I take advantage of the lull in foot traffic on the street to quickly run the vacuum. By the time I’m polishing the steel edges of the counter, my shoulders are starting to ache from tension, and I can’t stop watching the clock. Eleven-fifteen. Eleven-twenty. Eleven-twenty-two.
Aunt Blaire bursts through the front door, a latte in her hand and a scowl on her face. “How dare you!” she shrieks.
She doesn't even notice the two women coming into the store behind her. They hear her outburst and turn right around again.
There's no way to defuse her when she's like this, but I’ll try. "Welcome back. How was your getaway?"
"How was your sleazy date sucking face with some guy in the middle of a restaurant?"
Strangely, the thing I'm most offended about is by calling Knox “some guy”. It gives me the strength to continue standing tall in front of my aunt.
"Whatever you're accusing me of, did you see it with your own eyes?" I ask.
"Of course not. I didn’t need to. Marjorie said that?—"
"You're aware that your friends always embellish things to make a better story, right?"
Her mouth falls open. "Are you calling them liars?"
"Not at all." My hands fly up. "I said that they are interested in a good story."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is…look, I’m sure whatever they told you to get you so riled up was very different from what actually happened. Yes, Knox and I were in the back corner of a restaurant having dinner. Yes, there was a bit of…closeness. But nothing inappropriate."
Okay, that last bit was probably a lie. But after this incredible weekend, my definition of what is and is not appropriate in public may have changed.
"Whatever. Nothing like that is ever going to happen again," she snaps. She punctuates her statement by snapping her fingers in front of my nose. "You represent this family, and you represent the store. So you will never see that man again."
I want to laugh in her face. Want to sit her down with a pen and paper and tell her to draw me a flowchart of exactly how being associated with a Wolfe could possibly be bad for Myer’s Fine Footwear.
Yet there it is again. That…block.The invisible wall. That strange fog of anxiety that prevents me from forming the words I need to speak. It's as if she can sense that I'm suddenly faltering, my knees unsteady.
"I might call your mother about this,” Aunt Blaire says with a smug smile. "For the moment, you'll be working extra hours since you ignored the fact that I grounded you."
Why do I already know that those hours will be without pay?
When Mom set me up with this job, she raved about how much money I would be making to save for school, since I’d be getting free room and board. She doesn't know that my rent has been deducted from every paycheck, plus I'm only at minimum wage.
And yet, I still can't manage to tell my mother the truth.
"Not in the mood to sass back anymore?" she snaps. "Good. You can work this afternoon by yourself. I'm going to go unpack and do laundry." She pauses in the doorway. "If I hear one more word about you and that Wolfe boy together, I'll send you home to your mother. You'll never see him again. You won’t even be able to escape reality with your precious books."
My heart sinks as the door swings closed. Although I honestly don't care what my family thinks at this point, Knox’s family would probably be mortified if they knew he had allowed a woman to move in with him after knowing her for less than a week.
So I’m stuck squirming under Blaire's thumb, fighting to keep a job I don't want so I can stay in West Stoneburg for a while longer, hoping beyond hope that these enormous feelings I have for Knox are the same on his side.
And hopefully…permanent.
13
KNOX
I've never had a day job.
I work because I want to. Feeling useful is important. Hard work is deeply satisfying. Like right now, cleaning up after staining six new tables.
Still, I don't have firsthand experience regarding regular jobs. I assume that some people don't have their phones on them constantly.
