Page 55 of Most Likely to Fear Love

Christ. Ten days.

My body tightened at the thought, and I forced myself to focus on the tasks at hand. Clean house. Shower. Review terms.

Professional. I could do professional.

Max’s tail thumped against the floor, and I swear he was laughing at me.

CASSIDY

Iwas sitting in my car out the front of Harle’s, staring at his front door. For sure, he knew I was here, but all the hounds of hell could not drag me from my car.

No. Fuck it. I can’t do it. Just as I was reaching down to turn the key in the ignition, my phone buzzed.

Hannah:Don’t you dare be a chicken shit. I’ll be living vicariously through you and I’m going to want allll the gory details.

Well, that wasn’t exactly helpful. It did absolutely nothing to get me to open my car door. Dropping my phone back on the passenger seat, I reached for the keys again.

My phone buzzed a second time and I rolled my eyes before looking down at it.

Hannah:But also, I love you and I hope it works out. You deserve all the happiness in the world.

Aaaw.

Me:I love you too. I’m scared shitless but I just got to Harle’s and I’m about to go inside.

Hannah:You got this!

I was pretty sure I didn’t, but Harle was going to think I was a loon if I sat here for too much longer. Pulling on every ounceof courage I possessed, I shoved the car door open and strode determinedly to the front door.

He pulled the door open two milliseconds after I knocked. Had he been waiting just on the other side? And was it my imagination or had he somehow gotten even hotter? The tight black shirt. The jeans. The hair pulled into a knot on top of his head. The smile.

Yeah, my insides just melted.

“Hey. Good timing. I’ve got the water boiling for tea or coffee. But I’ve also got soda if you prefer.”

Clutching the strap of my purse like a lifeline, I followed him inside. “Tea would be great.”

“What kind would you like? I’ve got normal black tea. Chamomile. Peppermint. And some weird floral shit my sister likes.”

“I’ll—” Oh fuck, my voice was squeaking. Taking a moment to clear my throat, I said, “Chamomile sounds great, thanks.”

“Chamomile it is, then. Sit tight at the table. I won’t be long.”

I took a seat, perching on the edge of the chair while Harle moved easily around the kitchen. The sound of clinking cups and the soft hiss of water pouring filled the air.

He set a mug in front of me and pulled out the chair next to mine. When he sat, he was close enough that the heat of his body made me hyper aware of how tightly wound I was.

“I think I’m just going to get straight into it, because you seem very tense. The sooner we get through this, the sooner you can stop stressing about it.”

“Um, yeah. Okay.”

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when he reached over to the end of the table and grabbed a clipboard. This was way more official than I had imagined.

His voice was low and soothing when he began, and I found myself leaning in despite my nervousness. “So, I want to makesure we’re both clear about what this is. And what it isn’t. You good with that?”

I nodded quickly, curling my hands around the mug for something to hold on to. “Yeah. That sounds smart.”

“Great. Let’s get started.” He shifted his chair closer, his thigh now inches from mine. “The agreement is you’ll stay with me for ten days. In that time, you agree to free use. I’ll have you whenever and wherever, and however I want to. But with a few caveats.”

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