“Yeah, same.”
“Anyway, what can I get you?”
“Two cinnamon rolls, please.” “Coming right up.”
She put the confections in a pink to-go box and rang up the total. I paid and thanked her, telling her I’d see her soon.
Outside, I squinted at the brightness and slipped my sunglasses on. It was chilly, but the sun was out, and the blue sky stretched over the mountain peaks, already tipped with white.
A squirrel darted up the sidewalk right in front of me, and I almost tripped. I hesitated in case there were more. Sure enough, three others bounded along, their bushy gray tails bouncing. Their cheeks bulged, stuffed with something. Nuts, most likely. I wondered if they’d just raided enemy squirrel territory. Word on the street was a new feud had been brewing in Tilikum—a battle between squirrel factions, each side stealing the other’s winter stashes.
“Careful out there,” I said to the passing squirrels.
I got in my truck and put the box on the passenger seat. The scent of cinnamon filled the cab and I couldn’t wait to get home and dig into one.
And see the smile on Pen’s face when I showed her my sugary surprise.
I was walking on thin ice with her. Being roommates was great. I had no regrets about that. But things were different, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.
It wasn’t just that she was single now, although the lack of a shitty boyfriend had taken down a very big barrier that had kepther friend-zoned. And while I couldn’t get that night out of my head, no matter how hard I tried, it wasn’t that we’d given in to temptation and slept together.
It was more than that. Living with her meant she wasn’t just my work friend anymore. I saw her every morning, sleepy-eyed and adorable. We hung out during our off-hours. Ate meals together. Ran errands and watched TV. Every night, I watched her go to her room, and a part of me wished she was heading to my bed, not hers.
I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And knowing she was sleeping one room away was turning into a special type of torture. Especially because I’d already had a taste.
When I got home, I brought the cinnamon rolls inside and found her at the dining table with her laptop. She swam in my too-big-for-her hoodie and her hair was up in a ponytail. My mouth turned up in a grin. I probably shouldn’t have enjoyed seeing her in my hoodie as much as I did. But I kind of loved it.
“Penriffic.” I closed the door with my foot and held up the box. “I have a surprise.”
She sat up straighter and peeked over the top of her laptop screen. “Are those what I think they are?”
“If you’re thinking cinnamon rolls, then yes.”
“You’re kidding. I’ve been craving cinnamon rolls.”
“I know.” I set the box on the table. “You said something at lunch the other day.”
Her lips parted and she gazed at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She shook her head a little. “This is really nice. Thank you.”
“No problem. They sounded good to me, too.”
I grabbed a couple plates from the kitchen and poured myself another cup of coffee, then brought everything to the table. Pen clasped her hands beneath her chin and scrunched hershoulders while I lifted each cinnamon roll onto a plate. They were huge—almost as big as her face.
“Oh my gosh, they smell so good,” she said.
I sat down next to her, hesitating while she peeled off a chunk and took the first bite.
Her eyes rolled back, fluttering closed, and she moaned. “Oh, yes.”
Maybe cinnamon rolls had been a bad idea.
My blood ran hot as I watched her, and I was gripped by the desire to lick the cinnamon-laced frosting off the corner of her mouth.
“Have you tried yours yet?” she asked. “This is the best cinnamon roll I’ve ever had.”
