At one point, while waiting at a traffic light, he took hold of my hand and rested it in the space between the seats, and those endless seconds before he needed to let go and change gears felt like I was already home.

We stopped at a roadside café styled as an American diner, sharing steaming bowls of chilli with a mountain of nachos while Hope methodically spread jacket potato and cheese all over her face and hair.

Night had fallen by the time we arrived back at the farm, and returning to a cold, dark house gave the impression that we had been away far longer than two nights. I did an expert job of tucking a still sleeping Hope into her cot, praying the whole time that she wouldn’t wake up, and ducked into the bathroom to brush my hair, give my teeth a surreptitious clean and try to get my jangling neurones under control.