Chapter 3 The Proposition #2
Hazel clenched her jaw but said nothing else. She just marched back toward her shop with renewed fury, her broom still gripped in one hand. I was right behind her, my longer stride easily keeping pace.
Together, we burst through the door of The Cocoa Bean. And there he was.
Barnaby sat cross-legged on a stainless steel prep table in the back kitchen area.
He was holding a large piping bag of chocolate ganache to his mouth like it was a drinking horn.
Before my horrified eyes, he squeezed the contents into his face, his expression one of pure bliss.
This creature was the magical equivalent of a world leader, and yet, he was seemingly having a religious experience through chocolate.
The stuff covered his paws. It was smeared across his cheek. It was in his fur.
“Barnaby!” I roared so loudly the display cakes seemed to flinch. “What do you think you are doing?”
Barnaby shrieked, his eyes flying open in terror. He dropped the piping bag, and it hit the floor with a wet splat. “Brok! I-I can explain! The hunger! It called to me! It guided me! It laughed at your tiny car and your celery sticks! I had to listen!”
Fate was mocking me. It had taken the form of this wretched bunny and was thoroughly enjoying my suffering.
“Barnaby, get down from there right now.” I advanced toward him with deadly purpose. “I’ve heard enough excuses. We’re leaving immediately, and it’s HIIT for you all week. Maybe with enough jumping jacks, you’ll forget the taste of chocolate.”
If watching didn’t work, I’d just have to keep him locked in the grove until Easter arrived. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Brok, no!” Barnaby scrambled backward on the table, creating an even bigger mess. “It’s not fair! You’re a monster! A tyrant! A joyless slab of muscle with no appreciation for the good things in life! You can’t deny me my chocolate!”
“I can, and I will! Right this second! We are done with this foolishness!”
Before I could actually reach my target, Hazel stepped right in front of me. “Okay. Everybody just stop.”
I froze, my determination crumbling in the heat of her glare.
“I thought it was funny before,” she said quietly.
“The stakeout, the accusations, the ridiculous tiny car. But really, seeing this situation with fresh eyes…” She turned away from me, directing her attention to Barnaby.
“Barnaby. Are you okay? And I mean really okay, not just ‘I’m fine’ okay. ”
“I’m so tired, Hazel,” Barnaby offered, letting out a broken whimper that cut straight through my anger. “I’m exhausted. And so hungry all the time. The hunger never stops. It’s like a beast living inside me, and Brok keeps poking it with sticks and expecting it to behave.”
Just like that, the fight went out of me. I surveyed the wreckage. The miserable bunny on the table, the piping bag on the floor, ganache spreading across the tiles. My strict diet, the discipline, the constant watching. All of it had resulted in this. A complete breakdown in Hazel’s kitchen.
I was supposed to be the best. Personal trainer to the elite. And I couldn’t even keep one bunny away from chocolate for three hours.
Hazel leaned against the counter and pursed her full lips, thinking. I tried very hard not to stare at her mouth. I failed spectacularly. “This isn’t right, Brok. Even you can see it. There has to be another way.”
“And what way is that?” The question came out more defensive than I intended, but at this point I couldn’t help myself. “What do you suggest? Because I am open to new ideas if they produce results.”
“I have a proposition,” she said, pointing the broom at me like it were a sword. “You stop with the nonsense stakeouts that terrify my customers. You pay for the ganache that just became floor art.”
I supposed that was the least we owed her. She hadn’t asked to be robbed by the Easter Bunny or to have her kitchen turned into a disaster zone. “Agreed. I will pay for all damages.”
“Excellent. Now for the important part.” She stepped closer, leaning into my space with a courage that defied sanity. “You stop treating Barnaby as if he’s a disobedient soldier. And I become his nutritionist.”
For several seconds, I thought I’d heard wrong. My brain couldn’t process the words in any logical order. “Excuse me?”
“I will design the menu.” The confidence in her voice suggested she’d already thought this through and knew exactly what she was doing.
“High protein. Good carbs. Whatever numbers you’re obsessed with tracking.
I’ll hit every single one of your targets.
But I will make it taste good. Actually good.
I will trick his brain, and yours, into thinking you’re cheating on the diet.
But you won’t be. Everything will be healthy. ”
“Impossible.” I shook my head hard enough to make my neck crack, already rejecting the entire premise. “Healthy food means punishment. That is the law. If it tastes good, it’s bad for you. If it’s good for you, it tastes like sadness and regret. That’s just how it works.”
Hazel tilted her head back to meet my eyes, her expression absolutely fierce. “Don’t insult my skills, meathead. I can do things with cocoa powder and avocado that would make you weep.”
The air in the kitchen suddenly felt very hot, as if we were standing next to an active oven. “Make me weep?”
“Weep. Beg. Whatever emotional response you muscle-bound people have.” She didn’t back down even a centimeter, her green eyes locked on mine. “I will exploit it mercilessly.”
I glanced at Barnaby, seeking some kind of backup, some support for my position. He gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up with his chocolate-covered paw, clearly having already chosen sides in this battle. “Do it, Brok. Let the woman cook. Let her work her magic. I’m begging you.”
I studied Hazel again. Her determined eyes, the set of her shoulders, the absolute conviction in her face. She smelled heavenly, even as she looked at me like I was an idiot. In that moment, I knew I was outmatched.
This was not a battle I could win through traditional means.
“Fine.” The word came out before I could stop it, though part of me was screaming that this was a terrible idea.
I pointed a finger at her, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.
“But I supervise. I watch every ingredient. I check every measurement. No hidden sugars. No sneaky additions. No tricks. Complete transparency.”
“Deal.” Hazel smirked, and it was the smile of someone who knew they’d already won. “Now get out of my kitchen before I make you mop the floor. And take your chocolate-covered brother with you.”
When she stepped out of my way and pointed toward the door, I didn’t need to be told twice. I scrambled toward Barnaby with a disappointing lack of grace. Grabbing him by the back of his stained sweater vest, I hauled him off the table. He didn’t even have the decency to look anything but pleased.
As I reached the door, I realized I could still feel the phantom pressure of Hazel’s gaze on my back. And for the first time in my life, I wished I didn’t have to hide behind the fiction of being a normal, human personal trainer.
I wished I could tell her the truth about what I really was. Brok the Orc.
But that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?