“You know, we’re looking for a manager/administrator for the club. I can’t guarantee you the position, but I can get you an interview for sure. You interested?”
I stand there staring at him like a crazy person.
“Berklee.”
“Yes, sorry, yes. I would love to interview. I can’t thank you enough.” I step out from behind the counter and launch myself at him, giving him a huge hug. He laughs and catches me.
“Like I said, I can’t guarantee you the job, but I have some pull with the boss.” He winks as I step back and release him.
“Just the opportunity is more than what I’ve gotten in weeks. Even if I don’t get the job, the interview experience will help me too. Thank you so much, Zane!”
“Anytime.” He pulls out his phone. “What time do you get off today? We’re actually interviewing this week.”
“At three.” I look down at my leggings and sweater. “I need time to run home and change.”
He lifts his head and takes me in. His eyes roam up and down my body, making me squirm. “You look fine to me,” he says once his eyes reach mine once more.
My cheeks heat. “You might think so, but I refuse to attend a job interview looking like this, even if you will be the interviewer.”
He grins. “It will be Crew and me both, and I can assure you he will have no issues with what you have on.”
“Four o’clock,” I counter.
He laughs. “Sounds good, Berklee.” He reaches over and grabs a pen and a business card for the shop, then starts writing on the back. “Here’s the address. You have my number?”
“I think so.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my contacts. Once I reach his name, I tap on the screen and then turn it to face him.
“That’s me. Call me if something comes up.”
“I’ll be there,” I promise. “Thank you again, Zane.”
“You’re welcome. See you later.” He waves over his shoulder and walks out the door.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, I tap on Maggie’s number and place my phone to my ear.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asks in greeting.
“I am, but you’ll never guess what happened?”
“You got his name?” she asks excitedly.
“No, not yet. He didn’t come in today. Zane did though.”
“Okay. . . .”
“His friend, the club owner, is looking for a manager, and Zane got me an interview!” I shriek a little too loud. Thankfully the shop is empty.
“Berklee, That’s awesome!” Maggie squeals.
“It’s today at four. He said I could come right after work, but I need to change first. No way am I going to a job interview in leggings and a Coffee House T-shirt.”
“Agree. I’ll look through our closets and throw something together. That will save you time when you get home.”
“Thanks, Mags. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but even just the chance to interview will be good for me.”
“You got this. I feel good about this one, B,” she says.
The bell jingles over the door. “Customer just walked in. I gotta go. See you later.” I quickly end the call, slip my phone into my back pocket and turn to face the counter.
It’s him.
“Hi,” I say cheerily.
“Berklee,” his deep, sexy voice replies.
“Your usual?”
“Please.”
I turn and make quick work of pouring his cup of joe. Not even Mr. Super Sexy Beard can distract me from thinking about the job interview this afternoon.
“You seem like you’re having a good day,” he comments with a grin.
“I am.” I slide his coffee across the counter. “This one’s on the house.” He shakes his head and tries to hand me money. “Not today,” I say, still grinning like a fool.
“Thank you, Berklee.” He drops the five-dollar bill in the tip jar and turns to leave. I watch him go; it’s not something you want to miss, trust me. “Berklee,” he says, turning to face me once he reaches the door.
“Yeah?”
“That smile looks good on you.” He flashes those damn dimples and walks out the door.
Can this day get any better?
The rest of the day drags on as I watch the clock slowly move its way toward three o’clock. Luckily we’ve been steady, so that helps pass the time. When the clock strikes three, I’m clocked out and in my car in less than a minute. When I get home, Maggie is there waiting on me. She has my black pencil skirt, my favorite blue silk blouse and my black pumps sitting on my bed.
“Gah! You’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much,” I yell out my bedroom door before I rush into the bathroom to take a quick shower.
“You’re welcome,” she yells back.
I take the fastest shower ever, hitting all the important parts, then quickly dry off and apply lotion. Thankfully I shaved this morning; I hate wearing hose, and time does not allow for that today. I apply some mousse to my hair, then pull out the hair dryer and diffuser. That’s going to take the longest. I almost didn’t wash it, but there is no way I’m going into an interview with my hair smelling like Coffee House.
Fifteen minutes later, my curls are hanging freely down my back. I apply some mascara and lip gloss and call it good. Slipping into the outfit that Maggie laid out for me, I look over at the clock. It’s three thirty. Grabbing my purse, I head to the living room. “Well?” I ask Maggie and Barry who are sitting on the couch.
Barry gives me a thumbs-up, then turns his attention back to the television.
“You look great. Very professional, yet still sexy,” Maggie comments.
“Not going for sexy, Mags. Just professional. Maybe I should go change?”
“No, it’s understated sexy. I promise you look great, respectable for a job interview. Now go. Call me when it’s over.”
Leaning down, I give her a hug. Barry pats me on the shoulder while I’m doing so and mumbles, “Good luck,” never taking his eyes off the screen.
With a final wave, I’m out the door and headed to what I hope is the job that starts the next chapter of my life.
Finding the club was no issue at all; it’s literally just around the corner from Coffee House. There’s a banner hanging over the door, “Coming Soon—Club Titan” sprawled across it in bold black letters.
“Showtime,” I mutter before climbing out of the car. Once I reach the door, I’m not sure if I should knock or just go on in. I decide to try the door and find it’s unlocked, so I take two steps that place me inside the door. “Hello,” I call out.
“In here,” I hear a deep voice call back. It sounds like Zane, but I can’t be sure. I’ve barely taken two more steps when he comes around the corner. “Berklee, hi. Sorry, I lost track of time. This way.” He turns and I follow him down the hallway. “Have a seat.” He points to one of the four folding chairs nestled around a small table.