So I did what I always do, and I stuck my nose into someone’s business when they’re down, and I told Brydie that I’d help Ziggy get a new job. She gave me a copy of Ziggy’s résumé, and I’m looking it over once again while I remind myself that this is not me taking responsibility for a random woman’s life, but instead, offering her an opportunity that will be mutually beneficial for both of us.
Even with theI’m not into youvibes.
That’s not why I’m doing this.
I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do. The fact that she’s pretty and I could listen to her talk about wines for hours despite not liking wine at all is irrelevant.
Beyond the fact that her résumé is impressive and makes her look like a potentially good candidate for what I need.
Or at least not a bad candidate.
It doesn’t actually matter to me that she went to culinaryschool in New York and has a level two sommelier certification. Or that she’s done continuing education, studying Spanish and Italian—makes so much sense now why I couldn’t understand what she was muttering when I went to check on her after I escorted the fuckwanker who cornered her out of the building—or that she spent seven years working for Lusso Cruises.
Despite my first impression of her last night with that chicken, she’s elegant and sophisticated and way out of my league.
Knew that as soon as she stepped out of the restroom ready for work—black pencil skirt, white blouse, black apron, makeup fixed and curly hair tamed.
And then she stood in front of the roomful of Copper Valley’s richest residents, hosting an awards banquet to congratulate themselves for donating to various charities over the year, and she described every wine in a way that made my balls ache and put me under a goddamn spell of wanting to ask questions just to hear her say things likeRhone Valleyandhints of tobaccoandashy soilandparticularly good crop that year.
She’s fancy as fuck.
And now unemployed as fuck.
The unemployed part is the main reason I’m sitting in the parking lot of her hotel, next to her rental car, waiting for her to come out.
I’m not a total creeper—I got her number off her résumé and texted her to ask if we could talk.
Told her it had to be in person because I need to see for myself that she’s okay after letting her down last night.
After it was my fault she got fired.
Partiallymy fault. Not all my fault. Partially. But a crucialpart. I should’ve gone looking for her sooner. When I found her, I should’ve told her someone needed her help.
Not gotten my boxer briefs in a bunch over watching a guy hit on her and make her uncomfortable.
Though it was satisfying to tackle the asshole.
Little gross too, given Ziggy’s method of trying to get him to back off, but satisfying.
It’s a good thing I’m leaving the country soon.
Probably a bad sign I’m still attracted to her despite what she’s demonstrated she’s capable of doing when she’s not interested in a guy.
And there she is, stepping out of the hotel lobby, pulling a suitcase, looking fucking gorgeous.
Her face twists up in anI’m going to pukeexpression that has me wondering again what’s going on with her.
But it could be the weather.
Hell has nothing on the temperatures in Copper Valley today. Whoever gave July permission to exist is an asshole.
I climb out of the air-conditioned interior of my Jeep and grimace myself as the heat smacks me in the face.
Ziggy spots me, and her face goes blank. More pink rises in her cheeks. Much like when I found her in her car last night, she’s in cotton shorts and a casual shirt, though today’s is a pink tank top instead of a T-shirt. Her curly light-brown hair is tied up in a loose bun with wispy, frizzy little hairs standing up all over her scalp.
Ziggy’s hair, zero. Humidity, one.
I take a hit to the chest where my heart lives.
