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"Uh, thanks, I guess," I shrug, "but what job is this exactly?"
Stephen chuckles and gestures toward a high-top table next to us with three stools. Nodding, I move to the table and take a seat between the men. I don't miss the way Stephen subtly scoots closer to Dom, leaning his large arm into the other man's side.
"Do you have any computer or organizational skills? Do you feel like you'd be comfortable in an office setting?" Stephen asks. My brows furrow, not missing that he hasn't stated what the job is yet.
I open my mouth to respond, but Dom quickly jumps in. "Of course, she does. She was a teacher, which means she at least has what, a bachelor’s degree?"
Swallowing, I nod. "I was a dual major in English and Business Communications, and I have a minor in Early Childhood Education."
"See! She's brilliant, and she's more than likely excellent with organization, paperwork, and probably even computers."
Stephen snickers and places his hand on Dom's before squeezing it gently. "Let her talk," he murmurs. Looking between the two of them, it's clear to see they both harbor feelings for one another, and it makes my heart squeeze. I want someone to look at me that way. Cole never looked at me adoringly.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Shiloh, Jesus.
Turning back toward me, Stephen smiles and juts his chin out, signaling me to continue. Clearing my throat, I give him my list of qualifications for an unknown job at a random, surprise interview. By the time we're done discussing my past work experience, I'm beyond impressed with myself. I can't believe I was able to hold an intelligent conversation after so much vodka.
"My brothers and I own a construction company called Huxley Homes. It was our father’s, and he passed it down to my brothers and me. Logan is the only one who works there, day in and day out, managing everything. Charlie does construction and works on the build sites. I help manage the finances, but I'm unable to be there for the company as much as I should be."
"You're doing what you love, and Logan understands that," Dom says softly, noticing the guilty expression on Stephen's face. The latter smiles softly but doesn't agree with him.
"Anyways, Logan is the oldest out of the three of us, and as I said, he manages everything. It's a lot of work, and I've been telling him for years that he needs to hire an office assistant. He's had a few, but they were all just temporary, and we really need someone stable. It would be a lot of filing, inputting data, answering phones," he pauses with a grimace, "maybe even some light cleaning up around the office at the beginning."
"Cleaning?" Not that I mind cleaning, but the way Stephen says it has me thinking there's some sort of unspoken information there.
Nodding, he grunts, "Yep."
Dom slaps Stephen on the arm and rolls his eyes. "What he means is that Logan is sort of a tornado."
"Tornado?" I deadpan. "What the hell does that mean? Like he's messy?"
Stephen and Dom share a conspiratorial grin that has my hackles rising. "Yes? No?" he shrugs. "He's just a very busy man who really needs help. He cares more about projects, deadlines, and making sure that everyone is happy and taken care of, than he does about anything else. The office desperately needs some TLC, and Logan isnotthe man for the job."
My brows lift to my hairline. "You've been there?"
Dom cackles and raises his hand in the air. "Meet temporary office assistants numbers one through three."
Now it's my turn to laugh. "What does that mean, and how does that happen?"
He shrugs again, looking completely unphased. Meanwhile, Stephen has his hand covering his mouth, holding his laughter back, while staring down at the table like it holds all of life's answers. Smart man.
"It means, I worked there for a day, then quit. Went back the next week, lasted two days, and then quit again. Came back a few hours later that same day to try again, and quit thirty minutes later."
"You do understand that all of that information does not bode well for this job. You're not exactly painting an inviting picture to a prospective employee," I state, pointing out the obvious.
"It had nothing to do with the job and everything to do with me.” Dom sighs in exasperation. “I'm not made for office life, honey. Look at me. I'm meant to be out in the world, being seen and enjoyed. I like loud atmospheres where I get to talk to people and hang out with drunks. It suits me. What does not suit me is a quiet office, where I'm left to nothing but my thoughts and the voices in my head."
Stephen and I both burst out laughing at that, but I have a feeling Dom's declaration was 100% honest. While I totally cannot picture him in the environment that he described, I can picture myself there. In fact, it sounds completely perfect. My OCD is already panting at the idea of organizing an office, and getting it in running order.
There could be sticky notes, tabs, files, color coding. Don't even get me started on what I can do with a label maker. The idea of having some peace and quiet after the chaos of my life the last few years sounds kind of wonderful.
Am I actually going to do this?
"So, what do you think, Miss Shiloh? Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?" Stephen asks, tossing a wink in my direction that would make me swoon in literally any other circumstance.
Grinning, I nod and thrust my hand out, "What the hell? I'm in."
Stephen's brows raise in surprise, but he places his hand in mine, giving me a firm shake. "Don't you want to talk hours and pay? Benefits? Vacation?"
