After a moment of deliberation, he pulled out a crisp, light blue button-down shirt, the faint scent of laundry detergent still clinging to the fabric, and a pair of dark wash jeans with a slight fade at the knees. He held the shirt up against himself, examining his reflection in the mirror.
“Rate my outfit, Hero,” Ethan said, turning to the dog who had made himself comfortable on the twin bed, sprawled out among the books and folders Ethan had dumped there.
Hero’s tail thumped against a stack of papers, scattering a few to the floor.
“Solid eight, huh? What do I have to do to get a ten?” Ethan chuckled, striking a mock pose.
Hero tilted his head, letting out a soft whine.
“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look. This is my best shirt. Well, the best option I have tonight. Isn’t that a factor?”
The dog responded by rolling onto his back, paws in the air, tongue lolling out.
“All right, all right.” Ethan laughed, reaching over to rub Hero’s belly. “I get it. The outfit’s fine, but it’s my personality that matters more, right?”
Hero’s tail wagged furiously in response.
“You’re a good wingman, you know that?” Ethan said, giving Hero one last pat before turning back to the mirror.
As he buttoned up the shirt, smoothing out the collar, Ethan caught sight of his reflection. He grimaced, running a hand through his unruly hair. It had grown longer than usual, and now it seemed intent on sticking up in all directions.
Ethan grabbed a comb from the dresser, its teeth catching as he attempted to tame his unruly hair into some semblance of order. After a few minutes, he got it looking reasonably presentable.
“Not bad,” he said, angling his head to check his handiwork from different sides.
As he reached inside the bag for his belt, his hand brushed against something unexpected, and he retrieved a small bottle of cologne he’d forgotten he’d packed. It had been ages since he’d worn any, but something made him pause.
When he turned the bottle over, a faint smile curved his lips as he recognized the familiar label—the same brand he’d started using back in high school.
With a shrug, he dabbed a bit on his neck and wrists. Ethan closed his eyes, the scent pulling him back to the very first time he’d ever worn that cologne ...
“Why do you smell so good?” Kara asked, gliding by Ethan with the mop.
Ethan slid a box of supplies onto the shelf, grinning. “Just something new I’m trying out.” He stretched his back, brushing his hands on his khakis before turning to face her. “Want me to finish mopping?”
Kara raised an eyebrow. “You, offering to mop? Now that’s new.” She shook her head with a smile. “I’m nearly done. Did you remember to take out the trash?”
“Already done.”
Kara propped the mop against the wall with a soft clunk and slipped a hair tie off her wrist. “Is it just me, or is it stuffy in here?” She fanned her face with one hand. “Dad needs to stop cutting off the AC when we close. We’re still working for like an hour after that.”
As she gathered her chestnut hair into a messy bun, Ethan couldn’t look away from her effortless grace. Even in her simple Walker’s Pharmacy uniform—an oversized t-shirt, wrinkled khakis, and scuffed sneakers—she radiated a beauty that took his breath away.
The air between them crackled with electricity. His pulse quickened, each beat echoing in his ears as he took a single, tentative step toward her.
The moment stretched out between them. Ethan knew some silences spoke louder than words, and this one was screaming everything his heart had been trying to say that entire summer.
“Missed one,” he said, his fingers gently brushing her cheek as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
Kara’s eyes, warm pools of amber flecked with gold, locked onto his gaze, a mixture of amusement and desire dancing in their depths. “Was that really about my hair,” she whispered, “or did you just want an excuse to get closer?”
Ethan’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Should I back off?”
Kara’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Don’t you dare,” she murmured, tilting her chin upward. “Kiss me.”
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Hero’s ears shot up, and he bolted toward the front door.