Not cool, man. Clearly, I’m broken.
The silence stretches on for a moment longer as both Connor and Penelope stare at me. My inner oh shit meter dings wildly like a winning slot machine in Vegas.
My heart thumps hard, and my voice has fucking vanished. Say something, dude.
“I’ll do it,” I finally mutter.
My roommate rises briefly from his spot on the couch to give me an appreciative thump on the shoulder. “Thanks, Wolfie. I’ll owe you one.”
I nod and meet Penelope’s eyes. They’re shimmering with something I can’t quite decipher.
For a minute, I think I’ve done the wrong thing by offering to escort her. I know nothing about the event, after all. But then Penelope’s full, pink mouth breaks into a happy smile.
“It’s a date,” she murmurs, still grinning at me with those mesmerizing eyes locked onto mine.
My stomach flips. “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.”
Fuck. What did I just agree to?
But the chance to see Penelope smile again? It’s a no-brainer, even if it costs me my sanity.2* * *PENELOPE“Good morning, Penny!”
On the list of people I’m willing to talk to first thing on a Monday morning, my coworker Spencer is at the very bottom. Right beneath pushy telemarketers and the majority of my ex-boyfriends. I’ve barely hung up my coat and settled at my desk when his loud, nasally voice cuts through the air for the second time.
“I said, good mooorning, Penny.”
I’m normally a pretty patient person, but with Spencer, all that flies out the window. I don’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s that he slacks off ninety percent of the time while I bust my butt for this company. Or maybe it’s the fact that he gets away with it, thanks to a little thing called nepotism. It could even be the annoying detail that, despite me telling him multiple times that I go by my full name, he’s insisted on calling me Penny since my first day on the job.
Spoiler alert—it’s all three.
“Morning, Spencer,” I finally grumble back, wiggling my mouse to wake my computer from its weekend-long nap.
Unlike some people, I prefer to get straight to work in the mornings and not waste my time on small talk. Plus, I have a lot to get done before our work retreat this weekend.
My fingers fly across my keyboard, typing in my password and booting up my computer for the day. But I barely get a chance to open my email before an uneasy feeling in my gut tells me I’m being watched. I swivel my chair around, and sure enough, Spencer is peeking over the side of my cubicle, his big stupid eyes staring me down.
“Aren’t you going to ask how my weekend was?”
Ugh. What is the office policy on bopping this guy down like a Whac-A-Mole? If he weren’t my boss’s nephew, I might give the idea some honest consideration. Instead, I draw in a slow, measured breath and plaster on the biggest, fakest smile I can manage. You know, like the professional I am.
“Of course, Spencer,” I say through clenched teeth. “How was your weekend?”
He shrugs. “Fine.”
I blink at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something else, something worth nagging me to ask him about. But he just stares back at me in silence, not so much as a how about you? in return. I heave a sigh, turning back to my computer. If this is any indication of how this Monday is going to go, an emergency vanilla latte may be in order.
“Morning, Penelope.”
The low, familiar voice of my boss, David Douglass, rumbles from behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against my cubicle, sipping from his LIKE A BOSS coffee mug. Spencer gave it to David for his birthday last month, and I’ve rarely seen him without it since. It’s a surprisingly goofy mug for someone as serious as him.
“Good morning, David.” This time, my smile isn’t so fake. I like David just fine. Although I’d like him a whole lot more if he’d give me this promotion I obviously deserve instead of handing it over to his deadbeat nephew. Fingers crossed.
“Are you ready for the retreat this weekend?”
“Ready as I can be,” I say. “I’m not much of a wilderness person, but I’m excited to learn.”
Whoever had the idea that we should have a formal business conference at a wilderness retreat is delusional, in my opinion, but I guess that’s what happens when you work for a company run by ninety percent men. If learning to take down a few clay pigeons is what it takes to show my boss I can keep up with the senior consultants, consider me ready for the challenge.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” David says, then takes a long, slow sip of his coffee. “And if you need any pointers on anything, you can always ask Spencer.”
