Page 66 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
The last thing my reputation needs is my childhood crush giving the press exclusives about me.
She goes through the whole thing, signs it, and retreats to her room a little after we’ve cleaned the kitchen. I pick up the contract, flipping the pages to make sure it’s signed properly.
My mouth stretches into a grin when I see the name she put down above her signature.
Hadley Fuck-You Queen.
A scoff leaves my lips.
Someone’s feisty.
Scar announces that he’s going surfing a few minutes later, and Drea, who’s sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop, addresses him for the first time today. “Hey, Cahill, if you see a shark, don’t forget to swim toward it.”
“Appreciate the tip.” Scar flips her off seconds before he walks out.
Glad to see these two are talking again.
I think back to Hadley’s ponytail swaying in every direction as she raced out of the kitchen. Her ass bouncing as she jogged up the stairs like she was in a hurry to get away from me.
This is supposed to be a break.
A vacation from the shitstorm my life has become.
But vacations aren’t supposed to feel like torture.
And that’s what living with Hadley Queen is going to be…
Fucking torture.
* * *
HADLEY
“How’d it go?” Jamie makes a beeline for me from the second I amble out of the office her boss led me into not even ten minutes ago.
The interview lasted seven minutes. Seven minutes. I barely had time to introduce myself before Fred, the restaurant owner’s son and Jamie’s manager, thanked me for my time and walked me out.
“It was… quick.” I give the crowded restaurant a quick scan. I knew Sandy’s was a hit around here, but I didn’t think it’d be this packed during rush hour.
What’s weirder, the restaurant is a decent size. Although it sure doesn’t look that way when you’re struggling to wedge yourself in between tables to reach the door.
She swats my shoulder. “You know that’s not what I meant. Did you get it or not?”
I don’t answer right away, keeping her in suspense, which she clearly doesn’t appreciate because she lets out an impatient “Come onnn” just seconds later.
I put her out of her misery. “I got the job.”
A big smile spreads over her face. “You did?”
“We’re officially coworkers.”
Jamie squeals, pulling me into a celebratory hug that draws a chuckle from my lips.
“You weren’t lying about the desperate part,” I say mid-hug, and she laughs.
Her boss was so fed up with working for two, he didn’t even look at my résumé or ask me if I had any waitressing experience before hiring me. Pretty sure he would’ve hired anyone who wanted the job. Not that I’m complaining.
She withdraws from the hug. “I knew you’d get it. When do you start?”