“Hey.” His face lit up with a smile when he saw me, and he pushed his keyboard away.
That smile. It made my insides feel all squishy. And I was not usually the sort of girl to get squishy insides.
“Hi. Do you have a few minutes? I thought we could review the study protocols.”
“Sure. Have a seat.”
I winced as I lowered myself into the chair. Our training runs were getting longer, leaving me with an excess build-up of lactic acid in my leg muscles.
“Are you okay?”
I smoothed my skirt over my legs. “Yes, fine. Just a bit sore.”
“From what?”
“Running. My girlfriends and I decided to train for the Soggy Seattle Half-Marathon.”
“Yeah? Have you done one before?”
I shook my head. “No. We’ve been running together for quite some time, but this is a new challenge. And my friend Sophie made things more competitive when she bet another group of runners that we’d finish before them.”
“Why did she do that?”
“They engage in typical mean-girl social behaviors.”
His expression grew serious. “They’re mean to you?”
I shrugged. “They try to be, but they no longer have the power to hurt my feelings.”
“Still, that’s not okay.”
“Apparently Sophie agrees with you. Their meanness was the catalyst for her challenge. She bet them five hundred dollars that our finish times would beat theirs.”
“Wow. Well, if you ever need a running buddy, I could go with you.”
The corner of my mouth twitched in a smile and my heart did the strangest little flutter. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Something on his desk caught my attention. Off to the side, almost hidden, was the penguin figurine I’d left to tease him. It sat next to another one of similar size.
“I knew you liked penguins.” I pointed to the pair.
His sheepish grin and little shrug sent a pleasant tingling through my stomach. “Busted. They are my favorite animal.”
“Why?”
He picked up the two penguins. “They mate for life. Some species do, at least. They pick a partner and stick with them, year after year.”
Why did he have to be so adorable? He was making it very hard not to climb over the top of his desk and launch myself at him.
“Their ability to find their mate in a sea of other penguins is rather heartwarming,” I said. “As is their dedication to protecting their egg together.”
“Yeah, exactly. It sounds cheesy, but I’ve always wanted to find my penguin.”
My heart fluttered and if I’d have been standing my knees would have gone weak. Which was so strange. Thankfully, he continued, preventing me from saying something ridiculous like I’ll be your penguin, Corban.
“The problem is, I’m not a penguin.”
“Of course not. You’re a human.”
He grinned again. “No, I mean my animal equivalent. I’m more like a duckbill platypus.”
“Why a duckbill platypus?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? They’re the most socially awkward animal on the planet.”
I was about to say that I didn’t think he was socially awkward at all—and if he was, maybe I was too—when something behind me caught his attention.
He stood, his face lighting up with a big smile. “Hey, Molly.”
Both my heart and my stomach continued their reactions, only they shifted from flutters and tingly butterflies to a startling—and very unexpected—rush of panic.
Corban’s sister.
His twin sister. A family member he was close to and, for reasons I couldn’t fathom without further analysis, a woman I very much wanted to like me.
Wiping my suddenly sweaty palms on my skirt, I stood. Corban was already hugging her in the doorway. He stepped back, revealing a pregnant woman who looked like a female version of him. Her brown hair was cut in a cute bob and they had a similar nose and mouth. Her features were more feminine, but the resemblance was impossible to miss.
Her eyes landed on me. “Oh, hi. I’m Molly, Corban’s sister.”
“Sorry,” Corban said. “This is Hazel. She’s, um… we work together.”
I firmly ignored the way his introduction—we’d done a lot more than work together—made my heart sink a little. How else would he introduce me? This was fine.
Molly kept one hand resting on her very pregnant belly and reached out to me with the other. We shook, which gave me the second I needed to find my voice.
I had no idea why I was so nervous.
“Nice to meet you, Molly. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” She smiled brightly and rubbed her belly, then stepped aside, gesturing over her shoulder. “This is my friend Paisley.”
My smile faded as a jaw-droppingly beautiful woman stepped up beside Molly. Her blond hair hung around her shoulders in the sort of flawless waves that looked effortless, but I happened to know took a great deal of expertise to get right. She wore a stylish white shirt with high-waisted slacks and her makeup highlighted her best features—which, to be honest, were all of them.
This was Paisley Hayes? His sister’s best friend? The girl he’d had a crush on back in high school?
“Hey, Paisley,” Corban said.
His voice was nonchalant, like he’d expected to see her. Which made me wonder why. I hadn’t realized he still saw his former crush on a regular basis, but her presence here with Molly and his unfazed reaction seemed to indicate that he did.
I quickly told myself this was fine. Again.
Until Paisley’s attention turned to Corban.
It felt like watching a scene unfold in slow motion. She angled her body so she was aligned with him—classic physical mirroring. Her lips parted in an open-mouthed smile and even from a few feet away, I could see her pupils dilate. Her gaze swept up and down and her tongue wet her lips.
“Hi, Corban.” Her tone was just seductive enough to indicate interest, but not so flirtatious as to be obvious to the casual observer.
