Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 70037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
As soon as we both sit, without a word she hands me a few sheets of paper stapled together, and I flip through them. I look over her résumé and work history, a little surprised and worried that she’s applying for a job here and not downtown at one of the big law firms or corporate buildings. Most of her previous work history involves clerical or secretarial work, not baking or even retail.
“Can I ask why you’re applying for this job?” I lift my head to look at her.
“As you can see, I’ve worked in corporate my entire adult life. I did it because it was what I went to school for and what I was supposed to do.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?” I surmise, and she shakes her head.
“I hated every minute of it.” She leans forward. “Can I be honest with you?” Considering what she just said, I thought we were already being honest, so I nod. “I just want to be happy,” she whispers, and my heart clenches in my chest at her tone and the look in her eyes. “A little over a year ago, I left the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and a month ago, I moved here on a whim, needing to be closer to the ocean. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She looks away briefly, seeming contemplative. “I do know”—her gaze comes back to me—“I have always loved baking and cooking. I also know how to manage people and my time, and I’m a quick study. I’m sure, looking over my résumé, you can see I’m probably the least-experienced person for this job, but when I saw the ad, I knew I had to apply and that I’d regret it if I didn’t.”
Her words touch something deep within me, and I study her for a long moment before I speak. “The hours are not set in stone. Sometimes I’d need you here to open early, and other days I’d need you to close. Would you be okay with that?”
“Can I drink coffee on the job and eat a cookie or cupcake whenever I want?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think I’d be okay with that,” she agrees with a soft smile.
Not wanting her to think this will be all cupcakes and sprinkles, pun intended, I tell her, “My two part-time shop girls are both leaving at the end of summer, and until I can hire replacements for them, things might be a little crazier than normal.”
“I thrive on crazy,” she says, and hope blooms in my chest.
“You also might have to work on your own from time to time, depending on the day.”
“If I can handle lawyers and CEOs breathing down my neck day in and day out, I think I can handle that.”
“When can you start?” I ask, surprising even myself.
She sits back, seeming stunned, and then states with happiness in her eyes, “Today? Tomorrow? Really, I’m open to anything.”
“All right, why don’t you come in tomorrow morning at nine? We can see how things go and if this is the right fit for both of us.” I stop, then add, “I’ll of course pay you for the day, even if you decide this isn’t for you.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I nod, and I think she might cry, but she pulls in a breath, and when she releases it I can see she’s got the urge under control.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” I smile. “You might find out tomorrow that you hate it here and wish you’d never applied.”
“I don’t see that happening.” She laughs.
“Me neither,” I agree, feeling hopeful.
I look over her shoulder as the chime for the door rings, letting me know it’s not broken, and I feel my stomach melt as I watch Gaston search for me when he steps inside the shop.
When his eyes land on mine, I smile and scoot back from the table to stand, and then I look down at Anna, whose eyes are pointed over her shoulder. “Thank you for coming in. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine,” I say, and Anna jumps, pulling her eyes off Gaston to look at me, and gets up quickly.
“Nine. Right. I’ll be here,” she repeats, and I almost laugh. I’m not at all surprised that she’s been swiftly sucked into the vortex of Gaston’s hotness, but I’m silently thrilled he hasn’t even spared the gorgeous woman more than a casual glance.
As I walk toward my guy, she starts for the door at my side, and I stop her to make introductions. “Anna, this is Gus.” I glance from her to him. “Gus, this is Anna. She’s coming in tomorrow to see if she’ll like working here.” A look of relief crosses his face before he tips his head down and holds out his hand toward her.
Her cheeks get pink as she reaches out to shake his hand, and her words are mumbled as she says, “Nice to meet you,” making me fight back laughter.