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The other job that looks good is the one that mentions the salary, and its way above average for clerical work in the city. I did do a little research before I came out here. I didn’t expect to find work that pays much. I have savings that can cover my apartment costs for a few years. All I really need is enough to get the essentials and to save to keep affording my rent.
I have to apply for the job with the good salary.
It doesn’t mention a need for experience or qualifications. That might be a mistake, or the job might be a nightmare, but I can’t ignore the chance to earn that kind of money.
“I’d ignore these two,” the stranger says, pointing out the top two options. “That first one’s a scam.”
“A scam?” I ask, raising my eyebrows as I give it another glance.
“It’s not a job. It’s basically an ad trying to sell you a course, and not even a properly accredited course.”
He’s right. Once I start reading it, I can see that.
“Not a job,” I muse, wondering how hard it’s actually going to be to get one.
“You might want to avoid this one, too,” he points out. “They’re not looking for someone with experience. That means …”
“They want a kid they so they can pay them peanuts.” I smile wryly at him.
“Pretty much,” he says with a shrug. “Sorry, clearly you know what you’re doing. I should just shut up and eat my breakfast.”
He unwraps his pastry and takes a bite, looking pretty damn cute when he tastes it.
No, Leanne. No finding random strangers cute. You’ve been in the city all of five minutes.
The last thing you need is a hook up. Remind me again how you ended up with a daughter?
And that’s the face full of cold water that I needed.
I moved out here to be close to Secret, to get to know my daughter better after two decades of letting her think I was just her troubled, alcoholic older sister.
I didn’t move out here to meet guys and start dating.
Men are nothing but trouble. Alphas especially, but that doesn’t mean Betas can’t break your heart, too. This one might seem sweet, and helpful, and kind of dorky, but none of that is a guarantee.
He’s also a guy in his twenties living in a big city full of beautiful women.
I doubt he’s on the look out for a girlfriend who’s getting close to forty and has a daughter at university. Never mind the rest. No man wants to take on the burden of trauma that comes along with dating a woman who was almost unalived by the world’s most prolific serial killer.
It doesn’t matter that Frank Palmer is dead and gone.
I’ll never truly full safe anywhere after what I went through.
I fight back a shudder as I force myself to read the next few job vacancies on my tablet.
One of the last four disappears while I’m reading the others, so I guess it got filled.
One out of the other three sounds like it was written by a pissed off Alpha with anger issues. It’s a small business, apparently, which means I’d probably have to interact with said Alpha. No thanks.
The other two are sketchy on the pay details, but I decide to apply for them anyway.
I apply for the P.I. Assistant job, and the well-paid clerical one, and then I switch off my tablet.
Cute Christmas Sweater guy is still working on his pastry and his hot chocolate.
I sip at my coffee. It’s starting to go cold. That probably means it’s time to leave.
“I’m guessing you’re new in town?” the guy asks as I’m putting the tablet away.
