Page 3 of See You Next Tuesday

“This is me,” he said, opening the trunk of a shiny tan Land Rover that looked brand-new.

“Holy shit,” Anya muttered, realizing Gabe wasn’t just annoyingly hot; he was also annoyingly rich.

“What?” He looked vaguely self-conscious.

“Oh, um, that’s a lot of toilet paper,” she covered.

“Enough for the rest of June!” Gabe winked and handed her a big cardboard box. It was light but incredibly unwieldy, and Anya had to widen her gait considerably to keep hold of it.

“You okay there?” he asked. He was carrying his box with one arm.

“Fine,” she insisted.

“Because I can help you,” he offered.

“I thought the whole point was that I was helping you,” she huffed.

“Let’s talk about that,” he said. “What do you hope to do here this summer?”

Anya’s nerves buzzed as she clicked into her most confident and professional persona—something she always loved doing, although never before had she done it while carrying a giant box of toilet paper.

“I’ve volunteered on campaigns for the last three years, mostly in field,” she said. “I have extensive experience with canvasses and phone banks—cutting turf, managing volunteer shifts. And last year on Congresswoman Kantor’s campaign, I even helped write call scripts, so I’d love to do more of that.”

“That’s excellent,” Gabe said, and Anya felt a thrill of approval. “I think you could be an important part of my team.”

“Really?!” Anya turned to him with excitement…and nearly plowed into the office door.

“Easy, killer.” Gabe swept in front of her to open the door with his obnoxiously free hand. But instead of letting her pass, he stood in the doorway, gazing down at her. “I was saying, I think you could really help me out here. I could see you being, like, my deputy.”

“That’s amazing,” Anya blurted, forgetting to play this even remotely cool. She was used to rising quickly on campaigns, but a promotion from no-name volunteer to deputy whatever-Gabe’s-title-was in the course of a single conversation? That was good, even for her.

“Yeah.” He smiled broadly in the sunshine, which made him look so beautiful it was frankly unfair. “I mean, I’ve been thinking it would be great to have someone run the more operational aspects of my workload, keep things humming while I put out fires.”

“Definitely.” Anya nodded vigorously. “And do you think— I mean, is it possible this could be a paid position? Not a lot or anything, maybe enough to eat something other than Easy Mac for dinner?”

“No promises, but I can certainly put in a good word.” Gabe held the door for Anya to follow him back into the office. He led her to the kitchen, where he laid his box on the floor and took hers to stack on top of it, their fingers brushing as he did.

“Gabe, where are the paper plates? They’re not under the sink.”

Curmudgeonly frizzy-haired woman was back. She didn’t seem impressed by Gabe at all.

“We have all those cleaning chemicals under the sink, so I figured better to keep the plates in the hall closet? Seemed safer,” Gabe explained. “What do you think?”

He was looking at her like a puppy dog waiting for a pat on the head—odd for a paid staffer to seek approval from a volunteer. Anya supposed he was one of those guys who needed everyone to tell him how great he was.

“Smart,” she responded flatly, then looked at Gabe. “You’re not so useless for a guy who graduated college two weeks ago.”

She let out a little humph, then trudged off. Anya turned to Gabe with narrowed eyes.

“You graduated two weeks ago?”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“But you have a paying job here?” she pressed.

He looked at her sheepishly. “Not exactly.”

“What?! But I thought—”