Page 29 of The One I Want
I snap my eyes back up because…fuck…Does this man own any other kind of pants? The answer is yes. Jeans. Jeans that hug his legs so well you’d think they were made specifically for him.
Stop. Stop this. These thoughts are not allowed, especially if I’m going to be working for him.
Shit, am I going to do this? Apparently according to the little voice in my head, I am.
But can I? I don’t think Whitley would really be losing any business if I stepped away. Hell, it might make her more productive not having to redo what I’ve screwed up. But can I do this? Some days I’m lucky if I take care of myself.
“What exactly would you need me to do?” I ask. Which I must say, is a very adult-like question to ask to a prospective employer. If I would have asked this question to about six other jobs I probably would have avoided them altogether.
“I’m still figuring that out,” he says, sitting back against the couch. “I thought I could do this alone, but I was very, very wrong about that. This morning proved that fact for me. I do know I’d need you to help me in the mornings. And when they get home from school. My practices usually go until the early evening, so I’m generally not home until after dinner. You’d be in charge of dinner, homework, any activities, those kinds of things.”
“So I need to learn how to cook?”
He snaps his eyes to mine and blinks a few times. “You can’t cook?”
Oh, this is too much fun. “Now, Wes. Did you go just assuming again that because I’m a woman, I know how to cook?”
I see him swallow what looks to be a huge lump in his throat. “I mean…well, I was hoping…but…”
I laugh. “Yes, Wes, I can cook. It’s one of the few things I’m good at. Luckily, I had a Meemaw who knew her way around a kitchen. But we really need to work on you making assumptions. And breaking pinky promises.”
This makes him smile. “Make it my free pass?”
“Sure.”
We sit and smile at each other for a few seconds, which gives me time to think. Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t need to think. In fact, the only thing I need to think about is how to tell Whitley I’m quitting.
“When do you want me to start?”
I don’t know how, but I can literally see the weight being lifted off his shoulders. It’s accompanied with a smile I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him. I do know it makes him even more handsome than he already is.
“How about now?”
Chapter12
Betsy
In the approximately thirty-twojobs I have had in my adult life, not once have I ever been nervous for the first day.
So why am I sitting in my car in Wes’s driveway, my hand on the door, but unable to open it?
“Get it together, Betsy,” I say to myself, trying my best to give myself a pep talk. “Wes is here this morning. Peggy is a phone call away. And if all else fails, just ask “What Would Emerson Do?”
With one last deep breath, and a big swig of the coffee I made at home, I get out of the car and walk up to the front door. With each step I take, I can hear a little more of the chaos that is already ensuing at seven in the morning.
Here we go…
I knock on the door and only have to wait a few seconds before Wes flings it open.
I quickly cover my mouth with my hand. It’s the only way to stop myself from laughing at the scene in front of me.
Wes is holding Magnolia, who looks like she just rolled out of bed. I don’t know what he was trying to cook, but there is flour all over his T-shirt. And from what I can tell behind him, Hank is running around in his underwear with a wand stuck in his “pocket.” There’s no sign of Emerson, but I don’t really blame her. I’d be hiding too if I wasn’t being paid.
“Good morning, Taylor family,” I say, doing my best to put on a super positive and peppy exterior, despite the fact that my coffee is still twenty minutes away from kicking in.
“I’m not a very religious person, but thank God you’re here,” Wes says.
“Is this a normal morning?” I ask as I set down my bag and coffee.
