“I’m working.”
“You’re always working. Open the gift, appreciate the love, and then you can go back to being a grouch.” He leaned against my desk, clearly settling in for a show.
With a sigh, I pulled the box closer and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in pink tissue paper, was a small book.
“Jokes for Those Unfortunate Enough to Have a Sense of Humor Drier Than the Sahara Desert: A Comprehensive Guide to Making Others Laugh (Even When You Don’t)”
I stared at it.
Lucas peered over. “Oh, that’s perfect. That’schef’s kissperfect. Who got you? Do you know?”
I ignored him, too busy fighting the smile that was trying to force its way onto my face. Someone thought my humor was dry. And instead of being insulted or trying to change it, they’d leaned into it. Like the person accepted it was part of who I was and not a flaw to be fixed.
I traced the embossed title on the cover and nodded.Not bad.
“Dane? You good?”
“It’s fine,” I managed, carefully placing the lid back on the box before Lucas could see my expression. “Tell whoever it is thank you.”
“You know I can’t do that. It’s asecretexchange. The whole point is secrecy. I swear, you never listen to me. Do I need to make you a PowerPoint or something?”
“I know what the point is, Lucas.” I paused. “You like coming to work in costumes.”
He grinned, adjusted his wings, and took a bow. “It’s good for morale.”
“Well, go spread your cheer down the hall,” I said, nodding toward the door.
“With pleasure.” He sauntered out of my office, already calling out to his next victim. “Grant Monohan, it’s time for a visit from Cupid.”
I pulled the book back out of the heart-shaped box and opened it to a random page.
“What do you call someone who’s always negative? A pessimist. What do you call someone who thinks everything is terrible? Correct.”
I snorted despite myself.
I looked up to see if Ina had managed to get her gift unwrapped. And yep. She did. She was holding a black stapler. My eyes drifted to the exact same stapler on the corner of my desk. The damn thing had clearly come from the supply closet. Even worse, it was completely at odds with everything else on her desk.
Her desk, which she’d carefully curated over the past month with a pink desk organizer, a mug full of colorful pens, and about six different types of sticky notes, all in neon colors.
The stapler looked like it had been dropped there by accident. Or as a joke. A mean one.
I watched Ina turn it over in her hands, clearly trying to figure out if there was something she was missing. Maybe it did something special? Maybe it came with a gift card tucked inside? Or maybe there was a note explaining the sentiment behind it?
But no. It was just a crappy stapler.
Two of the matchmakers walked past her desk on their way to the break room.
“What’d you get, Ina?” one of them asked.
Ina’s face immediately brightened into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “A stapler! It’s actually perfect—mine broke last week and I’ve been meaning to get a new one.”
That was a lie. I’d seen her use her stapler this very morning. Theka-chunkof it had annoyed me, but the intense look of concentration on her face was cute as hell. The tip of her tongue stuck out between her pursed lips as she made sure each staple was perfectly aligned.
Her attention to detail was weirdly sexy to me. She worked like she gave a shit, even for something as simple as stapling packets for a meeting later. It spoke highly of her character.
The matchmakers oohed appropriately and moved on. Ina’s smile faded the second they were out of sight. She set the stapler on the corner of her desk and went back to her computer.
Something hot and uncomfortable twisted in my chest. The same feeling I’d had when I’d seen her at that deli counter, being pushed around and talked over and nearly in tears over trying to order food.