But casual observer I was not, and I could see her intentions as plain as day.
She wanted him.
I hated her.
The heady rush of jealousy was so fast and so unexpected it practically stole the breath from my lungs. I watched with horror as Paisley approached Corban, threw her arms around his shoulders, and hugged him. He hugged her in return, giving her an awkward pat on the back while I dug my fingernails into my palms.
She dropped her arms but didn’t move more than a few inches away. “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along for lunch.”
“No, I don’t mind.”
My eyes darted to Molly. Was she supportive of this? Had Paisley asked her to set her up with Corban? Was Molly playing matchmaker with dreams of her brother marrying her best friend?
It was hard to say. Molly had her phone out and appeared to be texting someone rather than watching Paisley unabashedly throw herself at Corban.
Maybe unabashedly throw herself was a little dramatic—after all, she’d only hugged him—but the haze of jealousy was fierce. I didn’t want her anywhere near him, let alone touching him.
She ran her hands down the front of his shirt, as if to smooth it, and I bit the inside of my lip.
Molly tucked her phone in her purse. “Sorry, Martin freaks out if I don’t text him back within thirty seconds lately. Are you guys ready?”
Corban put his hands in his pockets. “Sure.”
“Uh-oh.” Paisley tilted her head as if to inspect him. “Your shirt is untucked right here.”
She reached out, like she was going to grab his shirt and tuck it in for him.
In his pants.
With her hands.
Her hands in his pants.
I was livid.
Corban stuffed his shirt into the waistband of his pants before she could. “I got it.”
“God, Paisley, leave him alone,” Molly said
with a laugh. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”
Paisley pinched his shirt between her thumbs and forefingers, right at the waist, and tugged a little. Then she smoothed the front down, skimming her hands over his torso. “There. Much better. Where should we go for lunch?”
I barely heard the rest of their short conversation. I was too busy trying not to glare at Paisley—and sorting through the very confusing barrage of feelings I was experiencing—to focus on what they were saying.
A moment later, they appeared to have decided on a lunch location. Molly had already stepped out into the hallway with Paisley just behind her.
Paisley turned and her eyes landed on me, as if just realizing I was here. I saw her gaze dart from me, to Corban, back to me again. The flash of smugness in her expression was so brief, I almost missed it. But I’d studied micro-expressions quite extensively and there was no mistaking her disdain. Her look said, you’re no threat to me.
And of course, I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t Corban’s girlfriend. Yes, we’d slept together, but we’d both insisted it was only an out-of-town indulgence. He was free to do what he wanted. This sudden experience of intense jealousy was as silly as it was irrational.
Besides, I never got jealous. I wasn’t that sort of woman.
Was I?
“It was nice to meet you, Hazel,” Molly said with a little wave.
“You, too.” Good; my voice sounded completely normal.
Corban paused in the doorway. “Are you hungry? You can come with us if you want.”
I didn’t miss the flash of anger that crossed Paisley’s face. A part of me—the part where jealousy burned hottest—wanted to go so I could wedge myself between Corban and Paisley. So I could ruin whatever plans she had of trying to get close to him.
But I had work to do. I didn’t have time for those kinds of games. Corban was a grown man. He could do what he wanted.
“Thank you, but they’re expecting me in the lab soon.”
“Maybe another time,” Molly said.
I squared my shoulders and adjusted my glasses. “I’d like that.”
Corban met my eyes with a crooked smile.
That look sent a buzzing warmth through my veins, and that very odd and so-unlike-me flare of jealousy was back.
“Corban, before you go, I meant to ask if you’d like to have dinner. With me. At my place. I’ll cook.”
His eyebrows lifted. My offer surprised him.
It surprised me too. What was I doing?
“We still have a lot of work to do on the motion capture study,” I added quickly.
“Sure, yeah. That sounds good.” Meeting my eyes again, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “We have a lot of data to cover.”
There was something so disarmingly sexy about the way he could be both assertive and almost shy. The heat in his gaze was unmistakable, but the way he put his hands in his pockets was adorably sheepish. The combination made me want to kiss him, right here.
But I couldn’t do that.
“Great. We can finalize details later. Your sister’s hungry, so you should probably go.”
“Right.” He looked back and forth between me and Molly, as if he’d forgotten what was going on around him. “Yeah, lunch. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay.”
My gaze flicked to Paisley. The smugness in her face was gone, replaced by irritation.
Not a threat? We’d see.
They left and I let out a long breath. What had I done? Inviting Corban over for dinner was a lot like a date.
Did I want it to be a date?
I didn’t know anymore.
He’d started as my nemesis. And in a moment of weakness—a hot, lust-filled moment of weakness—I’d slept with him. A man I hadn’t even liked. Now? Things had changed between us. I had to acknowledge that. We weren’t enemies anymore.
We’d become friends in addition to being coworkers. And coworkers who were also friends could certainly have dinner together, particularly if it gave them a chance to analyze important study data.
There was nothing more to it than that. I knew what I needed in my life, and it wasn’t dating. I’d already made that decision.
