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Malcolm looked intrigued.
Ian looked a little bored, to be honest.
Dylan looked annoyed.
“How old are you?” Malcolm asked.
That caught me off guard. “Twenty-three.”
He didn’t say anything else.
“Why do you want this position?” Dylan asked.
I gave him the answer he probably expected, the rehearsed one about opportunity and growth, blah, blah, blah.
“What is your greatest strength?” Malcolm asked.
It went on like that for another twenty minutes. Malcolm finally said, “There’s a fine line between offering suggestions for improvement and between insulting the owners of a product.”
Ouch. Okay. Lesson learned. The hard way. A few practice interviews prior to this one would have been helpful but at least I could say I’d gone for it. I hadn’t just sat there passively and hoped they would hire me.
“You managed to walk that line,” Malcolm continued.
I sat up straighter. “Thank you.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Dylan said, and he stood up.
That was my cue to leave.
I followed suit, standing up and praying I hadn’t created sweat streaks down the front of my skirt. I put my shoulders back and gathered my handbag. Sell myself as a confident businessman. Easier said than done but I was proud of how I’d handled myself.
I was also eager to get out of there. The bra had to go.
We said polite goodbyes and all of that and they all remained in the office while I strolled quickly to my car. Well, not my car. I had borrowed one of Cash’s. The second I was inside, I dumped my handbag on the passenger seat and reached up the back of my shirt and unhooked the bra.
“Ah, thank goodness,” I said out loud in the stuffy car. It was a warm day and the car had baked in the parking lot, the sun beating down on it.
No one was around so I decided to ditch the bra altogether. I went up under the front of my shirt and shimmied the straps off each shoulder. I yanked the whole offensive contraption off. “You’re the damn devil,” I told the bra, wrinkling my nose. “And you’re going in the trash.”
A knock on my window made me jump as I gave a tiny shriek. It was MacKay, standing there, staring at the very unsexy bra I was still holding in my hand. I tossed it on the passenger seat. It tangled with the straps of my handbag. I pushed my hair off of my shoulder and sent the window down.
“Hi,” I said, striving for total nonchalance. “Did I forget something in the office?”
“Hmm?” MacKay’s gaze was now fixed on my chest.
I glanced down. The white shirt was pulled tight, a couple of buttons straining. My nipples were tight peaks pushing against the thin fabric. There was peekaboo boob through the gaps created by the pull of the buttons. I sighed. “Did I forget something? Or is there something you need?”
“Is there something I need?” MacKay said, his head snapping up to stare at me intently. “Are you trying to torture me?”
I shook my head. “No, I really wasn’t. I’m genuinely wondering why you’re standing next to my car.”
But he was distracted. “How did you get your bra off so fast?”
“MacKay.” I was amused, but I was also hot and my feet hurt. Business casual was bullshit. I was at heart just a country girl. I preferred my denim shorts and tank tops. I wanted to go home and change into something comfortable. Which would basically be anything other than this.
He blinked. “Sorry. We had one last question for you. How would you feel about relocating to Kentucky?”
“Oh! I don’t know. I didn’t know that was an option.” Then because prospective employers weren’t exactly beating down my door, I knew I shouldn’t close the door on anything. “I would consider it.”
