Chapter Eight
Terese sat on the couch, clicking through the channels, trying not to think about her date. Did Drew really have to work or was he making excuses? Thoughts whirled in her head, dancing back and forth from sexy Drew to her financial troubles. She shook her head. Focus! Get the interview and stop using Drew as a distraction.
Tossing the remote on the table, she stood, taking a deep breath. Time to face the music. She found the application information for Drake Industries right where she’d dropped it, in a pile of bills. Eyeing the instructions, she wandered over to her laptop to tweak her resume to fit the jobs listed. Concierge fit her perfectly. She did know most of the city’s restaurants and hot spots inside and out. Event planner sounded much more fun though.
She chewed her lip, as she tapped out a few changes to her resume. It might be too late to send it. The ad dated back months ago. By now, they’d be in the middle of interviews. She stopped typing and grabbed her phone. Someone on her contacts list must have an in at Drake.
As she scrolled through the list, her doorbell rang. Her breath caught as her brain hopefully chimed, “Drew.”
Opening the door, she found her boss standing on her steps. Alan Reid, dressed in a sharp suit, sandy hair glinting in the setting sunlight, smiled down at her. As always, an air of casual authority haloed around him.
He dipped his head in greeting. “Hello, Terese.”
Caught off guard, she automatically stepped back. Alan took it as in invitation and entered her apartment. She ducked behind the door to let him pass.
“Hey, uh, Alan. Hi. Come on in.” She absently bit her thumbnail. Was she allowed to talk to her boss at all? Those IRS guys came off as über intimidating. But it was Alan, the man who pulled her off the streets all those years ago. Okay, not quite that melodramatic, but he did help her find a way to afford school. She waved him into the living room and shut the door.
“So umm, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She kept her tone cool and aloof.
“Terese.” His tight smile and hooded blue eyes said he was aware of the IRS visit and her apprehension. He was the king of reading people. She dropped her chin to her chest, defeated without him saying more than her name. “It’s fine.”
Typical Alan. He always gave a kind word when you needed it. His handsome, rough-cut exterior camouflaged his huge heart and quiet soul.
She wasn’t sure where to go from here. Did she tell him the IRS browbeat her over the financials at the Oakwood Tavern? Or keep her mouth shut and let the government handle it? She pulled in a breath to speak, but Alan beat her to the punch.
“So you had visitors at the bar.” He was so cool and calm. Nothing fazed him. He sat on the couch, crossing his legs. For a flash of a second, Terese wondered why this successful, sweet man didn’t have women draped all over him. And oh, yeah, he was buried to his balls in tax trouble. That could turn a girl off.
She twisted a lock of hair. “Yeah, about that…” She trailed off, slumping into a chair opposite him.
“I know. I know. I can’t really explain much. Too many details I’m not supposed to divulge.” His gaze met hers straight on. “I wanted you to know I’m complying with everything they’ve asked—documents, account numbers, everything. You should too.” His calm voice contained a thread of steel, which resulted in workers scurrying to please him. Terese could never put her finger on what it was about the quiet man, but the thought of defying him jangled her nerves.
“I will. No worries. I just…” She swallowed hard and lowered her voice. “Am I in trouble here, Alan? Because I gotta know. I’m not…I can’t…” She hated the weakness in her voice, but she trusted him.
He leaned forward and took her hand. “Terese, I assure you. The investigation is about me. Not you. Apparently, Conrad and I haven’t been as diligent as we thought. Some of the smaller businesses are suffering from the setback and IRS allegations.” Conrad Bennett owned half the Entertainment Group with Alan. Terese hadn’t seen him in weeks.
“So the tavern?” she asked, afraid of his answer.
He sat back, releasing her hand. “The tavern’s not actually part of the entertainment conglomerate. I own her outright.”
“Oh.” She waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Which means,” he said, straightening, his hands clasped, his elbows on his knees. “I’ve no idea what’s going to happen to it.”
Terese swallowed hard, her fears coming true. At least Alan had the class to tell her in person. “So I’m out of a job, then.” She tried to keep her voice even, to hide the fear tearing her apart. She ground her thumbnail under her teeth.
He held up his finger. “Not necessarily. I’m doing everything I can to keep the place off the chopping block. You know how I feel about the tavern. It’s practically a family heirloom.” His lips twitched up. “My baby.”
A tickle of relief breezed over her. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
“For me—work with the IRS, stay out of jail, keep some of my assets, maybe hire a private detective to find Conrad.” He shrugged. “What do you need?”
Terese blinked. Even in the middle of the biggest financial disaster of his life, Alan Reid watched out for the little guy. She decided right then and there to be completely honest with him.
“Money.”
He snorted, sitting on the couch again. “Money I can’t help you with. In fact, I came to ask if you could go without salary for a month or two.”
Terese sagged. “Honestly, I live paycheck to paycheck.”
He frowned, brow furrowed. “And the Oakwood Tavern owes most of its success to your management.” He scrubbed his chin with his hand.
Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Alan. I can’t…” Crap, was she quitting here? She chewed her nail again. She couldn’t screw Alan that way, not when he needed her. But she couldn’t pay rent without getting her full check each week.
He studied her. “You’ve worked for me how long now?”
“Eight years.”
