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“He’s also a jerk,” Gigi goes on, ignoring him.
For real?
Merc huffs. “Hansen is a decent guy. Guy’s a mechanic, works down at Jasper’s Garage. Stop repeating whatever you hear.”
“Oh, shut up, Merc.” Gigi sticks her tongue out at him. “The man had two nannies leave already, in the space of a week, and nobody knows why. You know nothing about him.”
I gape at her. “Two? What happened?”
“They just walked out, said he was rude. The whole town is buzzing about it.”
But I never heard anything.
Then again, I’d been so busy between my graduation from school, sending out college applications and looking for a job that I haven’t done much else these past two months.
“I can handle rude,” I tell her, and look, my bus is arriving. “Wish me luck. And be careful with Quasimodo.”
“His name’s Quinn!” she yells at me as I board the bus. “You’ll love him.”
Merc makes a face of disgust, and I snicker as I get my ticket and find a seat in the back.
Siblings. Always exaggerating, always teasing.
Can’t live without them, can’t put them up for sale on eBay.
The house looks exactly the same as all the houses on the street, so I doublecheck the number, just in case. The garden is overgrown, the fence needs painting, and there’s no sign of life.
Frowning, I take a moment to pat my hair, making sure no stray strands are curling at my temples, and smooth down my dress.
I’m as formal-looking as I’d ever hope to be in my mom’s old dress and shoes. I think they’re vintage. The shoes seem to be from the seventies, suede with a thick heel, and the dress has pearly buttons down the front. It’s cinched tight at the waist and has small plaits fanning out. I’ve thrown a light black coat on top.
I may not be a beauty like Gigi, but I think I look okay.
And Gigi is making a big deal out of everything, I think, as I press the doorbell. She always does. Matthew Hansen can’t be that rude, or that hot.
One thing is clear in my mind: I’m not leaving from this spot until I land this job. I need that money.
Moments pass, and I shift from foot to foot, tugging on my dress sleeves. I feel as if the whole neighborhood is watching me. Was that a curtain twitching behind the window of the house next door?
Sweat trickles down my back despite the cold.
Should I ring the bell again? When I called, asking about the position, he said to come over at eight.
I decide to wait, give him five more minutes. Maybe he’s upstairs, or in the bathroom. I wait and wait, shifting on my heels, rubbing my hands over my thin coat, before ringing again.
It’s ten past eight. Surely, that’s enough time—
The lock turns, and the door swings open with a screech of rusted hinges, the sound making my teeth ache, and I get a glimpse of something dark and… hairy?
A grizzly this far south?
I make out a pair of bright, dark eyes just as a growly voice says, “Hell no.”
And the door slams shut in my face.
Shit.
After a few stunned moments spent questioning first my sanity and then the address, I raise my hand and ring again. It is the right house. And I have an appointment. He can’t leave me outside in the cold.
