Page 5 of Make Me Trust Again
I grab my bag and turn toward the door.
But of course, John wouldn’t let me have the last word: “You didn’t need a job when you were with me.”
No, I didn’t.
But I paid the price for my ignorance.
“So, Miss Hathaway, do you have any work experience?” Mr. Larson asks, a lazy smile on his lips.
I try to hold still under his intense, dark gaze, but it’s hard when every instinct in my body is telling me to get the hell out of this room. I thought the lady from HR would be conducting the interviews, but her boss just came out when I got to the office and insisted he would do it himself.
Get a grip, Rose. You need this job.
“Unfortunately, no.” I plaster a big, confident smile on my lips. The one that my mom insisted I should wear at every public gathering when we stood next to my father. “I had to quit college after I got pregnant, and since then, my focus has been on myson. However, I’ve always been a really quick learner, and I’m willing to work hard to learn the ins and outs of this job.”
“Mm-hmm…” Those dark eyes fall on my mouth, and the guy’s tongue darts out, sliding over his lower lip. “I’m sure you are averyquick learner, my dear.”
An uncomfortable shudder goes through me at the innuendo in his voice. The way he watches me makes my skin crawl, and the endearment doesn’t help. Still, I keep my face neutral, that fake, pleasant smile on my lips the whole time as I go through all of the reasons why I don’t have the luxury to mess this up.
Ineedthis job. Like, I needed it yesterday. Sure, I have some of my trust fund left, but that will only take me so far, which means finding a job and saving some money so that I can move out of my parents’ house. Not only does Kyle need some sense of stability, but I also need to get the hell out from under my parents’ roof. I’m sick of listening to how I should get back with John.
I won’t be doing it.
No way, no how.
Mr. Larson asks a few more questions, but those eyes keep staring at my mouth, or if not that, my cleavage. The need to tug my dress up and cover myself is overwhelming, but I sit still until he wraps up the interview.
Getting to my feet, I extend my hand for a quick handshake. Only his big, sweaty palm envelops mine, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from visibly shuddering.
“We’ll be in touch, my dear,” he says, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles as his other hand pats my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.
Seriously?
Was I genuinely this desperate for a job?
John’s face pops into my mind, and I force out a fake smile.
“Of course, I’ll be looking forward to it.”
In my nightmares.
Nodding, I tug my hand back; however, before I can get the hell out of there, his hand lands on the small of my back. “Let me walk you out.”
“Oh, that’s really not necessary, Mr. Larson. I’m sure I can manage.”
“Nonsense.” He chuckles. “Such a pretty lady should never walk alone.”
Deciding that fighting him is futile and will take longer, I reluctantly give in.
He chats as we make our way to the parking lot, where I suffer through another meaty arm grab before I manage to slip into my truck. The white Range Rover was a gift from my parents for my sweet sixteenth, something I was grateful for because, at least in that regard, I didn’t depend on John. Tossing my bag on the passenger seat, I start the car and pull out of the parking lot.
The soft country music is playing on the radio as I make my way back to Bluebonnet, my mind still reeling with possibilities.
I donotwant to take this job if it isn’t absolutely necessary. That man was giving me the creeps. Sure, as a receptionist, I wouldn’t work with him, but something told me that wouldn’t matter.
I sent out a few more e-mails earlier today; not an easy feat since Bluebonnet Creek is a small town, and there aren’t many job openings to begin with, especially not for a college dropout who hasn’t-worked-a-day-in-her-life single mom of a six-year-old boy who’s deaf.
Still, I was hoping any of those would get back to me and get back to me fast. I guess I could always search for something else while I worked here.