I firmly pushed my feelings aside and went upstairs to the lab, focusing instead on a dinner menu.
26
Corban
“Sex is always about emotions. Good sex is about free emotions; bad sex is about blocked emotions.” Deepak Chopra
Hazel answered her door wearing an apron with little cookies on it. Her hair was up, and she had a spot of flour on her nose.
She couldn’t have been any cuter.
“Hello.” She adjusted her glasses. “I’m running a little behind.”
“That’s okay.”
Stepping back, she pushed the door open wider. “Come in.”
“Thanks.”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep myself from grabbing her and kissing the fuck out of her. I wasn’t quite sure if that was why she’d invited me over. Obviously, I hoped so. But she might have actually meant it when she said she wanted to work on the motion capture study.
Plus, if she was cooking—and something in her kitchen smelled amazing—I knew it would upset her if she burned it. Even if it was because I’d ripped her clothes off and buried my face between her legs.
So I held back—squashing the urge to pull her against me and taste those sweet lips—and followed her inside.
Her apartment was exactly like I’d pictured. She had a couch and an armchair with a blanket draped over it. A round table with four chairs next to the kitchen. Two bookshelves, and I could decipher her organization system at a glance. Her books were neatly sorted by category, then alphabetically by author. A short hallway had three doors—bedroom, bathroom, and maybe a closet.
The colors—mostly earth tones—all matched, and every inch looked tidy. Not just clean, but precise, like she’d put everything exactly where she wanted it.
All so very Hazel.
“You can have a seat.” She gestured to the couch. “I just need to finish in here.”
“Need any help?”
“Thank you, but no.”
She went into the kitchen and I glanced around again. There was a pair of running shoes by the door and several books about marathon training on her coffee table. I wasn’t usually so aware of my surroundings, but this felt like getting a glimpse of a superhero’s secret lair. This was her home. Where she took off her shoes—and her clothes, but I was trying not to get into that—and put her feet up. Where she ate and slept and relaxed and lived.
Did it always smell so good? It wasn’t just the food she had cooking, although that was making my stomach growl and my mouth water. Beneath that, it smelled like her, and it was oddly relaxing.
I took a seat on the couch, once again admiring her precision. My mouth turned up in a grin and I scooted the table lamp an inch to the side, just to see if she’d notice. I couldn’t resist.
The fattest cat I’d ever seen ambled down the hall. He stopped to stretch, arching his back. Or at least, he was probably arching his back. Cats usually did, but it was hard to tell what this one was doing beneath the enormous amount of gray fur.
The cat’s head swiveled toward me. He had long whiskers and a flat face. He yawned, then seemed to decide he needed to come inspect his owner’s guest. Between his long fur and considerable girth, I could barely see his legs. He was like a big, poofy ball of gray, shuffling across the room toward me. He plopped down next to my foot and sniffed my pants.
“Hi, kitty.” I reached down and scratched his head.
“That’s Erwin,” Hazel said from the kitchen entrance.
I chuckled. “Erwin. I get it. Erwin Schrodinger. Schrodinger’s cat. That’s funny.”
“It is funny. But no one ever gets the joke.”
“Really?” I kept petting him. He allowed it. His soft fur was perfectly groomed—not a single mat. Impressive, considering the thickness of his coat.
“You’re the first person to both understand and find amusement in the reference.” She tilted her head, a little smile crossing her lips. “He likes you. He’s waiting for you to pick him up and put him on the couch.”
“He won’t jump up?”
“No, he can’t make it anymore.”
I chuckled again. “Erwin, I know your mommy’s a good cook, but if you can’t jump up onto the couch, you’re probably eating too many cookies while she’s at work.”
“It’s not his size that prevents him from jumping onto the couch. He’s just getting older.”
“Are you sure? Because he’s huge.”
She crossed her arms. “He’s just fluffy.”
Raising my eyebrows, I put my hands around his middle and lifted him onto the couch next to me. He was very fluffy, she was right about that, but he had to weigh twenty pounds. “Holy crap, Hazel, he’s heavy.”
“He’s not that heavy. And he’s perfectly healthy.”
I smoothed down his fur as he settled onto the cushion, looking like a gray blob of fur with ears and a flat face. “He’s definitely a happy cat.”
“Precisely,” she said, her tone decisive, and went back into the kitchen.
“What do you think, Erwin?” I lowered my voice and kept petting him. “Did your mommy really invite me over to discuss study data?”
Erwin closed his eyes.
“I didn’t think so.”
Hazel came back out, pulling her apron over her head. “Dinner’s ready.”
“It smells amazing.” I stood, but glanced at Erwin, still on the couch. “Can he get down by himself?”
“Oh, yes, he’s fine.”
The table was already set for two and I helped Hazel bring dinner from the kitchen. She’d made chicken in a lemon cream sauce with pasta. I couldn’t wait to dig in.
We sat down and dished up. The food was delicious. I didn’t get home-cooked meals like this very often and I devoured two helpings in the time it took Hazel to eat one.
Love According to Science Page 19