Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
The man’s face was a double-take and a half, his features put together in such a way that you couldn’t help but drink them in, everything balanced, symmetrical, powerful. Sensual, too, thanks to that mouth. And of course, his dark hair was on the long side of a short cut, the ends brushing his neck, and pushed back off his forehead, and curling, thick and shiny, over his ears.
“Or do we go somewhere else?” he asked.
Oh, I’ve gone somewhere, Lydia thought. And it’s going to get me in trouble with HR.
As she considered all the internal policies she was breaking—and weren’t there some federal laws, too?—she decided that she really should have just rolled over and gone back to sleep when her alarm went off at five a.m. Really and truly.
But thank God for Candy’s coffee.
I—AH, NO.” Lydia stood up and extended her hand over the desk. “I mean, please come in. And meet you. Meet me. Please to.”
Oh, FFS.
“Thanks,” the man said.
It took him two strides to get to her, and his arm was so long, he didn’t have to bend at the waist to take her palm. His grip was firm and strong, and the contact lasted a second and a half, maybe two—yet the warmth lingered as they both sat down. At least for her—
Well. What do you know. She’d never realized that chair on the far side of her desk was dollhouse-sized.
She grabbed her mug and decided Candy was right. She didn’t need the caffeine for sure, but the coffee gave her something to do with her itchy hands.
“So,” she said.
As her mind went blank, she smiled in what felt like a fake way—because it was either that or she giggled: Meeting this man in the eyes created a sixteen-year-old vortex, sucking her back to Justin Bieber crushes and that kid in her math class … what was his name?
“Isaac Silverstein.”
“What?” the man across from her said.
Crap. “I apologize. I’m just making a mental note to call—it doesn’t matter.”
God, those eyes of his were the strangest color she’d ever seen. Something that was both fire and hazel. Something that glowed.
“Anyway, Mr.—I’m sorry, what was your last name?”
“Joseph. But call me Daniel.”
“Right, well, Daniel, our executive director is very busy.” Doing frick-only-knew-what. “But I’ll be happy to give you an overview of the position.”
He shrugged. “I’m just looking for a job—”
Curling up a hand, he covered his mouth as he coughed. Cleared his throat. Coughed again.
“Oh, no—it’s the wipes, isn’t it.”
She clipped the Lysol’s top closed and put the container away. Then she waved her hands over the desktop. When he coughed again, like she’d made it worse, she cursed under her breath.
“I’ll open a window.”
“It’s okay, just allergies.”
“I’d prefer the fresh air anyway.” She cranked the vertical window behind her desk a crack. “I’m a little weird about keeping things clean.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
Turning back around, she rubbed her nose in a show of solidarity even though nothing was tickling or irritated on her face. Then again, her sinuses had probably been fried years ago by that linen-fresh scent.
“I hope that’s better.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, do you want some coffee? I’d be happy to get you some.”
“I try not to touch the stuff.” He coughed one last time. “About two years ago, I went on a health kick and got rid of everything. Except cheeseburgers.”
“A clean liver. I’m mean, not the organ. Like, your life.”
Annnnnnd this was why she studied behavior in other species. ’Cuz she needed tips herself.
“I am now.” He linked his hands and leaned forward, the chair letting out a groan at the load shifting. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I’m not here for long, and maybe that takes me out of the running. I’m a drifter and my employment history is going to show that. But it’s also going to tell you that I’m reliable, I do good work, and I’m not a lot of trouble.”
“How long is not long?”
“I dunno, through the warm season and into the fall. Maybe past the winter, but by next spring, I’ll be moving on. If that makes me unattractive, I understand.”
Even the ugly stick for a week couldn’t get you to homely, she thought.
“Well, we’d certainly rather have someone who’d be willing to stick around, but that’s not a deal breaker. And I’m glad you’re being up front about it. Tell me, where did you last work?”
“Over in Glens Falls, for an apartment complex. And before that it was up in Maine.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “I gave my paperwork to—”
Candy reappeared with a folder, like she’d been listening out in the hall. “His application and his résumé, Ms. Susi.”
As Lydia took what was delivered with a glare, the older woman jogged her eyebrows and took her pink-haired peanut gallery back out front.
When they were alone again, Lydia made a show of looking at what she’d been given. High school education. Handyman jobs, at apartment and condo complexes. An elementary school. A mall in Jersey. No big cities. No jobs that lasted longer than eight to ten months, but no gaps in employment, either.