Page 2 of The Naughty Elf

“Uh-huh.”

“And you have art today?”

“Yes.” She draws the word out, all sing-songy and happy. “We were using pastels last class, and I hope we get to do that again today. They’re messy, but they smear together well.”

I chuckle. “Good. They are fun. Maybe I can get a box if I get this new job for at home.”

Gracie cheers, pumping her fists in the air. The bus arrives, and she unbuckles, wedging between the front seats to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“I can’t wait to hear about your day,” I call after her, and she waves.

I turn left after the bus passes, the other parents jamming together on the street to start their own days. I’m not looking forward to this new routine, but it is what it is. I really want this job. It’s way better than a regular entry-level project planning gig. At least, from the sound of it.

My foot rattles against the floor of my car. I rehearse my qualifications, my regular interview answers, and think about what I’m going to ask the boss to myself as I drive. My GPS navigates me into a neighborhood, and I notice the brand-new model home on the corner. The street is full of cars and construction vehicles.

When I get out of my car, I can see a house that is currently being built five lots down. The one across from it has materials to finish the inside on the porch and in the yard.

I pull my portfolio out of my purse and slide my purse over my shoulder as I saunter in. It’s time to be my better, most professional self. Confidence fills me as I climb onto the porch.

The door is open, and I see an office sitting off to the left in what looks like a study. A man stands up from behind the desk, and I can hear the slap of his shoes against the hardwood.

It’s a nice house, with bright white paint on the outside and soothing blues in the entryway. A peaceful waterscape painting hangs on the wall.

A startlingly handsome man appears at the office door, and when I blink, I recognize him. It’s one of my dad’s friends. That’s a little confidence boost. I know how to impress my dad, so I’m betting the same things work on this man.

I’ve got this.

His hand swings out to shake mine, and I give him a nice squeeze. “Jackson Hayes. You must be Ginger Thatcher.”

“Sure am.” My hand lingers a second, and I enjoy the firm warmth of his grip as much as the golden boy look of him. He’s a golden boy in his forties, but that’s not a bad thing. Not with the way he smiles.

“Come on in, have a seat. I’m glad you could make it.” He steers me into his office, and it’s nice. Inside, there’s built-in bookshelves, plush furniture, anda fancy but not-so-tidy desk. I eye the bench seat by the window and imagine painting or reading there.

I sit in the comfy chair opposite his desk and note the awards hung on the wall. The room feels lived-in and professionally set up at the same time. Color me impressed.

When Jackson Hayes sits behind his desk, his gaze lingers on my red mouth, my crossed legs, and the prim posture of my back. I was aiming to look professional despite my age, and I know how to accentuate the more mature aspects of my appearance to make me seem older.

Part of me wishes I could have left a few buttons of my blouse undone, but I can do that next time.

“I was impressed by your experience. You just graduated over the summer?”

“I did. It took me a little longer to get my degree, but the extra time gave me more opportunities to participate in and plan events. Especially as a single mom.” Not usually something I would put out there straight off, but Mr. Hayes must already know about my history.

“Like I said, impressive.” He gives me another once-over, leaning back a little in his chair as he regards me.

Suddenly, I don’t feel so much like I’ve been nothing but a mom and a student for the last seven years. Jackson Hayes looks at me like I’m a woman—full-grown and ripe for the picking. I try not to enjoy it too much. He is my potential new boss, after all.

“I have one very important question for you, Ginger.” His hands steeple in front of his mouth, those dark blue eyes an oasis next to his bronze skin and golden hair. “What are you looking for from this position?”

My back straightens another inch, and a small smile curls along my mouth. “I’m looking for something I can throw myself into. Something that will challenge me and force me to be creative.”

Simple and true and not too dorky. Hopefully.

His matching grin says I’ve hit my mark.

“I’m a hard worker, and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.” Something my dad always appreciates, so I figure this guy will approve of that sentiment as well.

Nostrils flaring, he purses his mouth and nods. I swear a new tension fills the air between us.

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