“What a horrible boss I am…to do this to you after eight, long, loyal years.”
“Alan…”
“No, Terese. You’ve been nothing but an asset to the bar since I hired you. I was lucky to get you, luckier to keep you,” he said. Pulling a deep breath, she met his gaze, ready to concede and work for free. Nothing but determination lurked behind his eyes, and she swallowed her words. “I’ve made the mess, and I will not drag you down into it.”
After a beat of silence, he continued, “I’ll run the tavern. And you’ll need another job.” Her jaw dropped in disbelief as his cool gaze rang alarm bells. Throw her out now? He wouldn’t dare.
“You’re kidding, right?” Anger boiled in her gut. “You’re firing me? After all we’ve been through?” She stood, ready to toss him in the street.
He chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m not firing you. Think of it as if I’m throwing you clear of the train wreck. Of course, you can stay at the tavern as long as you want.” His fatherly smile cooled her ire. “I’ll help you get another job anyway I can.”
She shook her head. “No, I’ll wait. I can stick it out.”
Alan stood and crossed to her, placing his hand on her arm. His quiet air of authority filled the room, and her shoulders dropped. He was right. He was always right.
“Who can I call for you?” he asked.
Humbly, she shrugged. “Know anyone at Drake?” she squeaked, embarrassed to ask.
“Drake? Oh, for the conference center. Sure, I know their HR guy. Let me give him a call. Excuse me.” Alan strode into her kitchen, pulling out his cell and clicking the screen. “Hey, George…”
Terese stood in the middle of her living room, her thoughts jumbled, her knees weak. She’d never felt so lost. Usually, she knew what she wanted, what she needed, and grabbed it. The situation seemed like freshman year all over again, out of money, out of housing, and not ready to crawl back to the trailer park with her tail between her knees.
Alan’s voice drifted in from the kitchen—a light, pithy tone. He schmoozed with the best of them. It sounded so positive. Terese’s hopes soared.
He strolled back into the living room, giving his phone a last cursory glance. “You’re all set. George will call you soon and set up the interview. Drop your resume by their HR department as soon as possible.” Sadness touched his smile.
The news hit her like a truck, a truck full of confetti and laughing gas. “Oh, my God, Alan. Really?” She bounced on her toes. “I can’t believe you got me an interview so easily.”
“George and I go way back,” he said. “He owes me quite a bit.” He met her gaze, his mouth straightening into a thin line. “I’m so sorry about this, Terese. I hope with all my heart my bad business doesn’t touch you.”
“I’m sorry.” The weight of it crashed down on her. “I’ll miss working with you, miss the bar.” A wave of emotion rolled over her at the realization she and Alan’s partnership was over. They would no longer be a team. Her lip trembled, tears threatened.
“I’ll miss you too.” His words gruff, he cleared his throat, perhaps swallowing some emotion as well. “We were good for each other, Terese. Thank you for that.”
Sniffing, she gave in to the moment, wrapping her arms around her boss in a big bear hug. Alan stiffened. She’d never hugged the man before, much less enveloped him in a full body hug. After a moment, he softened and pressed his head against hers.
But only for a second. Coughing and turning his head away, he backed out of the hug. “Well, then.” He paused awkwardly. “Let me know if there’s anything else.” He beelined for the door.
“Thank you, Alan,” she said, following him slowly, giving him space.
Stopping at the door, he glanced back at her. “And uh, let me know your plans, your last day and all…” He nodded rather curtly, opened the door, and vanished into the fall’s early twilight.
Terese flopped on the couch, almost tripping over her hiking boots. Thoughts of steamy sex scenes by waterfalls forgotten. She sat, thunderstruck, not believing how lucky she was to have Alan not only as a boss but a friend too. The reality hit her like a brick, an interview with Drake.
What to wear?
Ransacking her closet, she hunted for the right interview outfit. Not something for her date tomorrow. Not something to knock Drew’s socks off and compel him to follow her like a puppy as she dragged him around the bars—her current plan for their next date. Since he forced her to climb up a cliff, she’d make him tour the town.
She selected a deep purple suit with a plunging neckline that hugged her body like a glove. Sexy, luxurious, but not right for an interview. Chastised, she replaced it and withdrew another suit. God, they were outdated, leftovers from her post-college job search in the real world. She tossed the second suit on the bed.
Shopping money meant no cell phone or another late bill. But the interview required—needed—something modern and slightly sexy. Something that screamed, “I’m responsible. I’m confident. And I’m the only person for the job.” She chewed her lip, mentally scrutinizing her favorite shops and lamenting her empty bank account. Automatically, her mind shifted to the lingerie shop on Watson Street where she could pick up something for the post-date. Something to make Drew beg…
Cut it out.
She had no spare cash for new outfits or lingerie. And seriously, why was she dallying with some man, even if he was super sexy? Focus on the interview. She needed a new job, a good job, any job before the shit hit the fan at the tavern.
Shuffling through her closet again, she threw her hands up in frustration. Screw it. She grabbed her purse and marched out the door.
A new suit was an investment in her future. A new outfit from Maggie’s with something silk and lacey underneath could only boost her confidence. Then she could surprise Drew after the interview. If she was going to be a total horndog, she might as well be a classy one.