Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“So you’re computer guys,” she says slowly, like she doesn’t quite know how to fit that into her picture of us.
Dillon gestures between us with his fork. “Genius, genius, grumpy genius. We make a good team.”
Boone grunts. “He’s not wrong.”
She tilts her head, studying us with a cautious curiosity before she tucks her hair behind her ears and picks up a fork. “Have you always lived out here?”
“No,” I answer. “We grew up in Chicago, but we’ve been here a few years and it’s a good life. I don’t see us leaving anytime soon.”
She looks around the room again and then smiles. “With a house like this, I wouldn’t want to leave either.”
After poking at her food for a moment, she casually adds, “You don’t happen to know if anyone in the area is hiring? I might stick around for a while myself and I’ll go nuts if I’m just sitting around the cabin all day long.”
The question lands like a rock smacking into the center of the table. Boone’s hand freezes halfway to his beer and Dillon stops chewing mid-bite. I meet both their eyes, that silent exchange we’ve had a hundred times over the years sparking between us again.
She wants a job. We need someone to handle the mountain of data entry we keep putting off.
I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay even as my heart starts banging in my ears. “Actually, we might have something. Have you ever worked in data entry before?”
8
DILLON
In the wake of her question, my ears are ringing. Fuck, this just keeps getting better and better.
I have zero idea what the odds are of something like this happening, but I also know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clearly, we’ve done something to make the universe pretty goddamn happy with us lately, and I, for one, will take it.
She blinks a few times. “Some. At the club where I used to work, I did inventory and reports sometimes. I’m fast and I don’t mind repetitive work.”
Her voice carries that city tone, confident and a little defensive, like she’s learned not to let people see too much. I lean back in my chair, snapping into full interview mode even though I already know I want to keep her close.
“What club?” I ask casually, mostly to hear her talk again.
Her eyes flick to mine, the expression in them sharp for a second before she blinks it away. “Just a nightclub. Nothing special, but it was a pretty popular place. Stock moved fast and staff turnover was high.”
An answer that doesn’t give away a single scrap of information.
The deflection is smooth and practiced. I’ve seen that kind of guarded before. Boone had been that way during his divorce. Chance after Afghanistan.
She isn’t just hiding something. She’s protecting herself.
I let it slide, deciding not to call her out or press for more than she’s willing to give. “We mostly just need someone to clean up files, log reports, and keep us from drowning in admin. The pay is decent and the hours are flexible.”
“Wow.” She gives me a small, relieved smile. “That sounds kind of perfect.”
Well, that’s good enough for me.
“Congrats,” I say without even looking at the others. “You’re hired.”
Her mouth falls open. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Her smile is small and tentative, but it reaches her eyes, and damn if that doesn’t light something in my chest I haven’t felt in a long time. “When do I start?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?” Boone asks, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at her.
Those stormy eyes are so intent that, for a beat, I’m worried he might be too intense for her, but she shakes her head and even flashes him another smile. “It’s right on time, actually. I was hoping to find a job before the end of the month. I never would’ve guessed that I’d find one before I even unpacked. Just, uh, you’re not playing with me, right? This is a real job that you actually need someone to do?”
“It’s a real job.” Chance pulls his phone out of his pocket, brings up the contract he’d been drafting, and hands the device over. “You can check the document. It was created almost two months ago.”
As she scrolls, skimming the contents, I see the moment she came across the clause detailing her salary. Her eyes widen a little, and Boone must’ve noticed it too, because he explains.
“We value our privacy and, in our business, discretion is key. You’re going to be working with sensitive information. Nothing too crazy, but you’ll have a fair amount of access to us, our business practices, and our servers. We’re willing to pay for loyalty.”
“I can see that.” She finally passes the phone back to Chance, looking at us a little differently now, like maybe she’s starting to understand that we’re not just three weirdos running around the woods, waiting for any trace of smoke to race to the rescue of damsels in distress. “I guess you really do have a lot of windows, huh?”