Love According to Science Page 4

  When we got back to my apartment, I let him out. He immediately went to the kitchen and waited for me to give him more cat treats. I indulged him with another small handful.

  “Was that really so bad?”

  He ignored me in favor of wandering over to his cat bed and curling up in a fluffy ball.

  “Well, of course you’re tired, you naughty thing.” I bent over and ran my hand over his soft fur a few times. “I’m meeting the girls for a run. I’ll be home later.”

  He seemed too worn out from his unusually eventful morning to care.

  * * *

  “Hazel, wait up.”

  Slowing my stride, I cast a glance over my shoulder at my friends. Why were they lagging so far behind? I stopped and pressed my finger to my neck, checking my pulse. It was higher than usual. I must have inadvertently increased my pace.

  I waited with my hands on my hips, taking deep breaths.

  “You didn’t say we were sprinting today.” Everly’s voice was slightly breathless. She was dressed in a yellow tank top and gray leggings, her blond hair in a bouncy ponytail.

  “We’re not sprinting.”

  Nora’s eyebrows lifted. Her dark brown hair was in a thick braid and she wore a pink tank top and black shorts that showed off her long legs. Nora always wore the sort of clothes I knew I never could. “Then what was that about? We’re not being chased.”

  “You’re fast when you want to be,” Sophie said. She’d traded her t-shirt and jeans for a tank top that said I run for wine and a pair of black capris.

  “I haven’t run that fast since that time in high school when Toby McDaniel’s mom caught us making out in their hot tub,” Nora said.

  Everly winced. “Wasn’t Mrs. McDaniel the scary substitute teacher?”

  Nora pulled her phone out of her sports bra and swiped the screen. “The very same. She was terrifying.”

  “Did you get away?” Sophie asked.

  “Of course I did. Mrs. McDaniel was scary, but she wasn’t fast.”

  “Apologies for getting ahead,” I said. “I had a burst of energy and took advantage.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. I’d spent most of our three-point-five-mile run unreasonably preoccupied. Despite the trouble he’d given me this morning, my mind wasn’t on my stubborn cat. It was on another stubborn male.

  Corban Nash.

  On his smug smile.

  His surprisingly wide shoulders.

  His deep brown eyes.

  The jolt of electricity I’d felt when he’d shaken my hand.

  The way he—

  No. I needed to stop any line of thinking that involved reaching the conclusion that Corban Nash was attractive.

  He was. But that was beside the point.

  The man was my nemesis.

  “Hazel?”

  I startled, blinking as I pushed my glasses back up my nose. “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sophie asked.

  Her eyebrows were drawn together. As were Everly’s. And Nora’s. All three women eyed me with the same look of concern.

  I could hardly blame them. I wasn’t acting like myself. I hadn’t been since I’d seen that notice on the bulletin board at work yesterday.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I said, straightening my shoulders. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  We walked the rest of the way back to the parking lot where we usually started our runs. I checked my stats on my Fitbit, and we all took a few minutes to stretch.

  “Uh-oh, ladies,” Nora said. “Incoming.”

  Looking up, I paused my analysis of my recent running performance. Four women in matching pink tank tops and pink and gray camo leggings jogged into the parking lot. Their tops read Bedazzled Bitches, the letters outlined in sparkling gemstones.

  “Just ignore them,” Everly said quietly.

  That was easier said than done. The Bedazzled Bitches consisted of two women Nora, Everly, and I had known in high school—and would have preferred to never see again—and two new friends they’d made somewhere in the last dozen or so years since. Bella Ferndale and Drew Browning had done their best to make my life miserable during our teen years, and the two additions to their clique appeared to be cut from the same cloth.

  When we’d first seen them running our route, my curiosity had taken precedence over any hurt feelings from the past. After all, we were adults now. Any so-called mean girl tactics, I thought, had to have been left firmly in the past.

  I’d been wrong. When I’d attempted to ask them a few questions—I was particularly interested in their personality types and the social structure of their group—Bella had called me a freak. Everly and Sophie had been forced to hold Nora back to keep her from engaging in a physical confrontation.

  “Why do they always have to glare at us like that?” Sophie waved her hand in front of her face, as if to ward away a bad smell. “So much negative energy.”

  They were indeed eying us with expressions of undisguised scorn.

  “They lack self-confidence, so they lash out at other women in an attempt to feel better about themselves,” Nora said.

  “That’s very insightful, Nora,” I said.

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “It’s so unnecessary,” Everly said.

  “I agree,” Nora said. “I’m normally not in favor of female rivalries. Women have enough to deal with without being shitty to each other. But those four are the exception.”

  I adjusted my glasses. “Just don’t make eye contact.”

  “Too late,” Sophie said. “I’m sorry—when you said that, I looked. I didn’t mean to.”

  The Bedazzled Bitches, led by Bella, walked toward us with exaggerated hip sways. They stopped in front of us, all striking the same hands-on-hips pose.

  “Have a good run, ladies?” Bella’s eyes flicked to Sophie. “That’s a cute shirt. I didn’t know they made it in plus size.”

