New Nebraska Heat (New Nebraska #2)

Chapter 1

Serenity

God, I really needed this job.

My thrift store heels clacked on the marble floor of the Midas building’s bustling reception area. The walls were towering, painted in vibrant shades of red and pastel, contrasting in perfection, and covered in modern art. So tastefully decorated.

If only I could have said the same about myself.

My pencil skirt and blouse, purchased at the same store as my heels, showed a bit of wear and a small stain on one sleeve.

And the skirt was too short. I kept having to tug it down, trying to cover the worst of the scars on my legs.

Unfortunately, the deepest, most vicious of the marks were clearly visible through my pantyhose.

I’d hoped to buy slacks, but every pair hung off me, and it wasn’t just because most of the store’s donations came from paranormals larger than me—I was still much thinner than I should be.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I’d been strong enough to survive everything that had caused the scars and the loss of weight.

I was strong enough to do this too. I clutched my folder of sketches to my chest and walked toward the large, well-dressed lady standing behind the reception desk. She looked like a shifter.

“Hi, I’m Serenity Dawson,” I said. “I’m here for a job interview.”

She sniffed the air and glanced up from a high-tech looking screen set inside the glass desk.

Her nose wrinkled, like she didn’t like my human scent, or maybe she didn’t like the scent of vamps or their venom, that perhaps still lingered or seeped out of my body after several months.

Believe me, the thought of vamp scents disgusted me too.

The first thing I’d done when they’d let me go from the feeding den, and I’d found my way to a shelter, was scrub myself from head to toe. Until my skin was raw.

Her gaze swept over me and her eyes instantly settled on a bad scar on my neck—two thick, dark punctures I hadn’t been able to completely hide with makeup.

There had been the option of a scarf, but I couldn’t stand anything wrapped around that area, not even the gentle press of cotton or wool.

It reminded me too much of things that had led to the scars in the first place.

Her upper lip curled in distaste. “Do you know who you’re meeting with?”

“Um, no, actually. I’m sorry. The interview was set up through my—well, a friend.”

“Which position are you applying for?”

“The logo designer, ma’am.”

She snorted and tapped the screen a couple of times, then picked up a phone and said into it, “I’m so sorry to disturb you, sir.

” Her voice was breathy and completely different than before.

“It’s me.” She said it like the person on the phone should have known who ‘me’ was but by her next words it was clear whoever she was talking to had asked for clarification.

“You know, Sierra. From reception. Your cougar girl for whatever you need,” she said in a flirty rush.

“Well, not that sort of cougar. I am younger than you.” She giggled, a blush darkening her cheeks.

I couldn’t make out his response.

From her frown, I didn’t think she liked his reply. “Yes, well, the first of the design candidates just arrived. And I think there’s something you should know. I’d be happy to come up and—”

He must’ve cut her off. She listened intently.

“Of course, of course.” Her voice was still a flirtatious murmur, but had turned more serious. “I’ll have security escort her up. Just let me know if you want to talk later. I’m always happy to help, Mr. Harding.”

Mr. Harding? Wasn’t that the CEO of Midas? I’d done most of my research on the companies within Midas itself, not on its leadership. But that name sounded familiar. Oh, please tell me I wasn’t about to meet the freaking CEO.

Oh my God, I was meeting the CEO of New Nebraska’s largest, most successful corporation.

I was perched on the edge of a leather chair in a giant office, and sitting across an unnecessarily large desk from a man who had to be one of the wealthiest people in New Nebraska.

His cufflinks and wristwatch looked so fancy they could probably have paid for this building.

Though I suspected he already owned it. Dressed in a dark suit and red tie, he was casually checking over my sketches as I sipped at the water his secretary had brought me.

He hadn’t moved from his chair since I’d walked in—not to shake my hand when I’d offered it, not to take the coffee his secretary had brought in and strangely left on a side table rather than just hand it to him, and not to take my folder of sketches.

I’d been forced to slide it across the desk when he’d made no move to reach out to take it.

Eyes still on the sketches, he lazily flicked through them. “So, Miss Dawson, these are excellent,” he said in a delicate but deep voice. “You’ve got a lot of talent.”

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Thank you so much, sir, I—”

“But I can’t help but notice the design experience on your resume is”—he leaned back in his luxury chair, the leather squeaking as he shifted, mulling my pitch so far—“somewhat lacking.”

His gaze was now firmly fixed on me. Even though he’d just leaned back, he now leaned forward.

Continuing to look at me, he scooted his chair closer for the first time, causing wisps of his cologne to flutter through the air.

Goodness, he smelled amazing. Like citrus and some sort of deep, warm spice.

It reminded me of the ginger cookies I used to make with my mom. We used to put extra clove in them.

The reminder of my childhood home calmed my nerves a bit and I relaxed enough to process why Sierra had been flirting so hard over the phone. He was handsome. Beyond handsome.

Sometimes I didn’t process things like that right away.

My attraction to men had been almost non-existent since I was fifteen, when my foster family sold me into the vampire feeding den.

But there was no denying this guy’s appeal and thankfully, whatever sort of paranormal he was, there was no sign he was a vamp.

He was solidly built and pretty tall—though it was hard to tell exactly how tall since he hadn’t left his chair—but he didn’t have that hulking look of a shifter or pointy Fae ears either. Maybe an elemental?

