Page 107 of The Playboy

But I hated that—and I hated that I wasn’t being honest to the people who were giving me a chance to interview at their company.

They deserved the truth.

“So, it looks like you’ve been working at the bar full-time throughout college?” Jo confirmed.

“My sisters and I left The Big Island once I graduated from high school and moved to Kauai, and I got the job within the first few days of being there. I just gave myself enough time to unpack and get settled before I went straight to work.”

“You’re a go-getter. I love that. You remind me a lot of myself.” She tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear. “You’ll be graduating in what, about five to six weeks?”

I nodded, smiling. “I honestly can’t believe it.”

“It’s wild how fast it goes by, isn’t it? In some ways, it feels like the longest four years of your life, and in other ways, it feels like you just got started.”

“Perfectly described.” I wiped my sweaty hands over the bottom of the dress, hoping it wouldn’t leave a mark. “But I’m excited for the next step, and I’ve already enrolled in the Six Sigma certification class. That starts the day after I graduate.”

“Fantastic.” She grabbed a pen off the table and jotted down a note on my résumé. “And you’ll be able to balance work while taking the class, I’m guessing?”

“It won’t be a problem.”

She grinned. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. We’re going to get along just great.” She winked and folded her hands over the paper, no longer looking at it. “I want to shift gears a little and chat about your current job. It’s mentioned that you do inventory at the bar. If we can, let’s go over a couple of instances when you possibly saved the bar money or, even better, where you came up with a process to make things more efficient.” She held up her finger, like she had more to add. “They don’t have to be things you’ve actually implemented. If they’re just ideas, I would love to hear those too.”

I had an example ready to go. One that had zero truth to it.

And when I started to tell her what it was, for some reason, I didn’t know why, but the words just weren’t there.

Not in my head.

Not on my tongue.

I took a deep breath, my lungs feeling so tight that the air burned as I sucked it in. “The bar …” I was able to get out until my voice faded, my chest pounding. I tried clearing my throat. “The bar …” The words came out scratchy, and I coughed.

“Do you need more water?” Jo was looking at the bottle in front of me that HR had given me when I came in.

“No.” I swallowed. “I’m fine. I’m just …”

A mess.

And a total fucking disaster.

My thoughts, my head, the regret that was stabbing me—all of it.

Why was this suddenly so difficult?

Why had I answered all of Cooper’s questions, and now, when it came to Jo, I was locked up, unable to spit out even a full sentence?

I knew the example of how I’d saved time and money at the bar. I’d rehearsed it on the plane and when I woke up in the hotel room after my nap and in the car ride on the way over here and during the tour of the building.

It wasn’t that.

It was that I was staring at the face of a woman who was only a year or two older than I was, who had worked and fought for the position she had at this company, who had led one of the brand’s most successful launches—a hotel in Utah, according to everything I’d read.

Who I wanted to give so much respect to.

“Jo …”

She leaned her arms on the wooden table. “We can start somewhere else. Let’s move on to the description of the position and—” She cut herself off as I shook my head.

“It’s not that.” I wrung my hands together, locking my fingers. “I need to be honest with you.”

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