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He looks up, eyeing Fiona and me with raised eyebrows. He’s older, maybe in his fifties, and very handsome. He has dark eyes and dark hair with a few gray streaks at his temples. He looks familiar.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his deep voice slightly breathless from exertion.
“I’m Fiona Flowers, and this is Charlotte Bennett. Dr. Jackson mentioned that you were hiring.”
“Oh yes.” There’s a hint of recognition in his gaze when he looks at me. “He’s right about that. Are you film students?”
“I’m an English major, but I’m one of Dr. Jackson’s students,” I say with a shy smile.
“And I’m undecided, but I could really use a job,” Fiona quips.
“I’m John.” The man extends his hand, and we both shake it in turn. “Charlotte Bennett,” John says with a wide grin. “You’re Martin Conner’s daughter.”
My expression falters, but I catch it before it falls. “Stepdaughter, yes—how do you know Martin?”
“He was a business partner of mine,” John says, his expression unreadable. “He actually sold me this place a while back.”
Of course he did, I think. My stepfather is a wealthy property investor and a workaholic.
“It just took me a while to start updating it,” John says with an apologetic lilt to his voice.“Anyway”—he claps his hands together in a back-to-business way—“the work is a bit of a smorgasbord. This is a small theater, so I want the staff to be able to run everything—concessions, the ticket booth, the projectors. You would also clean theaters, help with inventory, and build movies when they come in.”
“Build movies?” I ask frowning.
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry. These are things I would train you on. We have to purchase our movies from special vendors because the projectors are so old. We still use Mylar film and have to cut and tape the movies together. They normally come in four smaller reels of film that we build into one large reel with a building table.”
Fiona and I exchange confused looks.
John laughs. “It’s easier than it sounds.”
“So are you a big cinephile?” I ask politely.
“I am to some extent, but this place is actually a bit of a pet project for my son, who loves movies as well. He’ll open the place as general manager once we finish up some renovations.”
The back door bursts open, and a dark-haired boy with thick black glasses peeks around the lobby, pausing when he spots John.
“Sorry, John,” he says haltingly, his voice edged with panic. He’s sweating profusely. “There’s a guy here with soda syrup, but he only brought Diet Pepsi and Dr. Pepper. Everything else is missing, and I’m not really sure what to do.”
“It’s fine, Damon. We’re just wrapping up.” John glances at us. “Why don’t you write down your numbers, and I’ll call you with the details on when you can start.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to formally interview us?” I ask.
John shakes his head. “You have Dr. Jackson’s recommendation in my eyes, and that’s enough for me. I’ll be in touch soon.”
He gives us a cordial nod and follows Damon through the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
CHARLIE
Fiona and I leave the theater just as it starts to rain in earnest. We glance at each other and break into a run, heading for the closest coffee shop. I’m soaking wet by the time we enter, my boots squeaking on the tile floor as I run into someone very tall and firm. The person’s arms fly wide, attempting to save his hot coffee from sloshing onto the floor. His scent, a subtle mix of sandalwood and pine, envelops me, and I shake my head, trying to think straight. I look up into a pair of stunning gray eyes, dark and turbulent like an incoming storm.
Lincoln.
“I’m so sorry.” I step back and glance at his coffee cup. The liquid drips down his wrist and onto the sleeve of his pristine white shirt.
His gaze hardens when he recognizes me. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going.” His voice would be a deep, sexy timbre if not for the snobby undertone.
Wait, what? Not sexy. What’s the opposite of sexy?
