Page 2 of Unexpected You

“You are the best,” I said, resting my head on her shoulder.

“I know,” she said, and I snorted.

* * *

It was truly sad how much of my wardrobe consisted of job-interview outfits. The kind of clothes that I hoped made me look adult and responsible and not like a chaotic person with ADHD who couldn’t seem to keep a job to save her life.

Twenty-six years old and I was still waiting to feel like a grown-up.

“Get your shit together,” I said to my reflection in the half-broken mirror that I had propped up next to my closet. My apartment was nothing to write home about, and I had to share it with my roommate, Danica. She was a college student who was barely ever home, but when she was, we got along well. The ideal roommate, in my opinion.

My jacket and matching pants fit me well, thanks to Hunter’s magical sewing skills, and I’d actually ironed the ivory blouse I wore underneath. I’d pulled my strawberry-blonde hair back into a smooth bun. It made me feel like I was wearing a costume, but what could you do? I checked the outfit from every angle, making sure my underwear wasn’t showing, and there were no rips or stains that I hadn’t noticed.

Since I didn’t want to take any kinds of chances with heels, I wore my black ankle boots that didn’t really work for summer but were better than anything else I owned.

“As good as it’s going to get,” I said, remembering at the last second to put in my pearl earrings. I’d inherited them from my grandmother and I only wore them for special occasions, which nowadays meant job interviews and not much else. Hunter’s elaborate birthday parties, sometimes.

Hunter met me downstairs with her car. The fact that she was willing to drive me around and pay for parking was truly one of the greatest gifts she could give me. I had a car, but it was in long-term parking and I only used it if I had to get a bunch of groceries or go visit my parents on holidays. They lived further up the coast and I didn’t get up to see them as much as I should. Having so many weird jobs with random hours and no vacation days, it was tough to make it happen, even for a weekend.

“You look great,” she said, appraising my outfit. She was always offering to let me borrow something of hers, but since she was shorter and a little curvier, we weren’t really the same size.

“Thanks. I’m crossing my fingers for this to either be a scam or be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Let’s hope for the second and prepare for the first?” she said, turning up the street that would take us to the café.

* * *

Hunter let me out so she could find a parking spot and I arrived five minutes early for the interview. When it came to being on time, I wasn’t the best, but this was important. I had Hunter to keep me on track so I’d managed to not fuck this part up. Now I just had to get through the rest of the interview without any mishaps.

I sent an email to the contact that I had arrived, since they hadn’t given me a phone number. Just as I was looking around, Hunter walked in and gave me a wink before she headed to the counter to order a coffee as if she wasn’t babysitting me.

Scanning the shop, I froze when I saw a woman sitting in the front by the window at a table by herself. Her back was to me, but there was something about her that made me stand up straight. Poise? Was that the word I was looking for? Her outfit was sleek and obviously designer without me needing to check the tags. She looked down at her phone and then stood up, looking around the café for someone or something.

The second her eyes locked on me, they narrowed. Fuck. I’d never seen eyes like hers. They were blue but almost…violet? Was that a thing? Did people have violet eyes? Maybe they were contacts.

I was so stunned by her unusual eye color that I didn’t realize that she was walking over to me.

“Cadence McCord?” she asked with a brisk efficiency that made me feel like I was about to be sent to the principal’s office for doing something bad.

“Uh, yes?” I said. Smooth.

“Excellent. I’m Eloise Roth,” she said, holding her hand out. Oh. Right. Handshake. I fumbled for a second but managed to give her a handshake that I hoped wasn’t too weak or too strong or too trembly or too sweaty. A tall order at the present moment.

Eloise Roth. I knew that name. Everyone knew that name. Holy shit. Eloise Roth was here, in this café, about to interview me for a job.

People like Eloise Roth didn’t interview assistants. They had underlings. And yet here I was, standing in front of her and wondering if any of this was real.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I managed to choke out. This was THE Eloise Roth. The bestselling writer of dozens of romance novels that were sold in airports and read at book clubs and were made into blockbuster movies that raked in millions. She might as well have introduced herself as the queen, that was how improbable this meeting was.

I’d seen her in interviews, and in person she was even more stunning. Taller than I thought.

Her dark hair fell perfectly to her shoulders, and she held herself with the confidence of a woman who was completely aware of her own power and worth.

Fuck. She was so hot that my knees were ready to buckle.

“Shall we?” she asked when I didn’t say anything and just kind of stared. She had definitely dealt with this kind of reaction before and knew how to handle it.

“Oh, uh, sure,” I said, and it took me a second to remember how you were supposed to sit in a chair. I kind of fell onto it and banged my elbow on the table, rattling the cup with her espresso in it. Of course she drank espresso. Like a classy adult. No macchiatos for Eloise Roth.

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