by Sophie Stern
It’s one of my many quirks.
“What questions do you want me to ask?” I might be the oldest brother, but I’ve never managed the ranch hands. That’s always been Carter’s area of expertise. I’m the hard ass and he’s the softie. My brother has a heart of gold and always sees the best in people.
I don’t have that luxury.
I’ve got a business to run.
My parents are retired and left the ranch to me and my brothers last year. Now they’re traveling the world with the money they saved during years of careful living and scrounging. I couldn’t be happier for them, but I also feel like I have to prove I can carry on the family legacy and that I can do it well.
My brothers don’t feel the same pressure I do. Carter is carefree and has plenty of plans for expanding the ranch, but he wants to make it a touristy place: not a larger ranch.
Then there’s Micah. He’s the baby of the family, but still old enough to know how much hard work goes into running the ranch. He lives on the ranch with the rest of us, but he stays in one of the guest cottages for some reason. Micah also doesn’t actually work on the ranch. He’s an IT guy and he’s great at it. He loves the property just as much as Carter and I do, but Micah’s heart is pixilated.
He doesn’t have ranching in his blood.
“Ask about previous experience, work history, skills. That sort of thing. I like to keep interviews casual and focused on the responsibilities the person is going to have. Remember that this is an entry-level job, though, so even if a certain candidate isn’t totally experienced, we can provide on-the-job training for them, okay?”
“Okay.”
“There’s a list on my desk that has each candidate’s resume. The first one should be there soon and you’ll have about an hour before the next interview.”
“How many total?”
“Three.”
“Got it,” I say, and hang up the phone. I wish I was as cool and relaxed about this as Carter seems to be. He’s always got everything under control, but right now I just want to eat something, punch something, or fuck something.
I just want to get all of this pent-up energy out of my system so I can start focusing again. Things have been so crazy for the last few months that I feel like I’m choking. I need to learn how to balance everything, but it’s so hard. Running a ranch is a lot of work: more than I’d ever imagined. My parents made everything seem so flawless and easy.
For me, it has been anything but easy.
Carter’s desk is in the first-floor office. The two of us live together in a large house on the ranch. Micah has one of the guest cabins. He moved out there a few years ago for privacy, I suppose. He still helps out around the ranch as much as possible, but his focus has always been on computers, so he handles a lot of the business end of things. He would much rather design a website than tag cows. I can live with that. We all have our strengths.
Entering the room, I take a quick look around. We each have a desk in here, along with a third one that mostly just holds extra junk. I suppose we should clean it off and let our new “assistant” sit there. Honestly, I haven’t thought much about it since it’s really Carter’s project: not mine. We’ve been doing just fine without extra help around here and to be honest, I think he’s hiring someone out of boredom and not necessity. Carter likes to nitpick and twiddle with things. Me? I’d rather we keep things the way they are. If it’s not broken, why fix it?
The stack of resumes is sitting on his desk and I pull out the three, along with the background checks he’s already run. I know two of the people already. Jed and Ralph are both good guys and strong candidates. Most importantly, they’re both shifters, so they know that sometimes, weird stuff can happen. It’s not that shifters are prone to trouble, per say. It’s just that sometimes, shifters get into sticky situations. Like the time the Peterson’s cub got stuck in a tree and kept shifting from bear to boy and back again.
We haven’t had many problems on the ranch, but every once in awhile a random wolf will be on a run and get in the zone, forget where he’s going or where the property lines are, and wander onto the ranch. We can’t have staff who are going to do something crazy, like shoot any wolf they see. While human ranches often tend to shoot predatory animals on site, we can’t do that. We have to make sure every animal is actually an animal and not someone we know who happens to be behaving a little erratically.
Jed is a tiger and a fierce fighter. He’d be a great addition to any ranch. He can fence, he can mow, he can shoot. He can round up the cattle and he’s got a great eye for livestock, so he’ll be great when it comes to acquiring new heads and managing the ones we’ve got. I’ve known him for years.
Ralph is a brown bear shifter, like me and my brothers. We grew up together and he’s a good guy. Recently divorced, he’s been looking for ways to keep his mind busy and his time occupied. I don’t know what happened between him and Cindy because it’s none of my damn business, but again, I’d be lucky to have him as part of the team. He’s a hard worker.
When I flip to the third resume, I do a double take. This can’t be right. What the fuck is wrong with Carter? Either Micah totally goofed on the background check or Carter is messing with me. We agreed that when we hired someone, we’d pick someone who understood what it takes to be the best. We said we’d hire someone who understood our goals of expanding the ranch. We did not say we’d hire the first piece of ass to apply for the position.
The third candidate is a female from out of town. What the hell? Her address is in Missouri, but there’s a note that she’s willing to relocate. To Honeypot? Really? It’s not unheard of for someone new to move to Honeypot, but it’s a known shifter town, and there’s nothing here on her resume about being a shifter.
