Page 42 of Golden Days

“Aw, that’s so sweet.”

There’s not a trace of malice in her tone. My head whips in her direction and she’s…smiling softly at me. She’s not judging, not making fun of me for being thirty years old and being ashamed of my therapy cat.

“Yes, well…” My ears are warm. I clear my throat, moving on from the conversation. I push the door open and set her suitcase by the dresser. “There’s a queen bed, a full bathroom, a closet behind you,” I point again and she tracks each one with her keen eyes.

The room itself is nothing too fancy. The walls are white, with a few abstract paintings hanging up. There’s a plush green rug by the closet and a full-length mirror.

“Oh?” she says, eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s yours to use for now,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and tapping my fingers on my right bicep.

Her eyes fill with tears again and I stiffen. Is she upset?

“This is too much,” she whispers, bottom lip trembling.

“It’s fine. Why don’t you unpack while I make some breakfast, and we can go from there?” I say, inching closer to the door.

Hazel sniffs and wraps her arms around my waist again. Her cheek against my naked chest makes me shiver, and it’s not because she’s cold. Why haven’t I put a shirt on already?

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Can I take a shower?”

I choke on my reply, trying very, very hard not to think about her naked in that rain shower. “Whatever you need. I’ll get started on breakfast,” I say, extricating myself out of her arms and shutting the door closed behind me.

With a sigh, I bang my forehead against the doorframe. What the hell am I doing?

I can’t cook.

The sound of the shower echoes faintly as I pace the kitchen. After checking each shelf in the fridge and realizing I have nothing except for smoothie ingredients, I gave up and ordered breakfast from the nearest spot.

I try not to overthink bringing Hazel here. Obviously I want to help her, but I fear my motives for offering my spare bedroom are not entirely pure of heart.

Frustrated with myself, I move from pacing the kitchen to pacing the living room. Petunia meows, trailing after me. Back and forth, back and forth. I hear the water stop and the faint sounds of Hazel moving about the guest room down the hall.

Is she wearing nothing but a towel around her body? Are water droplets stuck to her soft porcelain skin? Is her hair as curly when it’s wet?

Groaning, I stop and drop down on the couch, face first. My hand dangles off the side and Petunia reaches me quickly, rubbing her head on my hand. I pet her soft fur and mumble, “What the fuck am I gonna do?”

“About what?”

I yelp and quickly stand, pressing a hand over my heart. “Jesus, Ez, you scared me.”

Ezra shoves the last bite of a banana into his mouth like he didn’t just startle the shit out of me. “You didn’t hear the door open and close?”

“No—”

There’s a thump from the spare bedroom and a muffled curse.

Ezra’s head slowly turns to the hallway where the guest bedroom is. His eyes widen and he turns back to me, his jaw hanging open. “Did you hook up with someone?” He gasps. “Is it Hazel?”

I take a sharp breath and quickly walk him to the door. “You need to leave.”

“Wait, it is her?” he asks in delight.

“It’s not what you think and I’ll explain later, but I don’t want you to spook her just by being here. So go,” I say, gently shoving him out the front door.

“You sneaky…” he trails off, shaking a finger at me. “You better have updates for me later. Which, by the way, I’ll be gone all day,” he says with an exaggerated wink.

I’m saved by a call from the food delivery guy, letting me know he’s at the gate. I remotely open it. When the car comes to a stop in front of the house, I shoo Ezra away and take the food from the delivery person.