Page 14 of Just a Friend for the Lion

---

These days, some of my favorite people are actually supernaturals keeping that part of their lives a secret in this big, bad modern world.

I think it’s amazing. And brave. But also maybe lonely.

And that brings me back to Mr. Gold Eyes.

Something about the way Uncle Uzzi’s eyes twinkled when they sat down made me suspicious.

Like he was watching a match catch fire.

Is this real? Was that a setup?

I mean, the dude did seem kind of startled to see me. And distracted. And not in theoh-no-I-forgot-my-walletkind of way.

More likewow-I-might-have-finally-met-the-person-who-can-rock-my-worldkind of way.

And honestly? Same.

Not that I’m getting my hopes up.

I mean, let’s be real—he probably has some supermodel girlfriend who wears vintage leather and smells like champagne and zero calories.

Or he’s allergic to gluten.

Or he’s got a personality like a dial tone.

Still, I wonder as I crack open the oven and slide in a tray of garlic knots, inhaling the familiar scent of butter, herbs, and possibility.

Maybe it’s okay to be curious.

Maybe it’s okay to wonder what it’d feel like to lean into something good.

Even if it’s just for a minute.

Even if all he’ll ever be is a customer, or just a friend.

Because ifMr. Gold Eyeswalks back through that door?

I am definitely pretending to drop something in front of him.

Chapter 5

Carter

The garage smells like new tires, leather polish, and sweat.

Normally, that’s comforting. It’s the scent of independence. Of control.

My place.

My rules.

But right now?

All I can smell is her.

Tomato, basil, and temptation—with something sweeter underneath.

Like brown sugar and heat and sin in tight jeans and a Pizza Girls tee.

---