Golden Luckenbooth

Two

As I put the last load of dirty clothes in the industrial washing machine at 1:52 in the morning, I glance at the black leggings and white t-shirt currently on my body. Might as well. Stripping in the chilly office, I decide to throw my bra in also. Which leaves me shivering in nothing but my underpants. But whatever. If there's another emergency tonight, I feel sorry for the person who has to deal with me in my underpants and a giant coat, but that's the way it goes sometimes.

Chuckling, I return to the living room where only Piper glances at me from the spot in front of the hearth where the three dogs are lying.

"What? You've seen me naked loads. Not like I've grown any new body parts since the last time either."

With a snort of derision, the elder golden retriever lowers her head onto her paws, allowing her eyes to close as she drifts into blissful sleep, dreaming of chasing sticks and bunnies – not necessarily in that order.

Of course, if Harry Styles had taken Boomer with him tonight, I'd be snuggled in my bed surrounded by my two pups as I sleep deeply, unworried about the messiness of my home. But knowing the man plans to return tomorrow morning, I have no choice but to tidy the place.

Determined to fold the newly clean laundry now engulfing the sofa before I crawl upstairs to bed, I clear a space to sit between the warm piles of clothes. Immediately, I'm grateful for the necessary business expense of a full size washing machine and tumble dryer. Pulling a black, yellow, and red-patterned Fair Isle jumper over my head, I pick up the first item: a tee. Folding the clothes is rhythmic, and I struggle to keep my eyes open.

"Just one more," I whisper while reaching for the matching sock to the one I've already grabbed.

Moments later, there's a knock at the door, and I jerk awake from where my head has been buried in the clothing. The birds are chirping outside, and I surmise that it must be morning. Fuck me. I wanted to get an early start today. Swiping at my phone on the coffee table, I'm devastated to see that the battery has died so I've no idea of the actual time. Swiping the drool from my chin, I groan and stretch, only recalling that I've not yet pulled on leggings when the cool air of the house wafts across my bare thighs. Another knock sounds, and I draw my hand through my unruly hair, attempting to tame it. "To dream the impossible dream," I sing in as deep a voice as I can muster which is pretty deep considering, you know, morning. "Coming!" I call. "Hold your whisht!"

Grasping a pair of black jeans, I stick one leg in while hopping to insert my left foot, nearly toppling over. Luckily, I grab the back of a chair just in time to keep myself upright. Unluckily, the apparently unlocked door swings open to reveal HIM again.

My jaw drops at the lack of scruff on his face. He's shaved since last night. His eyes rake over me where I'm standing with my jeans still around my thighs, not having managed to pull them completely up.

"I thought you said 'come in'," Harry remarks, not even bothering to avert his eyes as I yank the waistband over my hips, buttoning the top button and making a move to zip the fly – my hands unable to grasp the zipper pull somehow. "Uh, I think those are button fly."

"Ah! So they are," I laugh, bunching part of my jumper under my chin so I can fasten the garment. As I push the last button through its hole, two ideas pop into my brain. The popstar has seen my knickers. And if I'm not careful, he'll see my boobs too. I rapidly yank the jumper down. Jay-sus, Anna! Get it together.

"Um, I said 'coming'. Not 'come in'," I clarify.

"I figured that out as soon as I walked in." His response is measured and calm, his eyes never leaving my body.

"And yet you stayed," I remind him, "and watched."

"Well...when the view is this majestic, I'm not sure I can be blamed." The smirk that accompanies his words makes my panties melt. Good thing I've managed to get my trousers on before he was able to witness the full disintegration of my dignity.