Page 24 of Unleashed

Trevor’s spine stiffens the tiniest bit as his hand freezes over the pad of paper attached to his portfolio. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Why would you give me coffee?” I take a sip, hating how perfect it is. “It’s weird.”

“You’re weird.” His comeback is as childish as our bickering normally is.

“You’re being weirder.” I seal my lips together as one of the security guards brings in the man who must be our first applicant.

Trevor motions to the chair across from us. “Have a seat.” He pulls a resume from his portfolio and hands it to me, continuing to give the man his full attention the whole time. “This is Maren Lucas and Ruth Wagner.” He motions to each of us in turn. “I’m Trevor. We’re happy you could come in today.”

Trevor is really good at his job. I’m certainly never going to argue he’s not great at what he does. But it’s strange seeing him fully in his element. He sounds so professional and polite. And it’s so different from how he is with me, I want to be pissed about it. Angry that he’s never treated me like that. Trevor and I have clashed from the beginning, and I honestly can’t remember why. There was something about him that just irritated me from the start.

I try to focus on the questions he’s asking the man across from me, but my brain shifts gears, attempting to remember what it was about Trevor I didn’t like. What got us started off on the wrong foot.

Was it his arrogance? His bossy nature? Do I just have a problem with authority figures?

After only a few minutes, Trevor is thanking the man, shaking his hand, and sending him on his way.

After candidate number one is gone, Trevor turns to me. “I think he’ll be a better fit for the warehouse.” He lifts his brows. “Unless you like him for the supply room.”

I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention, but I’m not going to admit that, so I just nod. “Warehouse is probably better.”

Dammit.

Did I just accidentally agree with Trevor on something?

Technically, yes. But it wasn’t on purpose. I just didn’t know enough to disagree with him. Crap. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen again. Because I don’t like feeling as if Trevor and I are on the same page about anything. I still don’t remember why I feel that way, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.

We go through three more people. Two more men, and one woman. None of them seem to have the right combination of organizational and people skills that would make them well-suited for the supply coordinator position.

As the door closes behind the most recent applicant, Trevor turns to me. “We’ve only got one more. Hopefully they’re what you’re looking for.”

I take a swig of the coffee he made me—because I don’t know what to say back to him if we’re not fighting—and nearly choke on the mouthful when the security guard shows in a beautiful woman with dimples and shiny blonde hair. She’s dressed in super cute, cream-colored pants and a feminine, pale pink top. Her expression is warm and friendly as she sits down.

It’s like staring in the opposite mirror, and I can’t help but notice the way she gives Trevor all her attention as he starts asking questions. Because of course she does. He’s good-looking, well-dressed, and smells nice. He’s also clearly got a position of power here in the company, so it’s probably not difficult for her to assume he’s loaded.

And it’s fine. It’s not like I like him, so she might as well. Someone should. But it would probably be more fitting if the someone who liked him was more of a bridge troll.

As she runs through her qualifications, it becomes clear she probably is a good fit for my previous position. Possibly a better fit than I even was.

When the interview is over, I stare at how long she shakes Trevor’s hand and the way she seems to bat her lashes at him.

When she’s gone, he turns to me like he has for the previous interviews. “I think she’s perfect. Exactly what we’re looking for.”

Something weird happens in my stomach when he calls her perfect. Something hot and uncomfortable. Something that makes my already questionable temperament even worse.

“Of course you do.” I don’t know why I’m so pissed about this. She’s actually exactly what we’re looking for. Probably in more ways than one for Trevor.

Trevor’s brows lift. “Did you not look at her resume?”

I don’t want to be in this room anymore. Not with him. Not with that woman’s resume.

And definitely not with the weird thing in my stomach.

“I have work to do.” I shove up from my chair, sending it wheeling across the room behind me. Grabbing my notebook and the remainder of my coffee—because now I really fucking need caffeine—I step around his chair. “Hire whoever you want.” I practically run from the room, trying to get away from the churning in my gut.

But I don’t leave it behind. It sticks right with me as I storm down the hall to my desk, plopping into my seat before dropping my forehead to the surface.

What is wrong with me? Why do I care about her shiny hair or cute dimples or perfect teeth? I should be happy we’ll have someone who might be able to clean up the mess the last guy made of the supply room.