Chapter 3
Millie
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” My dad’s deep voice emanates through the car’s speaker. “Your interview is going to be great.”
I turn on my blinker and guide my 4Runner onto the main road I take to the museum. Usually, I would walk to work, but I didn’t
want today’s humidity to make my hair any frizzier before my interview.
“Oh, Dave,” my mom says, her reminiscing tone cutting in. “Do you remember when she saved all those caterpillars that the
chickens were going after? I still have nightmares about when they got loose in the house and I found one on my pillow.”
I wince. “Thanks, Mom. That was a sweet memory to bring up.”
“I think about that day all the time. I was very grossed out but so proud of you,” Mom coos. “Have been since the day you
were born.”
The car’s brakes squeak as I pause at a stoplight. “Well, hopefully, you’ll still be proud of me after I try to convince a
board of directors and a few department heads that I deserve this job.”
Dad hums thoughtfully. “If you need me to come down there and talk some sense into them—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I definitely don’t need you telling anyone to hire me. I trust their decisions.”
Mom sighs. “You say the word, and we’ll be on our way. We’ll round up your sisters too.” The thought warms my heart. They would totally do it. Abandon the family farm and drive an hour just to stand up for me.
“I appreciate it, but I really want to get this job all on my own. Not because my parents made a ruckus in the museum,” I
tease.
“Okay, sweetie. Don’t worry about anything and remember how special you are,” Mom reminds me.
I roll my eyes. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to tell them you said I am special .” My blinker ticks through the car as I turn into the museum parking lot.
“And we are always proud of you,” Dad says firmly.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “I love you both,” I tell them before grabbing my phone from the console to end the
call.
As I press my thumb to the screen, the phone slips from my fingers and drops below my feet with a thud . “Shit,” I spit out, leaning down as far as I can to grab it while keeping one eye on the pavement in front of me. I slam
on the brake when an SUV rolls into my path, and a sharp crack splits through the quiet car.
That sounded suspiciously like my phone screen.
“Fuck.” Let’s see how many more curse words this morning can pull from my lips. I glance up once and see the SUV’s brake lights,
so I duck my head, lift my foot from the brake pedal, and slide my phone out from under it.
The silence in my car ends with a loud crunch , and my forehead knocks into the dashboard as I collide with the car in front of me.
“Shit. Fuck. Damn it,” I growl, aggressively sliding the gearshift into park and rubbing my hand over my forehead to calm
the ache.
Of all the mornings.
How is a woman supposed to impress in an interview with this kind of start to the day?
I raise my head a centimeter at a time. Just as the hood of my car comes into view, my stomach drops as my eyes land on the
other driver.
He’s doing his Kylo Ren impression, storming toward me with a scowl so tight that he might crack his teeth. His dark hair
blows with the force of his steps as fury oozes off him, permeating the parking lot.
Those eyes are the fiercest I’ve ever seen them, glaring lasers through my windshield like I’m the enemy force he’s been sent
to obliterate.
I have now spilled coffee on him, smashed his nose, and just literally run into him with a moving vehicle.
Those lasers might be deserved.
Finn plants his feet on the concrete at the front corner of my car and crosses his arms over his chest. He waits silently,
nostrils flaring with every breath.
I lift myself the rest of the way up, and his eyes land on my face. His features don’t shift at all, giving me no inkling
of whether he knew who was in this car. Gripping my phone between my shaking fingers, I push open my door, get out, and snap
it shut with my hip.
Smoothing out my black pencil skirt, I walk unsteadily on my heels to meet Finn at the front of my car. His violent-thunderstorm
eyes are raging as they scan my face, shoulders, and quickly down my body before they pop back up.
My stomach curls into knots as I reach him. “I’m so sorry. I was talking to my parents. They were wishing me good luck on my interview this morning. But I dropped my phone accidentally.” My flustered babbling hasn’t changed his expression in the slightest. “I heard the screen break.” I show him the crack running through the middle of my phone. “But when I looked down to grab it, I guess I bumped into your car.”
“You guess?” he rumbles, raising an eyebrow. “I’d say you definitely did.”
