Waiting for love

This is my response to Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge today. What a picture to play with (and no Tommy Steele in sight)
The image below is from artbyrandy at Morguefile.
He felt a right pillock standing there, but he was an old-fashioned guy with old-fashioned values, and first impressions mean a lot, right?
He’d described himself as an ageing, heavy set ZZ Top reject, who played the guitar a little, and liked nature.
He chuckled. She could have asked him to be wearing his birthday suit, but maybe that was for another time.
Mentally slapping himself for getting ahead of the game, he stood on the slabbed path alongside the little pool with the huge Koi Carp, bouquet in hand, and waited.
The vision came towards him, as lovely as he’d imagined, and he stood his tallest, flowers at the ready.
‘You must be Frank,’ she said accepting the bouquet with a warm smile.
‘And you’re Nancy,’ he replied.
She took his arm and whispered ‘Let’s hope we’re not strangers in the night’.
He flushed crimson and felt there was life in the old boy yet.