  My eyes narrowed at the attempted insult to Sophie’s body type. She was curvier than me, but perfectly healthy, not to mention beautiful. I opened my mouth to reply, but Sophie beat me to it.

  “Thanks, I love this shirt. It’s so hard to find things that fit my chest. But I guess you’d need to have boobs to understand that problem.”

  Bella huffed. It took Drew and their other two minions a second before realization settled in.

  “It’s not her fault her boobs are small,” Drew said. “It’s all the antibiotics or hormones or something. You know, in our food. And she’s getting them fixed soon.”

  “Drew, shut up,” Bella hissed.

  “The presence of antibiotics in animal products is highly unlikely to have any impact on breast size,” I said. “Although there is a case to be made for chemicals in the food supply impacting other aspects of human physical development.”

  Bella rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, is she talking again? Blah blah, science. Whatever.”

  “Hazel, is there any correlation between breast size and brain size?” Nora asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  She clicked her tongue. “That’s too bad. Then the boob job won’t make you smarter. Well, as lovely as this little chat has been, I’m sure you need to go. Looks like it’s time for a new set of Lee Press-On Nails.”

  All four women looked at their fingernails. Nora gave me a little smile and gestured for us to make our exit.

  I put the Bedazzled Bitches out of my mind as we walked across the street to Brody’s Brewhouse. Unfortunately, Corban Nash immediately took their place at the front of my consciousness. Why was I unable to go more than five minutes without him invading my head space?

  Brody’s was a restaurant and bar not far from the apartment building where Nora and I lived—as had Everly, until she’d moved in with her fiancé, Shepherd Calloway. We were frequent patrons because it was casual enough that we could come in immediately after our runs, but still nice enough to have good food. And good martinis.

  Some of the best in Seattle, in fact
.

  We chose a table and took our seats.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Dirty Martini Running Club.” Jake, our favorite bartender, came to our table. He’d given us the name, a commentary on what might be perceived as an inconsistency—women who went running only to consume alcoholic beverages immediately after.

  He probably had a point.

  But our routine also made our running sessions much more fun than if we’d only been focused on fitness. Yes, the fitness aspect was important. We’d all discovered that life after thirty meant making certain adjustments. But none of us particularly wanted one of those adjustments to be fewer martinis. I’d suggested we take up running.

  It was a brilliant plan, as far as I was concerned, and the results were conclusive. We’d all maintained a reasonable level of health and fitness without sacrificing the pleasures of girl talk over an enjoyable cocktail.

  My genius IQ came in handy for practical purposes from time to time.

  “Looks like you had a good run,” Jake said with a smile. “Nora’s actually sweating.”

  “I don’t sweat, I glisten.” Nora’s full lips turned up in a smile. “Although I don’t mind getting a little sweaty in the right situation.”

  Jake just shook his head and took our orders. Nora’s thinly veiled innuendoes never seemed to faze him. And we all knew she wasn’t serious. Although Jake was what most women—including Nora—would consider attractive, he was married, and that was a line none of us would cross.

  Not intentionally, at least. But that was another story.

  Jake took our orders—dirty martinis for each of us, plus our usual salads with grilled chicken. He came back with our drinks a few minutes later.

  “How are the wedding plans coming?” Nora asked.

  Everly’s blue eyes sparkled. It was wonderful to see my friend so happy. “Right on schedule. It’s hard to believe it’s almost here.”

  “It’s going to be amazing,” Nora said. “I’m so excited.”

  “Nora, your prediction that Everly would force us to wear ugly dresses didn’t come true,” I said. “Our bridesmaid attire is very flattering.”

  “That’s because she let me pick the dresses,” Nora said.

  I shrugged. “Still.”

  “We won’t come close to outshining Everly, but we are going to look fabulous,” Nora said. “What about my request that there be hot single men at the wedding?”

  “There should be a few, I guess. But it’s not like I’m going to invite strangers to my wedding just so you might get a date.”

  Nora rolled her eyes. “I thought we were friends.”

  Everly laughed. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do. Sophie, are you bringing a date to the wedding?”

  Sophie was busy trying to tame her unruly locks, smoothing them into a new bun. “No. It would be nice to go with a date, but that would require having a date. That came out weird, but you know what I mean.”

  “I’m attending solo as well,” I said.

  “You’re still on your no-dating kick?” Nora asked. “I have to be honest, I’m surprised you’ve held out this long.”

  “Holding out implies I’m acting against my true desires. I’m not interested in dating, so it’s not a matter of willpower. I’m simply being true to myself.”

  “Good for you,” Everly said.

  “As long as you’re happy, you know I’m happy for you,” Nora said.

  But I had a feeling that Nora didn’t believe I was happy.

  As if I needed a reminder of my singleness—and lack of sexual activity—I felt a little twinge in my lady parts. There was no reason for me to experience even a hint of arousal, but apparently I’d reached a point where my body didn’t require outside stimulation.

  I thought about mentioning it. My friends would no doubt provide a variety of potential solutions. But then Everly asked a question that sent all thoughts of my missing orgasm fleeing from my mind.

  “Hazel, how’s work?”

  My back stiffened. “My workplace is about to be invaded by the enemy.”

