Then there was the other one. Tall, dark hair, quiet. Lincoln I think? I don’t know for sure because he either kept to himself, or just talked to Maverick every time I’ve seen them.
“You haven’t met him yet. You met Maverick and Lincoln,” Sophie clarifies.
I stay silent for a moment, considering my options. Her niece is super cute from what I’ve seen in photos, and from what I heard, she’s a really good kid.
“Hmmm.” I hum, “He’s already agreed to this?” I ask skeptically.
“Well… no. I haven’t told him yet. I wanted to get you on board first. I’m sure he’ll want to meet with you. He’s kind of desperate, and this is perfect timing! You just lost your job–”
I wince. The reminder still stings.
“And Wes just lost his nanny for Lilah. I mean, if that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.”
Well, I don't know about that. I’d like to think getting fired wasn’t some predetermined event by the universe, but what the hell do I know? I moved here for a fresh start, and I had that when I got hired at Canyon Creek Middle School. Teaching wasn’t quite the dream I thought it would be, but at least I was using my degree. Then I lose my job…and this opportunity gets dropped in my lap.
I nibble on the edge of my thumb and mull it over. If I were to get hired by Sophie’s brother, I would have way more free time than I ever did teaching. For the last two years my nights have been swallowed by planning lessons and grading papers, leaving virtually no time for anything I truly enjoyed. If this happened, I could spend my nights doing whatever my heart desired.
Then it hits me like a damn freight train.
I could start writing again. Evenings and most weekends would be completely free.
Holy shit.
A spark of excitement lights in my chest, and suddenly, I know exactly what I want to do.
“Ivy?” Sophie calls out after I’ve been silent for longer than what is normal.
“Alright, I’m in,” I reply, the confidence seeping out of me now.
“Yes!” she shouts back.
Hell yes.
————
I finish buttoning up my white dress shirt, and debate tucking it into my black slacks, or leaving it out.I doubt I’ll have to dress like this if I get the job, but I refuse to go to an interview in something unprofessional. Though normally I go bare-faced, I decided to wear minimal makeup, just some mascara with a bit of concealer and blush—just enough to look put together. I slip on my cleanest sneakers, grab my purse and keys and hurry out the door. I’m not late, but I want to be at least ten minutes early.
I wrench my car's door open, the hinges creaking loudly, and toss my stuff in the passenger seat. After I close the door I double check the location Sophie texted me. It’s a Cafe I’ve been into a few times before, so I won’t have an issue getting there.
After a quick drive, I pull into a spot just outside The Creek Cafe. I really should come here more often. It’s a cute building, with exposed brick and flower boxes lining the storefront. The A-frame chalkboard sign out front lists their specialty drinks and fresh baked goods they offer, making it every inch the small town cafe.
I rest my hands on the steering wheel, and take a deep breath. In for four, hold for four, out for four. I repeat affirmations about confidence and kicking ass until my nerves somewhat settle, then get out and enter the coffee shop.
Sweeping my eyes across the room, I scan for the man Sophie described.
Messy dark brown hair. Tall. Tattoos. Scowl.
I don’t see anyone of the sort, so I order myself a coffee and grab a table by the window. Iamearly, so I’m not worried. Hopefully this view will make it easy to spot him.
One minute before our meeting time of ten o’clock, a tall figure enters behind a small group of people. His head clears everyone else’s, and I watch as his eyes dart around the room, looking for me, I assume. I can’t see anything but his head, but I’m guessing this mountain of a man is Wes.
Messy brown hair? Check.
Tall? Check.
Hot as fuck? Checkity check.
We lock eyes, and I awkwardly half-stand from my chair and wave a hand at him to signal it’s me he's looking for. His eyes widen the tiniest fraction, then he scoots behind the other patrons in line, weaving through the sea of tables of the cafe until he reaches me.
