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Evan frowns and slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “She just told you, Kitty.”
Boss blows out a big breath and stands up, going to the filing cabinet in the corner and pulling out a folder. I watch him move, his steps sure and the muscles in his arms tense. His head lifts for a moment and I look to what he’s staring at. Above the filing cabinet on the wall sits a framed photograph, all the men wearing special forces uniforms. That explains his curtness.
“See, when Evan told me about you, I did a little digging, I don’t want anyone here who I can’t trust. You get me?”
“Uh huh.”
“So, I’ll ask you again… What’s your name?”
I worry my lip, my eyes pinging back and forth between Boss and Evan. He wouldn’t be asking any of this if he didn’t already know.
“Katherine Walker.”
Evan’s eyes almost pop out of his head as he looks at me, stumbling forward. “Walker? As in… Senator Walker?”
“The one and only.” I smirk, rolling my eyes. “Or douche dad as I like to call him.”
Evan snorts and Boss smirks.
“I take it you don’t agree with what he does?” Boss asks.
“Hell no, I don’t!” I stand up, starting to pace in front of them. “Do you know how many shelters he closed last year? How many jobs he cut? People are out there struggling and he’s making it worse while he sits all high and mighty in his castle of a home, being served on hand and foot. The dude’s an asshat.”
Boss flips a few pages in his folder and looks back up to me. “This says you can shoot.”
“I can.” I nod affirmative. It’s probably one of the only things I can thank him for.
“What else can you do?” he asks.
“If I told you… I’d have to kill you.” I smirk.
He throws his head back and laughs. “I like you… you’re hired.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yep, be here Monday at eight.”
I frown, realizing that I only have one day left at the motel. With no cash, I’m at an impasse.
“Evan? Do you think I could stay with you awhile? Just until I get on my feet.”
He raises his brow and folds his arms across his chest.
“You have nowhere to stay?” Boss asks.
I scuff the front of my boot against the floor, looking ashamed at the fact that I’m having to ask for help. I hate having to do that.
“I’ve been staying at the motel but I only have one night left.”
Boss leans back on the sofa, his face thoughtful. He’s silent for several moments, his eyes watching me carefully.
“How are you with tools?”
“I can DIY,” I say with confidence.
“I have this cottage toward the start of the woods, it needs some major work, but if you do all the work, it’s yours.”
“Really?”
