Page 95 of Resist Me (Forget the Past 3)

“You’re switching careers?”

“Trying. I worked in fabric sales. Over in Germany. But I got antsy. Fabrics just aren’t something I’m passionate about, and that’s what I want in my next job.”

For someone trying to pursue desire, a marriage of convenience sounds like the most emotionless choice I could make. And yet my fake relationship has more passion than anything else in my life.

Cassandra studies me while I rise to my feet. “Was it just the fabrics part or did you also dislike being a salesperson?”

Luna asked a similar question back when I first admitted my dissatisfaction.

“Actually, the sales part was enjoyable. Getting to know people, figuring out which product would meet their needs, having them leave happy. All that was great. But then I’d get home at night and realize I was just talking about fabric all day. Like, yeah, I found the product they needed, but do they truly care about it? Once they have what works, do they ever give it a second thought?” I shrug. “That slowly sucked any ounce of joy out of it.”

Cassandra continues to watch me. “What if you were selling something people were passionate about? Something they loved and appreciated every day of their life?”

She creates my dream with her words, and it’s not a far jump to figure out her destination.

“You mean work here? Sell guitars?”

Cassandra runs her fingers over the body of a Gretsch Rancher, the wood gleaming from whatever treatment she used. “I opened this shop five years ago with my husband. He was good with people. Better than I am.” She doesn’t look at me as she says that. If she had been, she’d have seen the disagreement on my face. Cassandra has been nothing but kind to me. A little stiff, sure, but still pleasant to be around.

“We had a perfect setup. He ran the front of the shop, and I handled the back end.”

The past tense she’s using warns me to brace myself.

“He passed last year. Lung cancer.” She huffs out a laugh with zero humor. “He quit smoking before we ever met, but the cigarettes still got him in the end.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. As if sensing the woman’s sadness, Pig wanders over and snuffles at Cassandra’s pant leg. That earns her a pet and a genuine, if sad, smile.

“My point is I wasn’t meant to work this place alone.”

Her words confuse me because I saw at least two people with C & M staff T-shirts on the sales floor.

“Are you offering me a job here?”

Cassandra glances at me as her fingers continue to scratch Pig’s blocky head. “This town is full of people looking for part-time work. They want a discount on guitars and flexible hours so they can make their gigs. And they’ll drop this job as soon as someone offers them a little cash and promises of a record deal. Those are the people I offer jobs to. What I need is a partner. Someone looking for a career. Do you think that could be you?”

I open my mouth a few times, fully intending to answer, only to realize I don’t have words. Not a great show for a potential salesperson.

Cassandra holds up her hand, maybe sensing the riot of thoughts swirling in my mind.

“This is an idea I just came up with. Right now. How about you think it over, and if you’re interested, then send over your resume and some references? If you’re not, no harm, no foul. Come into the shop whenever you want. Bring this one with you.” Cassandra pats Pig.

I decide to head out before I blurt something that’ll have her rescinding the offer.

Could I take it?

What would Luna say to the idea of me staying in Nashville?

ChapterThirty-Seven

LUNA

I’m just leaving the gym when my cell phone buzzes. After giving a last wave to my second client of the day, an heiress to a hotel fortune, I dig the device out of my bag.

Dash: You need to control your husband.

I stare down at my brother’s cryptic message, at a total loss. What could Charlie—the sweetest man alive—have done to piss him off?

Luna: Not following.

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