A Dish Served Cold

## Hazel's POV

The doorbell rang, startling me from my thoughts. I wasn't expecting anyone today. A quick glance at my phone showed no missed calls or texts.

Bage, my golden retriever, bolted toward the door, tail wagging frantically. That was unusual. My rescue dog was typically cautious around strangers, a trait we shared.

"Who is it?" I called, approaching cautiously.

"Sebastian."

My pulse quickened. I hadn't expected him to drop by unannounced after our dinner last night. I smoothed down my casual weekend outfit—leggings and an oversized sweater—and opened the door.

Sebastian stood there, looking impossibly handsome in dark jeans and a gray cashmere sweater that highlighted his broad shoulders. In his hands was a small gift bag.

"Sorry for not calling first," he said, his eyes scanning my face. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by."