Page 262 of Small Town Firsts
Yet April had warned me she probably wouldn’t be on time. How late would she be if she lived farther away?
Luckily, not my problem. I had enough of them.
Her job history was sparse. She had some experience at an insurance agency. A brief position as the front desk greeter for some hotel. A few lines about her past as a “curator of crystals and metaphysical goods” for an eclectic shop.
Currently, she was part of a podcasting duo. But it got even better. Her show was about “exploring your inner earth goddess through Tarot, palmistry, auras, and astrology.”
The name? Tarot Tramps.
I laughed again, hard enough my side cramped.
Then I zeroed in on the cell number listed beneath her address. A quick check of my phone said it was nearing ten pm. Way past a reasonable time for a work-related text.
Or any sort of text with a woman who’d pissed me off so much with her additional accent mark rejoinder that I hadn’t deigned to reply all week. Mainly because I was impressed. She’d sent volley after volley back at me when normally, people deferred to whatever I said.
I was used to that treatment. Expected it.
Ryan Goddess Moon did not give one good crap what I expected.
I typed in the number and a quick text. The time, the method of delivery, and maybe even the message was inappropriate for a future associate. But she’d inadvertently made me laugh on anight when it seemed out of reach. So, I owed her my kind of thank you.
Me:
Where did you come up with the name Tarot Tramps?
I’d grown so used to her rapid-fire email responses that I figured she would text the same way. Then again, it was late in the evening on a Friday.
Some people had social lives. She might be on a date. With her boyfriend. Or husband.
My shoulders tightened. So what? I was just asking a simple question. She could respond if and when she chose.
Which apparently wasn’t right now.
I jerked the swing into motion and tipped back my head as it creaked and squeaked. It probably needed WD-40 or whatever one did to aging porch swings. I could get someone out here to fix it, but this was my sanctuary. I didn’t want to deal with more people.
Except, oddly enough, the one I’d just voluntarily texted during my free time. But that was different. She was going to be working for me.
Sure, I’d demanded her work history and not looked at it for four days. That seemed illogical. Wholly unlike me. As if it hadn’t mattered if she was competent, because she’d intrigued me.
But I didn’t operate that way. Besides, I’d been busy.
Right.
The vibration in my hand broke into my thoughts. I glanced down and swiped to see the full message.
Miss Moon:
Who this?
This was going to be my assistant for a week? Her command of the English language concerned me. Then again, maybe she was in a hurry. In the middle of…something.
WhatI wasn’t going to dwell on.
This is Preston Shaw. Your new boss.
Another delay, this one longer than the last. I tapped my foot while I waited.
Miss Moon:
