Her sister saw the situation a little differently.
“Don’t you think this whole thing is funny?” Paige asked from her perch on the edge of the bathtub, where she watched Bailey coat mascara on her lashes.
“I’m not sure that a job interview offers much to laugh about.”
“You know what I mean.”
She did, but forever the little sister, Bailey liked to work Paige up a little before conceding to anything.
“Well, let’s see here.” Bailey pursed her lips, deciding she liked this shade of lipstick just fine. She usually left her lips bare, except for Chap Stick, but today called for something special, something bold. The bright red—or Fearless Femme, as it said on the side of the tube—worked. She felt like Marilyn Monroe. Even if her gray pant suit and cobalt blouse were more demure than anything the starlet had ever worn. She felt powerful and in control. She felt confident and beautiful. Mostly, she didn’t feel worried.
Satisfied with her overall appearance, she turned away from the mirror, leaning a hip against the counter. “I replied to an ad looking for an interior design assistant who—and I quote—‘will create home designs and oversee them through to completion.’”
It was like the ad had been written for her. Wanted: Interior design assistant for a short-term contract. Ideal candidate will have minimum three years of professional experience and related undergraduate degree. Requires expansive portfolio with referrals, self-starter who works well on a team. Must be deadline-oriented, budget-conscious, and flexible. Prefer a candidate with architectural and post-graduate experience.
And unlike her current job, there was no mention of getting coffees for the top brass.
“I not only met the required and preferred qualifications, but I’ve been through two rounds of phone interviews, and they want to meet me in person.”
“Yes, but even after applying for that job and going through two phone interviews, you still have no idea who you’ll be working for.”
That was true. The ad had been for a confidential entity, which would remain a secret until an offer was on the table. Assuming she got the offer, she’d know the who soon enough. If she didn’t . . . it didn’t matter. She didn’t care.
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“What if this is a CIA front?”
Bailey arched a freshly tweezed and penciled eyebrow. “The CIA hires interior designers?”
“I’m serious. I read a book by a former CIA operative who landed his job by answering an advertisement for a graphic designer.” Paige shook her head, sending neatly coiffed blonde curls rolling over her slim shoulders. “It happens.”
“I doubt the CIA is coming to Texas to recruit people to redecorate their offices in Washington—or wherever they’re based.”
“What if they send you somewhere to spy on a suspected terrorist under the guise of designing a palace? Could you withstand the pressure?”
“Why would they want to hire someone with a background in eco-friendly design if I was building a palace? Do you really think someone building a palace cares about sustainability?”
“How are we to know what they’ll want?”
Bailey barely contained a laugh. “Why would it only be a temporary gig? If the U.S. Government was going to take on the time and expense required to train an intelligence operative, don’t you think they’d want a multi-year commitment?”
Paige’s eyes widened. “Not if they’re sending you on a suicide mission.”
Sometimes there was no reasoning with her sister.
“Mama thinks it’s a kidnappin’ scheme. She’s worried they’re going to load you up into a van and sell you as a sex slave.”
Their mama really needed to lay off NCIS, Criminal Minds, and the long list of other crime shows filling her DVR.
“Don’t worry.” Bailey patted her purse. “I always carry pepper spray.”
Unimpressed, Paige rose to her feet, planting balled up fists on her hips. “Roger thinks you’ll be working on an Army base. And Nana thinks it’s a front for a reality show. I told them—”
“You should have told them to relax.” Bailey reached out and pulled her sister in for a hug. “Which is exactly what I’m going to tell you to do right now.”
“But—”
“But nothing.” She squeezed tighter. “It’s all gonna be fine.”
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Acknowledgments
I CAN’T BELIEVE WE made it. Not just to this point in Harper’s story, but to publication. My publishing world became a little crazy prior to this book’s release, and I would not have been able to get it back on the right track without the love and support of so many friends, family, authors, bloggers, and readers.
Thank you to Sarah Chapman, Whitney Lake, and Kaley Stewart for being my beta readers on this project and providing such helpful and supportive feedback.
Thank you again to my brain trust: Scott Cavadini, Brent Litz, Kelly Oko, Katie Steiner, and Chris Stier. Thanks for allowing me to pick your brains to expand my knowledge and understanding of everything from car dealerships to the life of a coach. Thank you Trevor Stewart, Katie Steiner Olson, and Nathan Lake for being part of my fantasy football world. Thank you to my brothers, Michael and Shawn Chapman, for schooling me on football. Thank you Mom and Dad for introducing me to the game and making me a fan for life.
Thank you to Chrissy Wolfe of EFC Services for polishing this story. Thank you to Cat Lavoie, Kelly Brakenhoff, Brea Brown, Liberty Kontranowski, Kathryn Biel, Becky Monson, Meredith Schorr, and Tracie Banister for being my cheerleaders at crucial points in the writing and publishing process.
Thank you to my family and friends for being with me on this crazy, wonderful journey. And thank you, readers, for making this whole thing worth it.
Go Big Red and Go Pack Go!
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Three & Out Page 28
