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“I thought you were going to miss the interview with Hannah.”
He put his things on the table and sat in a chair far away from the two gifts. “Not a chance.” He froze as he replayed Rueben’s words in his mind. “Wait, Hannah?”
“Yes, the interviewee's name. She should be here any minute.” Rueben nodded to the plate of cookies. “What are those? They look yummy.”
“The girl who threw paint on me brought me cookies and a new shirt. What was the interviewee’s last name?”
“The girl who splattered paint on you bought you a new shirt and made you cookies? She must’ve felt really bad.”
When Rueben’s attention stayed on the cookies, Jason reached for the plate and slid it over. “They’re yours if you want them.”
“I guess I’ll have to try baking something you will like then. Challenge accepted.”
He stiffened at the woman’s voice behind him. The paint-woman, Hannah, stood a few feet behind him, a wide smile on her face.
“Hello, my name is Hannah Smith. I’m here for the interview.”
No, this couldn’t be happening.
“Yes, please come in.” Rueben stood and shook her hand.
Jason stiffly rose to his feet as well and turned to the woman. When she held out her hand to him, he stared at it for a few seconds before gesturing to a chair—far across the table.
“Don’t mind him.” Rueben gave a belly laugh. “He never shakes my hand either. Please, take a seat,” he prompted as her gaze flitted between the two of them, probably wondering why a boss talked to his employee so casually.
“All right.” Letting her arm fall to her side, she nodded and crossed the room to sit in front of Rueben.
Jason’s cheeks burned as he returned to his seat. There were good and bad things about working for family, and letting others in on his private life was Grandpa’s downfall.
“That is the paint-girl,” he whispered under his breath to Rueben.
“You don’t say.” Rueben chuckled, a twinkle in his eye as he smiled at Hannah. “I like her already.”
Shoot. Why wouldn’t this woman go away? Jason grabbed the résumé Rueben had printed out for him and skimmed it while Rueben started the interview.
“So, you met Jason yesterday,” Rueben said.
Jason looked up from the paper and gave his grandpa an annoyed look.
“Oh, yes. It was a splashing good time.”
Rueben’s laughter echoed through the room. “I have to admit, it was hard to keep it together when he came running to his office, completely covered in orange paint. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but it was definitely a new look for him.”
“Gran—should we start?” Jason interrupted.
“Lighten up, son. It was an accident, and obviously the girl is sorry. She even made you cookies.”
“Lemon macarons,” she said brightly. “Why don’t you try one?” She gestured for Rueben to eat one, but she looked at Jason.
He hated being stuck in these situations. He stared across the thick, wooden table and was glad they had at least that much space between them. Rueben snatched up a cookie and popped the whole thing into his mouth. “Mmm,” he said, reaching for another. “These are delightful.”
“You think?” She winked. “My cake-batter ones are the best, but I’m out of ingredients for those. When I get some more, I’ll make you a whole batch.”
Rueben raised a thick eyebrow. “You’re hired.”
They both laughed while Jason just stared. Rueben nudged the plate in his direction again. “Go on, try one.”
Jason dropped the résumé to the table, unable to concentrate on the words anyway. He picked up a macaron and nibbled on the side. The soft, lemony cookie crumbled on his tongue and the icing melted against the roof of his mouth. It really was amazing. “Not bad,” he said honestly.
