Chapter 20 #3
Even though he was an Adonis, this Mr. Earnshaw also looked like a complete wanker. He scrunched up that perfectly-sculpted nose, his lips curling back into a sneer. “What the devil is an app?”
What kind of weird question is that? “Um… you know, an application for your phone, so you can get the bus timetable or talk to your mates or—”
“Don’t talk to me about phones,” Earnshaw snapped. “People spend too much time on their phones.”
Right. I’d forgotten the part in the job ad about hating ebooks.
This guy must be one of those weirdos who eschews technology.
“Oh, I agree. I mean, phones should only be used for calling people. And checking social media. That’s it.
I would never read on mine,” I blubbered, shoving my phone behind my back.
“I mean, studies have shown it can cause long-term eye damage and—”
“No matter how long you keep talking, it’s not going to change the fact that we’re closed. What do you want?”
“I’m applying for the assistant’s job.” I fumbled in my purse for the envelope I’d carefully sealed, trying to avoid accidentally showing him the ereader tucked behind my makeup case. “I’ve got my resume in here for you with all my qualifications and—”
“I don’t need that. If you want the job, tell me why I should hire you.”
“Right, well…” This was the weirdest interview I’ve ever been to.
Earnshaw’s eyes stabbed right through me, turning my insides to mush.
I opened my mouth, but then he blinked, long black lashes tangling together over those eyes – they were like black holes, gobbling whole universes for lunch.
A shiver started at the base of my neck and rocketed down my spine, not stopping until it caressed me between my legs.
Now I wanted the job more than ever, just so I could stare at this specimen all day. Bloody hell, I always did have a thing for surly bad boys. I blamed Emily Bronte. The brutish and untamable Heathcliff ruined me for nice guys.
“If your answer is to gape at me like a bespawling lubberwort,” he growled, “then you can take the job and shove it where the sun don’t shine—”
“That’s not my answer.” My cheeks flared with heat.
Who even is this guy? Adonis or not, how’d he get off talking to customers and potential employees like that?
No wonder the place is deserted. “I was just collecting my thoughts. You should hire me because I’m a hard worker.
I’m punctual. I have some retail experience, as well as design expertise so I can do graphics and window displays—”
“I don’t care. Why do you want to work here? No one wants to work here. That was the whole point of the ad.”
I racked my brain for an answer to that question.
What does he want from me? “Um… I guess because I used to hang out in the bookshop all the time as a kid. I know where all the books go and I’ve personally helped Mr. Simson fix that till on at least two occasions.
” I pointed to the ancient contraption the raven was pecking.
Earnshaw glared at me, his eyes flicking over my face as though searching for something. He didn’t say a thing. The silence stretched between us until even the raven got bored of hunting for worms in the credit card machine and stared at me, too.
Is he waiting for more?
“And… um, I have all sorts of useful skills.” I scrambled for anything that might endear me to this strong-chinned man. “I have a fashion degree, so that’s probably not useful. But I am a Millennial, so I can do the store’s social media. I could build a website—”
You can see it, can’t you? That strange voice said. It’s obvious. She’s the one he told you about.
Earnshaw grunted. I narrowed my eyes at him. Does he hear it, too?
Just hire her already, that voice said again. She’s pretty.
“Hey!” I glanced over my shoulder, looking for the owner of the voice so I could kick them in the nuts. But there was no one else in the room.
Was it Earnshaw? But the voice didn’t sound like him, and judging by the way he was still staring at me, he already thought I was nuts. Maybe he didn’t hear the voice after all?
Besides, the voice sounded like it came from inside my head.
Please, don’t tell me that on top of everything else, I’m now hallucinating voices—
I like her, the voice interrupted. I bet she’ll bring me treats. Berries, smoked salmon, maybe even a mouse.
I peered over my shoulder again. Are they hiding in the hallway? Behind the beanbag stack? “Who’s there?”
Earnshaw’s head whipped up. “Who are you talking to?”
“You didn’t hear that? I think that raven just told me I’m pretty.”
I was kidding, but Earnshaw’s eyes narrowed. He reached out and clamped an enormous hand around the raven’s beak. “Don’t be ridiculous. Ravens don’t have opinions. You didn’t leave the door open, did you? We’re supposed to be closed.”
“No. I…” My shoulders sagged. Who am I kidding? This is hopeless. “I guess I’ll just be going now. Thank you for your time and—”
“You start tomorrow,” Earnshaw glowered. “We open at nine. Be here at eight-thirty, but don’t let anyone else in. If you’re late, the bird gets your paycheck. Welcome to Nevermore Bookshop.”