Is she human?
Fuck. How did this resume sneak in here? Did Carter do this on purpose, or did he forget to ask her if she can change into an animal like we can?
The last thing I need to do is to explain shifting to a snot-nosed human. It’s not that shifters are secret anymore. They aren’t. Plenty of people know about shifters. We’ve been on the news, the government knows about our existence, and so on. That still doesn’t mean I like to advertise what Honeypot is.
We’re a private people and we like to keep to ourselves. Humans are fine, but they don’t know what it’s like to have this huge, weighty secret. They don’t know about the issues shifters face. Poaching, for one thing, is a huge issue in some areas. Not so much in Honeypot, but Dragon Isle has had problems in the past and I know there have been a few things happening in Walnut Creek. Do I really want to bring in a human who could try to cause trouble?
What if she’s a spy for some evil organization or corporation?
Even as I think it, I realize the thought is insane. No one is going to come get us. There’s no boogeyman, nothing that goes “bump” in the night. There isn’t anything like that.
We’re safe.
We look after our own.
Still, I can’t help wondering what Carter saw in this application or why he considered hiring an out-of-towner. Of course, this means this candidate drove or flew all the way from Missouri to Honeypot. That’s dedication.
Or stupidity.
I can’t quite tell.
The doorbell rings and I’m pulled from my papers. I keep them in my hand as I head to the front of the house, shuffling them around.
Whether I like it or not, it’s too late to cancel the interview.
It’s time to see what this girl has got.
Chapter 5
Hope
I can do this.
I can do this.
I can do this.
Only, as soon as I ring the bell and hear footsteps inside, my heart leaps into my throat and I start to panic. I thought I’d at least have a few minutes to breathe before they answered the door, and how many of them are going to answer it, anyway? I thought I was interviewing with Carter, but the people I’ve talked with have seemed adamant about
it being Wyatt.
And why does that make me shiver, anyway?
What do I care if these guys are super hot Honeypot men?
I am not looking for love.
Not.
Looking.
There are two full-size windows on either side of the door. They have curtains, but I can see a shadow moving behind them as the person approaches the door.
My heart beats faster.
What qualifications do I have to be a ranch hand?
What was I thinking?
I’ve lived in Holbrook my entire life. Everything I’ve ever known is there. The elementary school where I met Margaret is there. The first company I ever worked for is there. My favorite bookstore is there. The supermarket where I do all of my shopping is there.
And now I’m not there.
Not anymore.
Now I’m here.
Was leaving really the right choice? Maybe I’m just running away from my problems instead of trying to solve them. My breakup with Jacob was pretty clear cut, of course, but maybe I should have tried harder to stay friends with Margaret. Maybe I’m putting too much blame on her and Jacob and not enough on myself.
The signs were there, but I missed them, and now I feel like an idiot standing on this porch.
As soon as the door swings open, I open my mouth.
Hi, I’m Hope.
Nice to meet you, Mr. Blair. I’m Hope.
Hello! Beautiful day, isn’t it?
I need to introduce myself, but all thoughts flee my mind and I forget how to make words. Everything I thought about coming to Honeypot vanishes as I take in the mythical god standing before me.
Holy dragons.
“Hello,” he says, but my mouth just drops. Six foot and then some, all muscle, amazingly shaggy hair, and dark brown eyes I could melt into?
Fuck me.
Is everyone in this town built like a freaking body builder? Even the women are beautiful. I’ve never considered myself to be bisexual, but after Selena the waitress last night, I’m questioning everything I thought to be true. Maybe I could go either way.
“Are you here for an interview?” He speaks again, and my mouth goes dry. All I can do is nod, and he motions me inside. The man doesn’t smile or laugh. No, he’s all business, and I have a feeling I’m going to completely bomb this interview.
All the articles I read on preparing for job interviews?
All the blogs I perused?
All the books I borrowed from the library?
Not a single one covered “how to act if your guy is a super hot rancher and you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re horny.”
So horny.
Suddenly, clinging to my virginity at 26 years old seems very, very silly.
Suddenly it seems very trite.
It’s all I can do to keep from rubbing myself up against this creature. Instead, I take a deep breath and manage to follow him into a comfortable-looking family room. The couches are well-worn (well-loved, my mom would have said) and the end tables look like they were carved by hand.
“Have a seat, please,” he motions for me to sit on a floral-patterned couch and he takes a seat across from me. “Miss Demers, is it?”
I nod and sit down, trying not to bounce on the old couch. It reminds me of the one my grandmother used to have. She used to always threaten me with a spanking if I jumped on it, but somehow, I could never control myself. Suddenly, the totally unwanted, unasked for image of Wyatt threatening me with a spanking for jumping on his couch fills my mind.
Where the hell did that come from?
Would he bend me over his knee, slip up my skirt, and punish me for being a naughty, naughty girl?
I gulp.
“Yeah. Hope Demers. That’s me.”
