“My grandkids have been a pain in my a-s-s.” She whispers that last part. “Been spending a lot of time down in Austin.”
She and Fanny chat while I ring up Adele’s order. I know some people hate the idea of small towns, but I love the familiarity that bonds the locals.
When the crowd dies down, I’m about to take a break and fill out Archer’s employment forms when my second least favorite person strolls into the bakery.
And just like that, my great day circles the drain.
Zoe Evans rolls her eyes the minute she sees me standing at the counter. I can’t paste a smile on my face, so I go for pleasantly bland.I’m guessing Fanny will get upset if I jump over the counter and strangle this girl.
“What can I get y—”
“Lemon scone and a double latte with organic soy milk. Three stevia, but only if you have raw.”
The entire time I ring up her order, I bite my tongue to keep from asking whether her goal last spring was to get me fired from my tutoring job or if that was just a nice perk to her enormous screwup.
But judging from her evil smirk when she walks away, it doesn’t matter because the end result was the same—I got canned.
I try to look on the bright side. At least I don’t have to work with Zoe Evans any longer.
* * *
Moral turpitude.
I have to look up some of the terms in this employment contract, and that one gives me pause.
Not that I’m planning to “commit an act or behave in a way that gravely violates the accepted standard of the community.” But jeez. Add that to the NDA I have to sign, and you’d think I was applying for a top-secret-level position with the FBI instead of wanting to answer phones and pour coffee. Although my Type A personality appreciates the thoroughness of this application process, the practical side of me wants to nail this down already.
“Those bars are delish,” Fanny says when she ducks into the kitchen. “Another family recipe?”
“Some of it was.”
“I might need you to add those to what you’re baking for me.”
I can’t do a cartwheel in here, but a piece of me wants to. “Be happy to.”
“How’s that fancy job of yours going?”
“Hasn’t started yet, but it’s just for one semester. I’ll be filling in for someone on maternity leave.” I motion to the mountain of paperwork I have to sign. “Their hiring process is intense.”
“Those snooty-snoots called me and asked a million questions about you.”
“You said I was your favorite employee, right?” I bat my eyes at her, and she chuckles.
“’Course I did. Told them how you stay late during finals to help me when all the other kids bail.”
Staffing at this place is really tough at the beginning and end of the semester, but I’m able to get time off in between to focus on classes.
“Aww, thanks. You’re the best. I’ll be honest—those discounts you give me on journals and pens help.” Next to vast quantities of caffeine, working at a bookstore has its benefits.
“Still hoarding pens, huh?”
“You say that like it’s a problem.”
She laughs as I head back out to cover the counter.
The front door opens and the noise level rises a hundred percent.
Rider and a handful of other guys stroll in. From the back of their entourage Ben gives me a nod. Rider has his hands full with that girl Miranda, who’s hanging on him like she’s Kate Winslet inTitanicand he’s the floating door keeping her from drowning.