I expel a long breath as I flick my eyes toward his car and take in the deep indentation with a dark scratch across it.
“Maybe you should go back to walking to work. You appear to be out of practice with driving.” His lips lift in a minuscule
smirk, and he seems to bite the inside of his cheek to stop it.
Heat spreads through my veins as I straighten my spine. “Now who’s watching who arrive at work in the morning?” My hip pops
to the side as I cross my arms over my chest. “And these heels would be miserable to walk to work in.”
Finn’s assessing gaze trails down my skirt and bare calves until he reaches my royal purple heels. His throat works on a swallow
before he murmurs, “Impractical.”
I don’t bother to respond as I step around him, walking between our cars to investigate the damage. Hiking up my skirt, I
bend to run my fingers over Finn’s smashed bumper.
Well, shit. I don’t know much about car bumper repairs, but I’m guessing that’ll be an expensive fix.
Finn lets out a loud, exasperated breath behind me. I stand and face his hard scowl and dark eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the damages,” I mumble.
His eyes narrow. “Instead of just paying for a new phone screen, you’ve put yourself in a position to pay for two ruined bumpers
as well.”
“It’s called a mistake,” I sass, dropping my hands to my hips. “We lowly peasants make them sometimes.” I point my chin to
an empty spot beside us. “If you’ll let me park right there—”
“That happens to be the space I was pulling into.” Finn tightens his arms over his black tie with tiny astronauts, pulling his shirt’s midnight fabric taut across his shoulders.
“Okay,” I huff. “I will go find a different spot, and then we can exchange insurance information.”
Finn grumbles something under his breath as he looks down at his watch. His eye twitches before he says, “I don’t have time
for that this morning. You’ll have to find me later.”
Then he turns on his heel and prowls back to his open car door.
***
The marble floor sparkles as I hustle through the museum toward my interview. My momentum is creating a breeze that I’m hoping
will cool the sweat coating my skin.
I’ve been a wreck since my literal wreck twenty minutes ago. I didn’t have a spare moment to process my thoughts before the
interview because the event in the parking lot has shoved itself to the forefront of my mind.
Why didn’t I just let the phone crumble to bits?
It would’ve been better than feeling flustered and frazzled. No one wants to walk into a job interview like this, least of
all a woman in a scientific field dominated by men, where I’m already analyzed on a different level.
I was the only woman in the entomology department at my university, so I constantly struggled with being dismissed as a scientist.
One college professor presented a stag beetle to our class and announced, “I’m sure Millie won’t want to hold this one, but
I know the rest of you will.”
Condescending jerk.
Like my gender meant I couldn’t handle touching an insect. In an act of feminist defiance, I started a stag beetle habitat
in my dorm room that weekend.
Until I got caught by the resident assistant and had to donate them to the same professor who embarrassed me. At least I got the satisfaction of one biting him on the way into its enclosure.
They never bit me, Dr. Hibbard.
Most people thought I would change my mind about insects. That I would wake up one day and start screaming when I saw them,
like the token blonde in a cheesy horror movie.
Instead, I graduated with a 4.0 and a job lined up at the National Butterfly Center. The patronizing little comments whispered
behind my back didn’t stop me. They only fueled my fire to prove I belonged.
I pause in the hallway outside the interview room and force a deep breath while my stomach churns—the first sign of my impending
anxiety spiral.
Sweeping my hands over my hair, I try to control the frizz and will my hands to stop shaking. Oxygen swirls in my lungs as
I slowly inhale, vowing to leave all the events of this morning right here in the hallway on my exhale. Once I step inside,
there will be no more thoughts of fender benders and angry coworkers. This is a fresh start for the day, and it’s imperative
I forget everything else.
One more deep breath out, and I grab the door handle.
I pull it open with all the false confidence I can muster, and my gaze immediately lands on navy blue eyes.
In a sea of eight people, those twin flames are all I can distinguish for a moment.
My knees go weak, and I stumble over the threshold but manage to stay upright. Finn’s gaze narrows, and he tilts his head.
His lips kick up arrogantly on one side, almost like he’s looking forward to what’s about to happen.