  “The enemy?” Nora stirred her martini with the skewer of olives. “That’s… dramatic.”

  “I’m not being dramatic. This is a real problem. My boss hired Corban Nash.”

  “Who’s that?” Sophie asked. “Is he an ex-boyfriend? That would be awful.”

  “No, he’s not an ex-boyfriend,” I said, pulling a face.

  Everly put a hand over her mouth—was she hiding a laugh?—and Nora grinned at me.

  I turned to Sophie before either of them could say anything. “Corban Nash is a charlatan posing as a scientist. And he’s apparently managed to hoodwink my boss, a man I’d previously deemed to be perfectly respectable. Now I don’t know what to think.”

  “Your boss hired Corban Nash?” Nora asked, her lips still curling in a knowing smile. “The guy you’ve been obsessed with forever?”

  “I’m not obsessed with him, and forever is far too long a time period to be relevant. In fact, one could argue that our minds aren’t capable of understanding the concept.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” Nora said. “The man you’ve hated from afar will now be working with you?”

  I took a sip of my martini, as if I needed the alcohol as fortification. “Yes.”

  Nora leaned closer. “Is he hot?”

  I pressed my lips together to stop myself from saying yes. “What he looks like is of no consequence.”

  “He’s hot,” Nora said.

  “No, he isn’t.” Liar.

  Wait, why was I lying to my friends?

  I wasn’t lying. I didn’t think he was hot. Maybe some women would find him attractive. Women who liked his brand of rumpled carelessness coupled with a strong, muscular body. Brown eyes and a dreamy smile.

  Dreamy smile? Who was I?

  “Will it really be that bad?” Everly asked.

  “Yes. The man is single-minded and stubborn.”

  “That doesn’t sound at all like someone else we know.” Nora sipped her martini.

  “I’m not single-minded and stubborn.”

  “Yes, you are.” Nora set her glass down.

  She might have had a small point. “Be that as it may, I suppose the best course of action is to avoid him. That, or make it my professional mission to destroy his research.”

  “Just don’t do anything crazy,” Everly said. “You don’t want to put your job at risk.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything of the sort.”

  Nora and Everly shared a look. I pretended I didn’t catch the meaning behind their glance, but I did. They didn’t believe me.

  I took another drink of my martini. They had no reason for concern. I’d be a consummate professional.

  But if I had the chance to poke holes in Corban Nash’s supposed theory, I was going to take it.

  5

  Corban

  “Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.” ~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

  I pulled the last of the books I’d brought out of the box and set them on a shelf. A new office. A fresh start. This was good.

  Elliott had come by first thing this morning to make sure I was getting settled. He’d given me a quick tour of the building and said a student aide would show me around campus later today. I liked him. I could tell he understood me. A lot of people didn’t, so finding a boss who didn’t change the subject as soon as I started geeking out over statistics was a good sign.

  He’d left me with paperwork for HR and a stack of folders detailing a few of Woodward’s currently-open research studies. I took my seat and thumbed through them. Interesting stuff. A big part of my job was going to be analyzing data from the studies run by Elliott and the other research professors here. I loved numbers, so it was right up my alley.

  But I was also itching to get my own research going.

  I had tons of data to work with already, but as Hazel had unhelpfully pointed out, it was anecdotal. That didn’t make me any less convinced o
f its validity. The next step in gaining widespread acceptance of my theory was to put it to the test in a controlled setting.

  To make that happen, I needed access to resources, and this job was the beginning. I also needed grant money, and Elliott had already given me the go-ahead to work on grant applications. Unlike Ms. Angry Hot Librarian, Elliott believed in my work.

  I sat at my desk and ran a hand through my hair. I didn’t want to think about Hazel, but since Friday, she’d been a constant distraction, tickling the edge of my consciousness. Now that I was here, it was hard to think about anything else.

  Her office was next door, but I hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe that was the problem. I was subconsciously anticipating a confrontation. She didn’t want me here; fine. But Elliott did, and he was the boss. We’d learn to live with each other eventually.

  Maybe.

  Had she stayed home today to avoid me? Was she in Elliott’s office right now making a case for getting rid of me? I heard footsteps in the hallway outside my office and looked up, expecting to see her. Did she always dress like a hot librarian?

  Why did I keep thinking of her as hot?

  A pair of students with backpacks slung over their shoulders walked by. Not Hazel.

  Good.

  Was it good?

  I moved the now-empty box off my desk. Maybe I needed to get our first official meeting as co-workers over with. She could purse those lips and glare at me. Put her hands on her hips.

  Those hips.

  Sexy hips.

  Again with the wandering mind. Sexy? No. Not Hazel Kiegen.

  Then she did walk by.

  Her stride slowed just enough for her to cast me a quick glance. Our eyes met. Hers narrowed and the flickering coal in my gut flared hot. And then she was gone, out of my line of sight.

  Sexy? Yeah, she was. Damn it.

  But sexy or not, Hazel and I weren’t going to get along. She didn’t like me, and the feeling was mutual. I’d just have to keep my distance. Ignore the fact that she was on the other side of the wall.