I sigh when I realize she’s giving me the silent treatment. “Can I get you anything before I go?”
“No. But thanks.”
“Evie . . .” My voice is drawn and gravelly, and I clear it, embarrassed.
She glances up at me. “Oh, come on, Brandon. You must be thrilled right now.”
My head spins. I can never keep up with her. “And why would I be thrilled right now?”
She gestures to her legs. “Because I fell. I’m injured.”
I grimace, insulted. “Why would I be happy that you’re injured, Evie?”
“Because you won,” she snaps, looking back at the fire.
Won? What game are we playing now? I wrack my brain for clues.
She sighs when it becomes obvious that I’m lost. “You said you’d wait to hear from me about the job until Friday, and oh—would you look at that.” She glances down at an imaginary watch. “It’s Wednesday. Therefore, you win.”
My heart trips over itself. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?
She frowns when I remain silent, too fearful of saying the wrong thing. Doubt flickers across her face suddenly. “Unless you weren’t being serious about offering me the job?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean yes! I was being serious. Do you—?”
She sighs again, taking pity on me as I fumble to find the right words. “I told Adam that I need time to think.” She looks down at her lap. “But anyway, because of the circumstances, he understands why I couldn’t give him a two weeks’ notice.”
She quit her job. Shequitherjob.
I never thought this day would come.
I’m elated, and the feeling is shameful, considering everything she’s had to go through to get to this point. Again, it isn’t that caregiving isn’t a noble profession—quite the contrary. But there aren’t many career-growth opportunities at an agency as small as her dad’s, and Evie could do so much better than working for minimum wage at a dead-end job that burns her out both mentallyandphysically.
Her nose wrinkles. “Don’t looktoohappy, Brandon. This won’t be a long-term thing.”
“I know.” My heart thumps as she glowers at me. This is really happening. She’s accepting the job.
She wants to be my assistant.
Calm down, Brandon. She hasn’t forgiven you, and she doesn’t want to be your friend.
Yet.Baby steps.
She swallows. “I can’t be your assistant forever.” She shivers like the idea is terrifying. “I just need something less physically demanding until I’m feeling better. So, as long as that’s okay with you . . .”
“When would you like to start?”
She exhales with a relieved smile. “I’m not getting paid to sit around, so I can start whenever you want me to.”
I look her over. I needed help as of last week, but I want her to get some decent rest. “Why don’t you take the rest of the week and the weekend to rest, and you can start on Monday.”
“Okay. Monday works.”
“Would you like me to pick you up?” Seeing as she’s still without a car, and I only live down the road, it makes the most sense to carpool together . . .
Her dark eyes light up with gratitude, and my heart reacts to the wholesome sight. That, friends, is why Genevieve will always be my kryptonite. While she might be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, she is also the humblest, most gracious, genuine person I have ever known. “That would be amazing. Thank you, Brandon. I owe you.”
“No, you don’t.” I rise before I do something stupid—like tell her how excited I am. She’d slap me for my audacity. “I’ll pick you up bright and early Monday morning. Eight a.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”
