I pull my hood up on my head as I step out of the greenhouse with Harry following closely behind me. Once outside, I turn to wait for him as his large hand pulls the glass door gently to a close. The whole time his eyes are focused on his grip of the wet door handle until it clicks into place. His downward gaze follows the damp floor to my feet then his bright eyes flick up to meet mine and he motions for us to head towards the house.

The rain has ceased falling and the garden looks vibrant and alive, rich in colour and renewed with vigour. The earlier angry sky is rolling away to reveal hints of azure peeking out from between the grey clouds. Rings of haloed light accentuate the patches of blue, shining blindingly towards the ground as the sun fights for supremacy in the sky.

This light glistens silvery wet across the forest green grass of the lawns and petrichor wraps itself around the air, all fresh and clean. Beads of moisture cling desperately to flower petals, some failing in their attempt and freefalling down onto the already saturated flowerbeds, splattering onto the earth below.

The deep chocolate soil is sodden, full like a sponge unable to absorb any more water. Puddles dominate the pathways where the uneven stone traps rainwater with nowhere to flow. Droplets drip from overhanging trees, forming continuous ripples that swirl around and around in the pockets of water. The colours of the rainbow appear discreetly across the slick surface of one where oil must have been previously spilt.

I simply adore the sights, sounds and smell of the garden after rain.

Harry and I wander side by side in silence through the post rain oasis towards the house. Being in such close proximity to him I notice how tall he stands, I reach up to just below his broad shoulders. His green boots scuff along the surface of the path, occasionally squelching when his foot lands on the soggy grass as he attempts to dodge overhanging branches.

He strides along with an assured confidence but as he glances over at me the glaze in his eyes is one of trepidation. His distraction causes him to collide with a sopping branch that swings back and unleashes a shower of raindrops like confetti down over us both. The water droplets skim off the surface of my waxed jacket but permeate into his hoodie, splotching dark patches into the cotton. At his chest, he bunches the material in his fist and shakes it vigorously to dispel any excess water and also, it seems, his irritation at his small misdemeanor.

When we reach the kitchen door, he pushes it open and stands aside, his outstretched palm offering for me to step into the utility room before him. All the time I can sense he's observing me intently but when I muster the courage to glance at him he looks away.

I slide off my wellies and place them on the shoe drying rack as he kicks off his, positioning them neatly beside mine. As I shrug out of my Barbour, he reaches for the collar easing the coat gently down my arms. He dutifully hangs it up then pulls his damp hoodie over his head and places it on the hook beside mine. We manoeuvre around each other with ease but the air between us is tense as we tread on eggshells, neither of us wanting to say the wrong thing, so saying nothing.

Again, he stands aside and holds out his arm to beckon me to walk through the small lobby into the vast kitchen. He pulls out a stool from under the kitchen island and invites me to sit down then walks over to the sink to fill the kettle before settling it on the Aga to boil.

When my grandparents lived here, the kitchen was a pine farmhouse kitchen, all wooden cupboards, steel sink and a walk-in pantry. However, before the house was rented, the kitchen was brought into the 21st Century and is now all modern, white gloss and glass fronted units, heavy granite work surfaces that sparkle with silver flecks, sleek appliances of every description, halogen lights and glass splash-backs. Although there are four ovens, the one thing that does remain from the original kitchen is the Aga and I am touched to see that Harry is using the warming plate to heat the enamel kettle.

He interrupts my reminiscing thoughts. "So this was your grandparent's house?" He questions, his voice deep and slow.

I look pensively towards him. "Yes, but how did you know?"

"Oh." He hesitates. "Um, you may have mentioned your grandmother when you, um, came round that time, never mind." He trails off with a wave of his hand.

My eyes cast down to the work surface. "Of course, the time I ranted at you like a banshee and pounded on your door." My voice is laced with embarrassment

He can't stifle the little grin that turns up his lips. "Hey, don't worry about it, I deserved it after the way I approached you in the Orchard then cancelled your gardening services."

"No, I don't think you did. It was your prerogative about the garden and, well, my emotions got the better of me." I offer to counter him.

"It's ok, I understand why this place is special to you."

"Yes it is, my grandparents, they lived here for over 50 years before they died."

"I'm sorry, you were obviously close."

"Yes really close, grandma taught me all I know about nature and gardening." My mind wanders away to her beautiful image that's popped fondly into my head.

"Well, she taught you well as the gardens here are amazing." His low crackly compliment brings me back to the here and now.

"Thank you, they're hard work but it's worth it. I feel like I owe to it their memory.

Silence ensues again as he makes two cups of tea, overly straining the bags in the mugs. He appears as nervous as I am which I find quite endearing but really surprising. He must meet new people all the time, I would have thought he'd be adept in making small talk.

He places a mug in front of me and settles down on the stool opposite from me at the kitchen island.

