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“Boss Lady!” he gasped, eyeing me from my damp hair to my shoes, and the grin that spread across his face was downright salacious.
“You hussy.”
“Shut up.” I giggled.
“Oh no, ma’am. You don’t get to ‘shut up’ me. That man came tearing out of here last night like his ass was on fire, and I covered your shift this morning, so I am owed details.”
“You’re owed nothing. You sold me out.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “I facilitated you getting your man, thank you very much.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Why are you even down here?” he asked. “I told him I had it covered. I got the donuts out, Hannah’s on the register, we’re fine.”
“Interviews,” I reminded him.
He blinked. “Shit. That’s today?”
I wasn’t surprised he’d forgotten. Hell, I’d forgotten too, which was exactly why I was standing there in jeans, an Ella Langley tee, and my pink Converse with my hair still wet. I’d rushed to wash the smell of sex off and barely managed to make it down here in time.
“That’s today.”
Pushing through the swinging door, I grabbed my stack of résumés off the shelf under the register—printed by me, highlighted by Ian in three different colors for what he deemed important—and headed for the table in the corner.
The first candidate arrived at one.
Kyle was twenty-two, and according to his résumé he’d worked at a bakery in Chesterfield for two years.
“So what’s your favorite thing to make?” I asked.
“Honestly?” He shrugged. “I mostly did the drive-thru window.”
I kept my face neutral. “Okay. Have you ever laminated dough?”
“Like… with a laminator?”
I thanked him for his time.
The second candidate was Brenda, a lovely woman who had worked in a hotel kitchen for fifteen years. I was ready to hire her on the spot until I mentioned the hours.
“Three a.m.?” She laughed. “Oh, honey, no. I don’t do anything before ten.”
Yeah. No.
I was two for two and starting to spiral when the bell over the door jingled and a woman stepped inside, clutching a folder to her chest like a shield.
She was maybe thirty. Dark auburn hair pulled back in a low bun, a cardigan buttoned all the way up to her neck, and vibe that screamed she’d spent a long time trying to take up as little space as possible.
Her eyes swept the room until they landed on me.
“Are you Joy?”
“That’s me.”
She crossed over, and I saw her hands were shaking. “I’m Jane Smith. I’m sorry, I’m a little early. Cleo said—Cleo Lord? She said you were hiring, and that I should just come by.”
Oh.
