I didn’t see the tiny intruder on my desk at first. My mind was occupied with too many other things to notice much about my surroundings. Data mapping, response rates, complex algorithmic calculations. Not to mention my grant proposal.
Hazel was in there too, but I was trying to pretend she wasn’t.
I’d already been at work for a few hours when I finally saw the penguin figurine sitting on my desk. How had I not noticed it until now?
Shaking my head, I picked up the little penguin. Nice one, Hazel.
I ran my thumb over the smooth ceramic surface. It was only a few inches tall, painted shiny black and white. She’d obviously put it there to poke at me over the favorite animal conversation. I still felt like a dork for backtracking when I’d said penguins. Lion or grizzly? Really, Corban? I didn’t know why I’d done that. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress her. Why did I care if she knew I liked penguins?
I set it down off to the side behind a stack of books. Next to the other little penguin I already had.
They kind of matched.
Suddenly, my mind lit up with another way to mess with her. She wanted to tease me about my favorite animal? She didn’t have a favorite, so I’d start putting a different animal on her desk every day. I did a quick search on Amazon and found several sets of small plastic animals. Zoo animals, safari animals, marine creatures, household pets. I even found a package of dinosaurs.
Hazel was going to get a menagerie.
The scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread wafted into my office, pulling my attention from my prank planning. What was that? Where was it coming from?
Like a cartoon character following a tantalizing scent he can’t resist, I practically floated into the hallway. I paused in the doorway of Hazel’s empty office. It smelled good in there, but that wasn’t the source. I kept searching, sniffing the air. My mouth watered and my stomach growled. I hadn’t even been hungry a minute ago, but whatever I was smelling had triggered a chain reaction of responses in my brain and body.
My nose led me to the staff lounge where a knot of people had gathered around one of the tables. They were chewing, licking their fingers, and emitting a chorus of satisfied murmurs.
“Hazel, these are the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever eaten.”
Hazel? Oh, boy.
The little crowd parted, revealing a triumphant Hazel standing in front of two trays of fresh cinnamon rolls. Her blouse was beige today, paired with a black skirt, and it was weird that I noticed what she was wearing given the other sensory stimuli demanding my attention—namely, the smell of those cinnamon rolls. But I did notice. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, her dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, and her nails were painted soft pink. I’d never noticed her with painted nails before.
“Corban, you have to try one of these,” Elliott said. He popped a bite in his mouth and closed his eyes. “These aren’t on my diet, Hazel. I should be mad at you, but they’re too good.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
A few of the other staff members thanked Hazel and wandered off, still pulling apart sticky bites of cinnamon roll. My eyes flicked between Hazel and the trays, my stomach shouting at me to get one and shove it in my face immediately.
For half a second, I wondered if she’d let me have one.
With precise movements, she cut a thick cinnamon roll, the top bathed in white sugary frosting, and set it on a napkin. Meeting my eyes, she lifted it and held it out.
I took it and oh my god, it was still warm. “Thanks.”
Biting my lower lip, my mouth watering at the delicious aroma of fresh bread and cinnamon, I pinched a soft bite between my thumb and forefinger. Hazel watched me with eagerness in her eyes, like she couldn’t wait to see me taste it.
Hold on.
I hesitated, the sticky chunk of sweet and cinnamony heaven just inches from my mouth.
Had she done something to my piece?
Everyone else, including our boss, was happily eating. They were moaning, licking fingers, and showering her with compliments. Their cinnamon rolls were obviously fine. More than fine, they were clearly extraordinary.
But could she have saved the tainted one for me? Was that why she was personally handing them out? She had to be sure the one filled with… what could she have filled it with? Pepper in the cinnamon? No, this smelled fantastic. Had she put something gross in the frosting? It didn’t look any different from the rest.
It was official. I’d gone crazy. I was actually wondering whether my coworker had baked a huge batch of cinnamon rolls and ruined one of them just so she could get back at me.
I was undoubtedly making it weird by standing here with a chunk of cinnamon roll halfway to my open mouth. So I took the bite.
The soft doughy roll melted in my mouth, giving me an immediate rush of euphoria-inducing neurotransmitters. She hadn’t ruined it with unappetizing ingredients. It tasted perfect. Fluffy and sticky. Sweet with a savory kick from the cinnamon. If she’d poisoned it with something I couldn’t taste, I decided it was worth it. This wouldn’t be a bad way to go.
“Oh my god,” I groaned around the bite.
Hazel pursed her lips, the corners hooking in a little smile.
“I’m glad you’re both here.” Elliott wiped his fingers on a napkin. “I know this is last minute, but the Personality and Social Psychology Conference is coming up soon. Would either of you be interested in attending?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely.”
We answered at the same time and our gazes darted to each other’s. Her eyes narrowed. I slowly chewed another bite of cinnamon roll.
The Personality and Social Psychology Conference was a big deal. Not only was it a chance to network with other professionals in our field, the sessions covered a wide range of topics—including research grants and funding.
I wanted that spot.
“Both of you,” Elliott said, tossing his napkin in the trash. “Great. I know the conference organizers, so I’m sure we can make that happen. Since it’s so soon, get with Maggie this afternoon to make arrangements.”
He was sending us both? So it wouldn’t be a gladiatorial match to death to compete for the conference ticket. That was probably best. And I probably needed to take a break from comic books.
But an out-of-town trip with Hazel? Our eyes met again, and I wondered if she was dreading it. Or regretting that she’d spoken up. Did the thought of spending a few days at a conference with me make her sick? I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, either.
“Thank you,” Hazel said. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“It’s a very well-run conference,” Elliott said. “You’ll get a lot out of it. Since you’re both going, coordinate with each other so you hit different sessions. Then you can share notes, cover more topics that way.”
“Sure, we can do that.” I nodded and shoved the last bite of cinnamon roll in my mouth.
Of course we could. We were both adults. Professionals. Elliott didn’t know he kept shoving the two of us together against our will.
Although this cinnamon roll was so good, it was making me question everything. How could a woman who was so evil produce such heavenly food?
We thanked Elliott again and he went back to his office to email us more details.