Page 9 of Butter You Up
Don’t even get me started on soul mates, though. Kit is a hopeless romantic, and by that I mean he falls in love every day and twice on Sundays.
“What makes you think I even like her?” I grumble.
Kit says nothing. He just lifts a finger to my forehead and circles my eyebrows. Kit swears my eyebrows are the most expressive part of me.
He might have a point.
“While she was busy checking out all of this,” His finger now circles my whole body. “I was watching all of this.” It zones in again on my eyebrows.
I decide it’s best to ignore this and pat my jeans pockets, looking for my phone.
Kit rolls his eyes. “It’s up in your office, I’m sure.”
“Anything important enough is happening on the farm,” I grumble, my usual reason for leaving my phone at my desk. That and I work with the bodily fluids of farm animals all day. Besides, most of my notifications are from our social media accounts, and it’s just a reminder of yet another thing I’ve put on the back burner…mostly because I just really fucking hate social media. Any time I try to post something, my captions just sound inane. No one wants to hear about the nitty gritty aspects of dairy farm work, which is what I'm up to my elbows in every day.
“Fine, go do the boring, responsible thing and hire Molly.” He rubs his hands together like a villain. “Time for solitaire.”
I pick up Molly’s resume, folding it in half and tucking it into my back pocket. On the way out, I tap my leg and Trixie jumps back up from her dog bed and follows me out.
When I get to my office, I pick up my phone and dial the first reference.
I chat with a pleasant woman who reminds me of my gran. She owned a stationery store Molly worked at for four months, and when I ask why Molly left, the lady tells me she had to shut down the store. “A Hallmark opened up around the corner, and I couldn’t compete. Plus, my son suggested I move down to California, and I was tired of the winters.”
Next, a guy answers, and I explain who I am and what the job is and ask him about Molly’s employment at his bookstore. “She was an exceptional employee,” he says. “Real passionate about books. Where did you say you were again?”
“Fork Lick, New York.”
There’s a pause. I’m not sure if that’s all he needed to know, so after a beat, I ask him why Molly left.
He hesitates, and that worries me. “She had some personal trouble. Had to turn in her notice. Did she mention her father?”
“No, sir.”
There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “I guess I better call him and make sure he’s okay.”
“Is there anything that would affect Molly’s ability to work?”
“No, no. She’ll do great with customers. I’d hire her again.”
I ask him a few more questions and then say goodbye.
The last reference is Molly’s current job, which she says she does part-time from the van. A woman answers, and everything I ask her checks out—Molly works about four hours a week creating social media content for her van life blog. She is a reliable employee, creative, yada yada.
After we hang up, I lean back in my chair. I’m going to hire Molly, but Kit got in my head, making me think aboutlikingher.
Probably for the best, anyway. Molly’s living at my family’s farm, working for both of us and out of here in three months. Plus, she’s high energy, babbling on and bouncing while she talks.
Perfect for a customer service job. Not for me.
I email her a job offer and, with a shake of my head, leave my office heading for the calf hutches.
Soul mates.
As if I could be soul mates with someone who milks virtual cows, for fuck’s sake.
CHAPTER5
ALEX
