Page 9 of Just a Little White Lie

And the thing that gets me more than anything, as I clip down the street, is the fact that Jack just might be right.

What can I put on my résumé?

I mean, teacher, yes. By some miracle, I’ve kept my teacher registration alive. I managed to teach just enough to continue getting it signed off, so I can easily get a job relief teaching and then no doubt find myself a permanent position, but ugh, do I even want to do that?

You have to start somewhere. You need the money!

I wave my hand in the air as if I can shoo away the voice of reason in my ear.

No one in Cambridge knows me. All my teaching connections are in Auckland, which means I have to start from scratch down here. I know what small towns can be like—filled with cliques and history. My résumé will have to look pretty damn good to get a look in with any of the schools around here. I’ll need to dust it off, bulk it up, give myself the best chance possible.

Stupid…I shake my head, trying to think of what I can blame, but in the end, my shoulders slump forward, and I have to concede that the only thing I can blame… is myself.

I’m stupid.

I acted like a millionaire for so long, when in reality I was just a pauper. And now I’m the scum on the very bottom of the barrel.

“Better start climbing.” I grit my teeth and grab the first rung of my metaphorical ladder.

Spurred on by Jack’s teasing and a pair of sexy red shoes, I pick up my pace.

I, of course, get lost and have to use my phone for navigation. It takes over an hour to get to Luke’s place, and by the time I walk in the door, I have blisters on my pinky toes and the backs of my heels. Kicking off my shoes, I wipe the sweat off my forehead and stomp into the kitchen. I need a drink!

Flipping open the cupboard, I eventually find a bottle of merlot and unscrew the cap. I glug straight from the bottle, four massive gulps before letting out a breath and wiping the back of my hand across my glistening lips.

“Okay, résumé,” I mutter. “It’s time to kick your ass.”

Jack is going to be left speechless, the big crocodile hunter. I’ll show him. My résumé is going to be so freaking good, I’ll be getting calls within the hour.

I grab my laptop and perch on the edge of the couch. I can’t work in my gray jail cell, not when I have the whole house to myself.

Placing the bottle of wine beside me, I continue to sip my red energy, drawing from its strength while I pound those laptop keys like they’re going to save my life.

They are.

They have to.

I scan my current résumé and nod at the good bits, then frown at the series of empty spaces in certain sections.

Time to make myself look good.

I swig back another mouthful of juice and get to work, determined to prove my brother and his cocky best friend wrong about me.

They don’t know how awesome I am, but I’ll show them.

I’ll show them all.

JACK

I’m not sure what I’ll find when I quietly walk in the kitchen door. I’m half expecting Lauren to be waiting to ambush me, claws out. I was kind of mean to her on the street, drawing attention to the price of those shoes and then teasing her about her résumé. But what else was I supposed to do when all I could picture was her strutting down the sidewalk in those red things?

Her hips would sway, her legs would—

Don’t go there, man. Just stop it!

I shut the back door with a sigh and listen out for noises in the house. There’s a light on in the living room, so I head toward it, bracing myself for whatever I might find.

What I don’t expect to see is Lauren sitting on the couch, squinting at her laptop.

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