A very handsome elemental with a square jaw, lightly shaded in stubble. Rich brown hair and eyes the same shade, they delved into mine, staring at me with such an intensity.

Oh, I needed to respond. “Yes, sir, I do realize my experience is a bit scant just now.” I took another sip of water and pressed my free hand to my skirt to stop its shaking.

“But I swear, what I lack in experience, I’ll make up for in initiative and hard work.

I know design. I’ve already started researching the companies you want updated logos and branding for. I know I can do this.”

He nodded and smiled. “I like initiative and a strong work ethic. It wasn’t so long ago I was starting Midas, and with not a whole lot of experience myself.”

That sounded promising. And his eyes, such a warm shade of brown, kept fixed on mine as I thought of my reply. He seemed to be genuinely engaged in what I had to say.

“What you’ve done has been incredible, sir. All the companies, in such a wide range of industries, that you’ve helped flourish. Bringing so much stability to New Nebraska. I’d be honored to work here and I promise to bring that enthusiasm to my design work.” I managed a small smile to return his.

“I like that attitude.” He cleared his throat. “I think HR would kill me for asking, but how old are you?” His gaze danced across my body and he quickly looked away, dropping his head in a shy manner that took me by surprise.

“I’m twenty-two.” God, that probably sounded young to him. He had to be at least mid-thirties if he’d founded Midas, though there wasn’t a gray hair on his head nor a wrinkle on his face.

“Quite young to be so talented.” He looked back up at me, and I swore he stared at my lips this time as he waited for my reply.

“Thank you. I’ve known I wanted to do something with art since I was little, doodling at the kitchen table.

My mother encouraged me to learn design software from an early age.

Then I took graphic design courses online in high school.

” Well, the only two years of high school I’d attended. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Good for you. I’m sure that took drive.” He glanced down at my resume. “You don’t list what high school or college you attended, but I assume they’re outside New Nebraska? You’re human?”

“Yes.” I coughed, feeling a bit uncomfortable about the fact I’d just sort of implied I’d been to college.

“May I ask why you want to work in New Nebraska? Not very common for a human, though I wish more would’ve stayed after the Agreement or decided to relocate here in the years since, like you.”

“To be honest, sir, I’m not sure how long I’ll stay.” I fidgeted in my seat and resisted the urge to tug at my skirt. “But if I get this job, I promise I’ll see it through to the end. I’ll keep working until I’ve delivered exactly what you want.”

“Delivered what I want?” He mumbled under his breath and his eyes flared.

We stared at each other for another moment with his eyes growing wider and a bit wild, then he scrubbed a hand over his face and blinked hard, the heated look disappearing.

“I didn’t mean to pry and I appreciate that answer.

” He looked at my resume again. “And it says here you’ve been teaching drawing and design at a youth shelter here in New Omaha? ”

“Yes. It’s been so rewarding, and really honed my skills.”

“Hmm. Also commendable.” He smiled, another open and genuine expression. I wished I hadn’t had to be deceptive about my lack of education. “And like I said, you’re not short on talent, that’s for sure.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at my sketches again, flicking back and forth a couple of times. “But I’m going to be honest.” He sucked in a breath and sighed through gritted teeth. “There are a lot of candidates coming over the next few days and I suspect many of them will have decades of experience.”

“Of course. But may I say, experience doesn’t always match up to passion.”

“Yes, passion.” He gave a wry smile. Then he tugged at his shirt collar, shook his head and shrugged. “I agree, but there are a lot of candidates to meet. If after talking with them, I think you’re the most suitable, my HR manager will be in touch.” He began gathering up the sketches.

Standing, I leaned over the desk to help, and he jerked back in his chair, pushing it at least three or four feet away on its wheels.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I stepped back. Dammit, I’d done something wrong. But what?

Flustered, his cheeks turning rosy, his gaze swept over me again and he nodded at the sketches. “Go ahead, take them. My secretary will see you out. Thank you for coming.”

I moved close to the desk again, extending my hand, even though I doubted he’d accept it. He didn’t. He just nodded. “Thanks again for coming.”

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity. Have a good day,” I said as I gently waved goodbye.

“You too, Serenity.” He gave me one last look before I turned to leave, his eyes lingering around my face but also sweeping down my legs as his expression hardened.

I wasn’t getting this job. Though he’d been super polite, he must have noticed the feeding marks.

He’d only grown more uncomfortable as the interview went on.

The reason for him jerking away at the end like that was becoming clear: he didn’t want to work with a human who’d let herself—or in my case, been forced to—be a vampire feeding toy.

I sighed. I felt trapped, hopeless. I refused to spend the rest of my life washing dishes and cleaning up after vamps and other paranormals in a strip club. Ironically though it had been the club’s owner, Hunter, who’d pulled some strings to get me this interview.

After being led out by the secretary and getting a frosty goodbye from the receptionist, I stepped out into a brisk fall breeze. The trees lining the sidewalk were bare of leaves. They carpeted the concrete instead. Dead or dying, like my hopes for the future.

A reluctant thought came to me. If I was really willing to do whatever I needed to get out of New Nebraska and have a fresh start, perhaps it was time to ask Hunter if I could go from dishwasher to dancer.