Page 3 of Whatever It Takes

I give Calder a tight smile and work on getting myself together. I’ve lived through much worse than being yelled at.

I’ve got this.

I do not, in fact, have this.

My eyes dart around, taking in everything besides Mr. Easton. That man is far too attractive to focus on for long. My better judgment might melt right out of my ears if I’m not careful.

He has black hair that’s thick and longer on top than the sides, which are shaved at the same length as his short, well-trimmed beard.

It’s probably a good idea for him to cover that chiseled jaw with some facial hair. That way, he doesn’t have crazy women throwing themselves at him left and right. Although, I’ve always been a sucker for a solid beard.

Mr. Easton wears dark jeans and a black T-shirt with the Shadow Security logo. It stretches over his chest in a way that proves how much time he spends in the gym.

There’s something about his energy that screamsdangerous, and it takes everything in me not to scurry back out the open doorway.

“You’re thirty-five minutes early, which might be a good sign, or it could indicate an inability to follow instructions. Which is it?” he asks, lowering his hand so he can see my face over my application papers.

“G-Good,” I stutter. “I-It’s a good sign. I’m a hard worker, and you can tell I’d be punctual.”

“Punctual means on time, not early or, God forbid, late.” He quirks a well-manicured eyebrow.

“In the future, I’ll know how long it takes to get to the office from my apartment. Traffic can be unpredictable, and I assumed early would be better than running behind.” I give a tight smile, trying to breathe through the anxiety in my stomach. “Mr. Easton, I really am a dedicated worker. You just have to give me a chance.”

“It’s just Easton,” he replies, once again scanning the papers I filled out—with very little actual information. “Do you have reliable transportation?”

I nod. “I use rideshares or the bus, but once I save up, I intend to buy a car.”

“I see,” he says, placing my application on his desk. “Tell me why you’d be a good fit to work at my company.”

My forehead wrinkles.

Saying I’ve been barked at by aggressive alphas for the entirety of my life, so I’m basically immune, would probably raise more questions that I don’t have answers for.

It also would do me no favors to admit that I came here with an agenda.

Instead, I give him a standard spiel about being committed to finding a long-term position and swearing I catch on quickly. I even ramble about how important security is for women.

By the time I’m done, my face burns as I stare at my lap, shaking my head.

I wouldn’t hire me either.

“I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mr. Easton.” And with that, I shove myself out of my chair and bolt for the door.

I stride across the office with my gaze on my feet.

How am I supposed to survive on my own? My family purposely avoided teaching me any life skills, outside of how to take care of a household, because my father wanted me to be reliant on my future husband.

When I finally make it to the elevator, there’s a man inside. He holds out a tattooed hand, blocking the door from closing.

It would be rude to tell him I’ll wait for the next trip, so I climb inside and hit the button for the ground floor.

“Here for the interviews?” he asks, leaning against the back wall with a friendly smile on his face.

I rest my hip on the rail that lines the side of the elevator car and nod. “I was, but I think it’s pretty safe to say I won’t be getting a callback.”

“Nah, it can’t have been that bad.” He chuckles, holding out a hand. “Jameson, I’ll put a good word in for you.”

I shake, giving him a tired smile. “Briar. And thank you, but you don’t have to do that.”

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