Chapter 4 Taste Test #2
Barnaby had already demolished both of his and was staring at the box with the kind of desperate longing usually reserved for lost loves and discontinued menu items. His eyes were actually glistening.
“Can I have these every day? For the rest of my life? I’ll do anything.
Extra training, extra cardio, I’ll run marathons, just please—”
I watched Brok struggle. Actually watched him search for criticism that refused to materialize. The silence stretched long enough that I started to wonder if he’d simply given up on speech entirely.
“Well?” I couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice. Victory tasted incredibly sweet. Possibly sweeter than the protein bites themselves. “What’s wrong with these? Too round? Too brown? Not sufficiently punishing?”
His ears went red. Actually, genuinely red, like someone had painted them. “They’re fine.”
“Fine.” I wrote that down with deliberate emphasis, making sure the pen scratched loudly against the paper. “So you’ll let me make these for him?”
“Yeah.” The word came out grudging, reluctant, as if it physically hurt to admit defeat. He was still frowning, clearly annoyed that he couldn’t manufacture a complaint. “How many?”
“I can do three dozen a week without any trouble.” I set down my pen and watched his face carefully for signs of the inevitable objection. “I’ll have them done on Tuesdays. Just drop by and pick them up. No charge.”
His head snapped up fast enough that I heard his neck crack. “What?”
“No charge,” I repeated, keeping my arms crossed. “I offered to help Barnaby. That’s what I’m doing. Helping.”
Something complicated crossed his face. If I hadn’t known any better, I might have called it respect. Or maybe… Something more? “You don’t need to—”
“I know I don’t need to.” I cut him off.
I didn’t dare to analyze that look too closely.
“I want to. Barnaby deserves something that makes him happy instead of just fueling him like a machine. So I’ll make them, you’ll pick them up, and you’ll let him eat them without threatening marathon training sessions. Deal?”
He stared at me for a long moment, clearly trying to identify the trap. Finally, he extended his hand across the counter, the gesture stiff and formal. “Deal.”
I took his hand. His palm completely dwarfed mine, callused and warm and careful. Our hands stayed connected a fraction too long, his thumb brushing against my wrist before he pulled away.
Barnaby had somehow acquired three more power bites and was eating them with focused intensity. Cocoa powder dusted his nose and glasses like he’d face-planted into a bowl of the stuff.
He reached for another one and popped the whole thing into his mouth. His cheeks bulged like a chipmunk who’d just discovered premium acorns.
The overhead lights flickered briefly.
Barnaby’s eyes went wide. He grabbed at his throat. A harsh, panicked choking sound emerged that made my stomach drop.
Brok moved so fast he practically blurred.
One second he was sitting on the stool. The next he was behind Barnaby, arms wrapped around his small frame, fists positioned precisely below the ribcage.
He pulled upward in one sharp, practiced motion.
The power bite shot out of Barnaby’s mouth and landed on the counter with a soft thud.
Barnaby gasped, sucking in air with ragged, desperate breaths. His whole body shook as he coughed. “Easy. Slow breaths.” Brok’s hands moved to Barnaby’s shoulders, steadying him. “You’re okay. Just breathe. Nice and slow. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Well. That had been exciting in a way I could have done without.
My heart was beating faster than usual. Brok had handled the crisis so efficiently it barely qualified as an emergency, but it had still been a shock.
I made a mental note to add ‘smaller bites’ and ‘please chew your food’ to my safety disclaimer, possibly in all caps.
Also, perhaps I needed to check my wiring. I’d never had a problem with electricity in this building, but it always paid to be careful.
Barnaby straightened slowly, still coughing but breathing normally. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I always do this, I ruin everything—”
“You’re fine.” Brok squeezed his shoulders, firm and reassuring. “You’re okay. That’s what matters. Just slow down next time.”
“I ruined the whole tasting.” Misery colored every word, making him sound younger than he was.
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Brok guided him back onto the stool with careful hands, treating him like something precious that might break if handled too roughly. “Sit down. Drink some water. Slow sips. We’re not in a hurry.”
He handed over the water glass, then watched Barnaby take a small drink with complete focus. His jaw was tight, shoulders still tense even though the crisis had passed.
I watched him hover over Barnaby and noticed things I hadn’t paid attention to before. He loomed over Barnaby, but not in a suffocating way. Almost… protective.
Amidst all the chaos of Barnaby’s diet, I hadn’t really understood his reasoning. But now I did.
“You really take care of him.” The words came out before I could stop them.
Brok’s hand stilled on Barnaby’s back. “He’s my brother.”
“I know. But still… It’s nice to see.”
It was. Before, he’d been a hot bodybuilder and I’d wanted to prove him wrong and help Barnaby. Now… Well, I couldn’t help but feel there was something more to him than just that. Than… looks.
Brok’s ears went red again, the color spreading down his neck. He pulled his hand back from Barnaby’s shoulder like he’d been caught doing something embarrassing instead of something kind. “Someone has to make sure he doesn’t choke on his own enthusiasm.”
“Hey,” Barnaby protested weakly, but he was smiling now. “I have some self-preservation instincts. Just not very many. And they don’t work particularly well around chocolate.”
“Clearly not.”
“He’s lucky to have you looking out for him.” I meant it completely, every word.
Barnaby nodded, and he looked almost as enthusiastic as he did about my truffles. “I am. Very lucky.”
The sound of a phone echoed in the kitchen, shattering the moment. Brok reached into his pocket and glanced at the screen.
I didn’t know why, but I found it rather strange to see him hold a device. It looked almost dwarfed in his massive hand, as if he would crush it then and there.
He stepped toward the back door, phone already pressed to his ear. “What?”
I couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but I watched his shoulders tense with annoyance rather than alarm.
His jaw tightened. He rubbed his free hand over his face in obvious frustration.
“When?” A pause while he listened, his frown deepening with each passing second. “I’m busy. You know that.”
The person on the other end of the line said something else. Brok grimaced. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
He ended the call, and the phone disappeared back into his pocket. “I’m sorry, Hazel, but we need to go. Work meeting.”
“Now?” Barnaby looked genuinely disappointed, his gaze drifting longingly toward the box of remaining power bites. “But we just got here. Can’t we stay a little longer? I wanted to—”
Brok shot him a look, and Barnaby’s mouth snapped shut. Clearly, he didn’t want his brother to get in trouble at work.
I didn’t, either, but that didn’t mean I was willing to let today’s meeting go to waste. I grabbed a bakery box from under the counter and quickly filled it with a dozen power bites, my hands moving on autopilot. “Here. Take these with you.”
Barnaby smiled at me, his big eyes barely visible from behind his cocoa-stained glasses. Brok just bowed, an almost too-formal gesture that made my stomach flutter. “Thank you, Hazel. I’ll be in touch about picking up more.”
With that, he took the box, already herding Barnaby toward the door. Then they were gone, disappearing into the darkness outside. Through the window, I watched them head down the sidewalk toward wherever they’d parked.
All the while, I couldn’t stop thinking about that gap between who Brok tried to be and who he actually was.
The stubborn trainer who’d spent an hour rejecting perfectly good desserts for crimes like ‘tasting too good’.
The terrified brother who’d moved faster than physics should allow, just to save his helpless sibling.
With every moment that passed, Brok became even more interesting. And despite my best attempt to stay professional, I couldn’t keep myself from wanting him.