"So, is this the only garden you tend or do you have others?" he asks trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"Yes this one and my parents garden as well." The unfamiliar confidence I ooze when arguing with him has disappeared, replaced by hesitation. I feel so apprehensive around him.

"So what else do you like to do?" He lifts the mug to his lips, the greens of his eyes shine brightly at me over the rim.

"Well, I go to college four days a week where I'm studying floristry." I grab my mug and copy his actions, both of us now hiding behind our cups.

Silence again. He probably knows nothing about flowers and doesn't know what to say. Ask him something Lily and quickly, I say to myself, this is excruciatingly awkward.

"So you like baking?" Comes out of nowhere.

Amusement flashes across his face. "I used to work in a bakery as a Saturday job but am not very good at it. I do find cooking relaxing though and with all the lovely fruits available in the orchard I thought I'd give it a go." He seems coyly proud of his achievements.

"Well your apple muffin was delicious." I smile at him.

"Really?" His wide eyes indicate surprise.

"Yes really, you have a talent." I cock my head to one side and nod as I compliment him.

"Oh I wouldn't go that far, I don't think I'll be opening my own bakery anytime soon!" His shoulders jerk as he laughs.

"Well there will be strawberries, raspberries and citrus fruits over the summer so if you'd like some just let me know."

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

And just like that the awkwardness between us dissipates along with the tea in our mugs. I watch his whole body physically sink down into the stool as he relaxes and leans forward resting his forearms on the surface in front of him. Watching his every move, I notice my body has involuntarily responded as well and the tightness in my arms is fading away as my fingers slowly begin to relax their tight grip upon my mug.

"Look, I really am so sorry about the last few weeks. I am not usually unnecessarily rude. I naively thought I could come here and not see anyone and I well, I just wasn't prepared when I ran into you." He pulls his fingers through his tangled curls.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you escaping from?" I continue to sip my tea.

"No, of course not. In truth, nothing. There's nothing sinister about it. Having spent five years giving my all to everyone else, I just need some me time. The only way to truly get it is to disappear off the radar for a while. It's not a big deal." He shrugs.

"Try telling that to the media!" I jest.

"Well they are just a pack of wolves wanting to sell stories." His eyes narrow and there is indignation in his tone. "The closest people to me know where I am and that's all that matters." At the mention of his loved ones his eyes relax, ironing out the crease lines at their sides, and his eyelashes flutter tenderly.

"You couldn't have picked a better place. Please rest assured I won't tell anyone you are here." I offer truthfully.

"Thanks Lily, I appreciate that." His features soften in gratitude.

"Well I'd better go. Studying awaits. Thanks for the tea and everything."

"Yeah," he nods and smiles, "it was good Lily, today I mean."

"Yes, yes it was."

I slide off the stool and make my way towards the lobby. Harry takes my coat off the hook and holds it open. As I put my arms in he slides it onto my shoulders and I reach my hands under my hair to release it from the confines of the collar. I turn to face him and he's staring at me again, hesitant like he's about to say something but thinks better of it. I grab my boots off the rack and as I look down to put them on he eventually speaks.

"Umm, your hair looks, well, umm, nice."

I still, continuing to focus down on my boots before coming up to meet his eyes. He's noticed my hair and not only that he's mentioned it, out loud! My cheeks burn as my face flushes and I stumble for words to acknowledge him. "Oh, um, thank you."

"Sorry, I hope you don't think that's too forward." He looks totally embarrassed. "I just, it looks, you know, really nice. Sorry I already said nice." He waves his hand in front of him shooing the repeated word off through the air.

My lips are pulled into my mouth before I release them. "No, not at all, thanks, for noticing I mean." I grip a few strands of the length in my hand and study the ends as a curl twists around my finger. "Perks of having a best friend who is a hairdresser." I attempt to lighten the moment.

He chuckles and a set of perfectly symmetrical white teeth appear and two of the most incredible dimples I have ever seen in my life dip deep into each cheek.

"See you next week Lily." Runs smooth from his pink lips.

"Yeah, see you next week." I nod happily unable to tear my gaze from his dimples and mouth as we stand unmoving in the doorway. I find my mind again but still looking at him I point my finger towards the gate as Harry smiles and lifts his finger to copy my actions but stops himself when he realises. "Right, yes, I should go, now, see you, bye."

I step outside to leave and head towards the car with a spring in my step. When I reached the gate I turn to see Harry is still standing in the doorway watching after me. His arm is propped up against the doorframe, his hand resting on his head. He lifts his hand up as a goodbye. I return his gesture and go through the gate shutting it behind me.

When I get into my car I rest my head back against the headrest. I close my eyes as the last hour spent with Harry spins around in my head. What was all of that and why is my heart thumping ever so slightly harder in my chest?