I roll my eyes. The muscle in his jaw pops as he shoots me a disapproving look.
Why is that important?
Leaning my back against the chair, I knit my arms together, mimicking his position. “I know my way around a kitchen.”
“Do you have any questions for me yet?” he asks.
I lick my lower lip in thought.
Yeah, I have a few questions for you. Like, how old are you, and what kid shoved a crayon up your ass?
Before I have time to answer, he says, “No questions? Moving on.” He places his elbows on the desk, folding his fingers together. “What about pot and drug use? Have you used them before? What about arrests?”
Who the hell is this guy?
The water on the stove in my chest boils over and onto the burner. “What kind of question is that?” I snap, pinning him with my stare. “You did a background check, did you not?”
He reclines back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Of course I did,” he counters like I should know the answer to that. “Had to make sure you’re a good girl…” His eyes drop to my chest as his head cocks to the side. “And right for mystudents,” he finishes. “Now answer the question, Miss Meyers,” he says hard-heartedly.
Plan B it is.
I stand up from my seat and step forward, resting my palms on the surface. I lean over, glare down at his handsomely irritating face in those black-rimmed glasses, and gift him with the fakest smile I can manage. “Do you want me to pull down my panties so you can drug test me, sir?”
His muscles harden under his shirt. Alaric’s burning gaze holds mine captive—his eyes appearing like sagebrush in a desert being licked by flames. They send liquid heat rushing between my thighs until it’s an intensity that’s difficult to ignore.
“If you speak to me like that again, I’ll bend you over this desk, rip them off, and shove them in your hot little mouth as punishment for using a tone like that with me.”
My limbs tremble.
I wonderwhat else his mouth could do if it were put to better use.
But I have more self-respect than that. So, I stand up and straighten my posture, giving him a nod. “Thank you for meeting with me about the position, Mr. Sinclair, and hitting me with all those arbitrary questions. But I’m over this conversation and will not beg you for this job.” The confidence stirring in my chest expands. “I hope you’ll have better luck finding a teacher who will drop on their knees for you because. It’s. Not. Me.”
I reach for my purse, not sparing him a second look. But it’s not until I exit his office that I realize I may not have to. With the size of this town, it’s only a matter of time before we see each other again. And if that happens, I only hope our next interaction is a little more pleasant than this one.
FOUR | TARYN
I’ve been zoned out for the past fifteen minutes, my focus not straying from a limp piece of lettuce. Grabbing my fork next to my plate, I flick my wrist, pushing it around.
Well, it wasn’t limp when I ate my house salad, so the fact that it’s floppy is proof of how long I’ve been sitting motionless at this table inside Crocks. Maybe I have some superpower I’m unaware of, and it wilted under the heat of my hellfire stare.
That interview was…unbelievable.
It was one of those moments that felt like a complete and utter blur because my mind was blindsided by how bizarre and nonsensical it was. My mentality still doesn’t know how to process it.
After whipping out of the parking lot, I headed home to let Rossco out. I watched him chew on a stick for a while in the yard and rip it into unbelievably tiny shreds as I attempted to gather my wits so I could make a logical decision about what to do next.
Eventually, my stomach growled with hunger, so I left Rossco in the backyard and changed out of my interview attire. I slipped on a pair of jean shorts, a fitted white tank, and a hunter-green flannel while I worked up the courage to jump in the truck and make the ten-minute drive to Crocks.
My stomach required food, but I also had the motive to plead for a job. Luckily, the piece-of-shit house I’m living in has extremely low rent. Like, way below the average for even a town this quaint. Which was why it was so easy to rent it blindly. Even now, with my financial status—thanks to my saving money abilities—I could go a few months without a job if needed.
But I’d rather not be bored out of my mind.
I worked at a diner in high school, so maybe I’ll be able to secure a job here with no issues. Unless they need someone to flip pizza dough, which is completely out of the question due to my severely uncoordinated nature.
I lift my head and peer at the dark wood bar with rows of liquor bottles behind it. The bartender wears the same gray Crocks logo T-shirt that the delivery guy had on the first night I got into town.
I wonder where he is. Just a glimpse of his panty-dropping smile would lighten my foul mood.
