Page 24 of Accidental Dad's Best Friend

My eyes trail up to her as I try not to drool on the muffins. “You made them? Like this morning?”

“I don’t sleep much,” she waves it off. “So it’s no bother at all. I’m Rosilyn,” she shoots out a hand. I juggle the basket and offer mine.

“Izzy.”

“Izzy.” She parrots the word, studying my face as if to memorize it. “Well Izzy, I best be going. But I live right down the block if you need anything at all.”

“Actually,” I say, nodding my head to the back of the house. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about washers and dryers would you?”

“You mean the ones that came with the house? Took me three months to figure mine out but I think I can help you.”

“Thank god,” I let out, making my way back to the kitchen to set the basket down. Rosilyn follows. After a lengthy, confusing, but eventually manageable enough explanation (that I would have never in a million years figured out on my own), I’ve absorbed enough instructions to at least do my own laundry.

“Thank you for that,” I say as I walk her back out.

“Any time. Anything you need at all, I’m just down the way.”

As I close the door I let out a decompressive sigh. I wasn’t expecting to make a friend that fast but I don’t hate it. I also don’t put too much heart into it. Again, I know this is temporary.Even if I find another writing job after I've finished with Ethan, I can’t see myself paying for this place on my own.

“Are those cupcakes?” Jaxon’s voice comes from the entry of the hallway.

“Even better. They’re banana muffins.” I say, grabbing two out of the basket.

“Where did they come from?” He asks with wide, hungry eyes and a perfectly lopsided grin.

“A new friend.” I smile back at him. Temporary or not, the thought of it leaves me feeling warm.

“This first paragraph is gold,” Ethan says from across the coffee shop table while looking down at the shared doc on his screen. We are at the same shop as last time because it’s convenient and I liked their coffee. But this time we have chosen a spot in the back, away from the morning craziness and the whirring of the steam wand and coffee grinder.

He has his steaming cup of something no doubt boring, lid off. And I have a caramel latte, as usual. Iced, foamy and delicious. I also brought a couple of the muffins from Rosylin. I guess I’m feeling generous this morning.

“Thanks,” I say, handing Ethan a muffin.

“You really hook the reader immediately which is exactly what we need. We want to grab all the attention right out the gate and hold it long enough that they get the truth– raw and unfiltered– before moving on to the next page. Honestly, I’d like it to pack enough of a punch that they don’t move on to the next page. These muffins are great, by the way. You make them?”

“No, my neighbor brought them over. When she showed me how to use my washer and dryer.”

“Our secretary brings baked goods into the office once in a while,” he says around a second bite. “She’s a real wizard in the kitchen. I think her pastries are half the reason I need a gym membership. Her cinnamon buns will be the death of me.” He pats his abs and even through his blue, tailored button down I can see the definition.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” I say, looking down at my laptop again.

“Sweetheart, this body is hard to upkeep. Trust me. I’m not young.”

I snort out a laugh at that. “You’re not old either.”

“You don’t think so?” His lips quirk in a half amused smile and for a moment I forget who he is. Who we are.

“No. I also don’t feel like you have anything to worry about. If I even look at pastries, I gain about five pounds. All in the hips too.”

Ethan laughs, a real laugh. “Bullshit. There is nothing wrong with your hips.”

“Tell that to all the guys my age,” I smile, focusing my eyes on my drink but still noticing from my peripheral that he is grinning. It’s making my heart skip and my head spin.

Ethan leans in. “The boys your age don’t know anything. They’re not men.”

I swallow hard and clear my throat. “So you like the first paragraph?”

“I do.” Ethan doesn’t seem bothered by whatever the fuck just happened between us. I am squirming in my seat. I don’t like it. Whatever it is (chemistry? Flirting?) I don’t like it. “Let’s keep going with that tone. You’re doing well.”

---