Page 199

Declan snorted. “He’s being facetious, Hen.”

“Oh, because my admirer’s dropping off deliveries.” I leaned over my cubicle and flicked Jacob on the shoulder. His eyes crinkled with his grin, which brought out his pretty cheekbones. My friends had some gall being straight and attractive while I was horny and single. “Whatever. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

Maybe I wouldn’t be so single once I did.

“I believe in you,” Jacob teased.

“Yes, yes, strike the bastard dead,” Declan said, his focus on his computer again.

“I want to date him, not murder him.”

“What if he’s a serial killer?” Declan asked. “You’ll be an episode of some murder podcast titled The Chocolate Admirer.”

“I’m sure your secret admirer isn’t a serial killer,” Jacob reassured me.

“I’ll stick with my list, thank you very much.” I leaned back in my chair. Jacob and Declan both settled into their work, and I picked up the note. Anticipation prickled through me. The first few were ones I’d tucked right into my wallet, wanting to savor them as much as the chocolate. The messages weren’t trite and suggested someone who had at least had a few interactions with me.

Which narrowed down the contenders for sure because we worked in a pretty damn large office.

I unfolded the note.

You brighten up every room you’re in.

My chest glowed with warmth, and I clutched the paper as if I could soak the phrase into my bones. Most days, my inner monologue was more on the snarky, self-loathing side, so this would get me through some of my darker spells.

Time to get to work.

ChapterTwo

Lunch couldn’t come soon enough. I was determined to get to the bottom of who my admirer was, and Steve from marketing always hung out in the main break room at the same time as me. We’d caught up quite a few times, mostly discussing the gay club scene in Philly, since we’d even run into each other at certain ones. I wasn’t as dedicated to going out as he was, but when I was in a dry spell, it usually was my favorite option of finding someone to hook up with.

My palms broke into a sweat as I approached the break room, the noise filtering my way. As much as I could put myself out there on occasion, I never claimed to be smooth. Being the most outgoing guy in the chemical engineering department was like being the best swimmer in the kid’s pool. It didn’t require a lot of effort because you were a freaking adult.

When I stepped into the break room, which was kept in pristine condition, the wall of sound hit me first. Apparently, everyone had decided to eat here today. The big open room with paste white walls and equally white tables could hold a lot of people, but with our hybrid schedule and the general preference to grab lunch out, the break room was never this cram-packed.

Declan and Jacob sat at the table we usually nabbed. Normally, I’d beeline toward there, like high school all over again. However, today I had a different quarry.

Steve stood on the other side of the break room, put-together as usual with his slicked-back brown hair and clean-shaven face. He was deep in conversation with two other people from marketing, although I couldn’t place their names. Both of the girls he talked with were notorious gossips, though. Ugh. My stomach flipped. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to ask him.

Except Steve broke off from his conversation and strode to one of the industrial fridges along the side wall.

Okay, now or never.

I quick-walked over to the fridge, my mind whirring for topics I could somehow pivot back to chocolate and secret notes. My brain was mostly full of the Mr. Rogers documentary I watched last night, which wouldn’t help me with small talk right now. Meow-meow chocolate, meow-meow.

Steve shut the door of the fridge right as I came to a halt in front of him.

He passed me a quick grin. “Hey, Henry. How’s it going?”

The curve of his lips was attractive, but I didn’t know if he smiled at me to be polite or out of interest. Panic signals flared in my brain, and all semblance of coherency evacuated.

“Don’t you just love raspberry?” I blurted out.

Oh no, that was terrible.

Steve stared at me like I was a crazy person. To be fair, the statement had come out of nowhere.

“Like, best flavor ever, right?” I continued to dig my own grave. This was the opposite of smooth.