He gives me a strange look,
“I’m Wyatt Blair,” he says slowly.
Well, fuck me silly. The cop was right. He totally called it. It’s Wyatt you need to impress. How did he know? I wonder if Wyatt is the oldest brother. Maybe he’s the one in charge and Carter was just there to weed out the bad applicants. I don’t know.
I wish I did.
“I’m sorry that my brother couldn’t be here this morning. There was an incident that required his attention.”
His voice has just a hint of a drawl and I might just climb onto his lap. Oh, if this were any other situation, I would definitely climb onto his lap.
“That’s all right,” I say quickly, politely.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself, Hope.”
“What do you want to know?” My voice comes out breathy. Dammit. It’s one thing to feel horny. It’s another thing to fucking sound it.
He narrows his eyes at me and I feel the force of his full attention.
“Everything.”
“Um, okay.” Weird job interview, but I’ll go with it. What sorts of things should I tell him? A million thoughts are running through my head and when his eyes narrow even further, I realize I’ve hesitated a bit too long.
Maybe a lot too long.
“Sorry. I’m a little tired. I just got in late last night.” I fold my hands in my lap, then unfold them, trying to figure out what to do, what to say. I’ve never been this nervous before.
“How long are you in town?” He asks. “You aren’t from Honeypot originally, are you?”
“I’ll be here one more night,” I say. “Hopefully I’ll get to see a little bit of the town. I’m originally from Missouri, but I’m ready for something new.” And now I’m rambling and probably sound like I’m begging for the job. Okay, back to business.
“I graduated from college a few years ago and immediately got a job at a local bookstore and café. It’s called A Cup of Tea.” He smiles at the name, and I do, too. “I managed bookkeeping, including all the databases. I was in charge of the back and the front of the shop. I did everything from customer service to baking to ordering new books.”
“Sounds like you were very good at your job.”
“Yes, I like to think so. My supervisors were very pleased with my work. They’re listed as references if you want to call them to verify.”
“Why did you leave your old job?”
I quit my job when I found my boyfriend in bed with my best friend. I couldn’t bear to be around anyone who knew. That’s why I started looking at positions in different places. I looked at a few positions close to home, but nothing seemed new enough, fresh enough.
Honeypot seemed like the perfect choice. When I saw the ad, it called to me. I immediately knew it was where I wanted to be.
Only, I can’t tell Wyatt all of this.
He’ll think I’m a real nutcase.
I decide to be a little bit honest, but not completely honest.
“I loved my position, but I’m ready for something new, something fresh.” I want something as different from my old life as possible.
“Ranching is a lot different than sitting in an air-conditioned building all day,” he says, and suddenly it’s my eyes that are narrowing.
“I am well aware of that. I’m not scared of hard work.” I never have been. Growing up in a small town much like Honeypot taught me that if you can’t work hard, you’re basically useless. Not only do you have to help out around your own house, but in small towns, you’re expected to help your neighbors, too.
“Hmm, we’ll see,” he comments, but I can tell I’m losing him. He doesn’t believe that I’m more than a pretty face. He thinks I’m useless, just like Jake. I have to fight to keep the memories of our final fights from surfacing and blocking out the interview.
You’re boring.
You’re a prude.
You have nothing to offer.
You’re too focused on work.
You don’t know how to be in a relationship.
Mr. Blair is flipping through my resume and he’s not impressed. I can’t really blame him. I wouldn’t be impressed with me, either.
“You have computer experience?” He asks.
“My brother Micah takes care of most of our website stuff,” Wyatt comments. “The person we hire will still need to know a few things. Social media marketing is going to be a big one. Do you have any experience with that?”
Luckily, I can say “yes” to this.
“Absolutely. Any type of social media you want, I can manage. At A Cup of Tea, I handled customer service through social media and email. I also did a lot of social media promotions with graphics and giveaways.”
“Interesting.” He stares at the sheet of paper in front of him like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
This tells me that I’m boring him out of his mind.
“Tell me more about your background. What other skills do you have?”
“Well, I’m very good at dealing with customers,” I reiterate, scrambling for any kind of experience I can relate to being on a ranch. Maybe there’s some way I can make a connection between baking muffins and gardening.
Come on, brain.
“Yes, you mentioned that. A few times, in fact. Your insistence that you’re so good with customers makes me wonder exactly what you were so good with, Miss Demers.”
“Excuse me?”
Wait, what?
He is not insinuating what I think he’s insinuating. Where the fuck did that come from? I know this isn’t the best interview, but he can’t seriously be asking me if I slept with clients.
Can he?
“While I’m not one to turn down a good blowjob, I don’t think we have much use for those skills in this position.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask.
“About what? Blowjobs? No, I love those.”
“I drove for 12 fucking hours for this interview, and you aren’t even taking it seriously,” I say. My voice is suddenly a whisper, and I realize that this has been a huge waste of time.
