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Grabbing his waist apron off a hook as soon as he entered, he paused after tying it in place to punch his time card.
Gus had closed his office door until it was just barely cracked. Being that Logan’s boss always left it hanging open wide, Logan assumed Gus was in the middle of something important.
“…have any experience with food service?” Gus’s rich, thickly accented voice floated into the hall.
Logan paused when he realized his boss was in the middle of an interview.
Please be someone hirable, please be someone hirable.
A part of him craved a little relief from the hectic schedule he’d been working since the onset of the fall semester, while another part of him knew he needed the extra hours—or rather, the extra income—to keep himself afloat. His apartment manager had raised the rent last month, and his textbooks had cost almost twice as much this semester as they had last. Even the price of the e-book texts he’d ordered had been more expensive.
“I worked at a small ice cream parlor in high school,” the interviewee—a female—answered Gus’s question. “For about…six months, I think.”
Her voice floated out, stirring something in Logan. Vaguely familiar, it drew him. The texture, the tone, the rhythm of her words were so lulling, he half-closed his eyes, feeling almost drunk from listening to her.
“But the manager liked my work performance so much he gave me a raise before I had to leave for college.”
Something about her dialect—the way she strung her words together, the pace and rhythm with which she spoke—reminded him of Creighton County. A homesick ache split a huge gash through the center of his chest before he could rein it in. Her mention of ice cream parlors stirred an image of that old-time shop called Dairy Delight in Landry, the biggest town in Creighton County. They made the best orange cream sherbet; his mouth watered just thinking about it.
“And this was at…Dairy Delight, right?” Gus asked.
“That’s right,” the girl answered. “It’s legendary in my area.”
Frowning, Logan moved closer to the cracked opening. When he made out the back of the girl’s head, he caught his breath. The silky dark hair falling midway down her back revealed exactly who was interviewing for a position.
He yanked himself backward and bit out a silent curse, no
t sure what to do. Karma definitely hated him. With the size of Granton, he was never supposed to see her around campus again. So what was with seeing her every time he turned around?
He couldn’t quit. Every college-student friendly job was probably already snagged since school was back in session. His chances of finding another anywhere in town were probably zip. But he couldn’t take Paige’s opportunity for a job away from her either.
He knew Trace hadn’t come from a wealthy family. She probably needed an income as badly as he did.
Maybe he could wait to see if Gus actually hired her, then take his boss aside and beg him not to schedule them with any shifts together. Of course, then he’d have to explain why, and Logan wasn’t sure how to finagle a convincing lie.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, hurrying away from the train wreck—er, interview—in progress and Paige Zukowski’s enticing voice.
Only one guy manned the counter when Logan hurried into the front.
“We need more large latte cups, medium smoothie cups, long spoons, and straws,” Ricky called as soon as Logan appeared, the rest of his attention focused on the blender where he was mixing something pink. A small line of customers had formed at the counter, waiting to be served.
“On it,” Logan answered, letting his co-worker know he’d heard him. He disappeared into the back, hurried into the storage closet, and hunted up the requested supplies. His arms were full when he elbowed the door open and entered the hall.
“Logan!” Gus’s voice stalled him, making him jump and almost drop the box of straws. Fumbling to catch them and not drop the spoons as well, he didn’t notice the girl at his boss’s side until he finally glanced up.
“This is Paige,” Gus said, setting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing with a measure of what looked like fatherly pride. “She’s going to start tonight. And I want you to train her.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not working with him.” Paige whirled to gape at Gus Winders, hoping he was joking.
This all had to be a horrible, awful, terrible joke.
She’d gotten such good vibes about working at The Squeeze. How could Logan Xander be an employee here too? And how could anyone suggest he actually train her?
Mr. Winders pulled back, his eyebrows arching with startled disbelief as he glanced between her and the murderer. “You two know each other?”
“No!” she spat out, appalled by the very idea at the same moment Logan Xander declared his own emphatic, “No.”
Gus blinked, showing his blank confusion.
