Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(19)

Grateful for the reprieve from his attention—but also flustered. What the hell, Charlotte? Hank Weller is as sour as you. And he can’t stand you! You don’t need more bitterness, you’re tart enough already—I again inspected my outfit. “What’s so wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Folks will think it’s part of an act, naughty librarian or secretary,” he said matter-of-factly, looking and sounding grumpy about it. “Something like that.”

“You want me to wear baggy clothes?” I had a bunch of loose blouses and long skirts for school. They were comfortable and the length of the skirt allowed me to wipe off sticky or paint-covered kindergartener hands when there were no paper towels within reach. Plus, the floral print hid stains.

“It would be better if you dressed like me, T-shirts and jeans. All the kitchen staff, the bouncers, all non-talent positions dress like this. It separates us from the show.”

I nodded, considering. “Could I wear jean shorts? Yoga pants?”

“That’s fine.” He shrugged, pushing away from the wall and backing out of the office. “I suppose I don’t care what you wear on your bottom half, as long as you’re wearing a loose T-shirt on your top half.”

“Okay. Good to know.”

Hank frowned. Maybe he’d just remembered that I was odious.

He moved like he was going to leave, and so I stood abruptly. “Wait a minute. Could I—um—is it okay if I introduce myself to everyone?”

“Sure,” he said, bored of my questions and existence, his attention now pointed down the hallway.

Praise Jesus! Hank obviously didn’t know it, but he was doing me a big favor. Therefore, since I felt kindly toward him at the moment, I offered, “And is it okay if I set you up with FastFinance?”

He looked at me then, his expression less bored, more contemplative. “How about a trial? Do they have free trials?”

“They do. I think it lasts a month.”

“Do that. If I like it, we’ll keep it.”

“Okay, but you’re definitely going to like it.” I sat back down and grinned to myself. I was about to rock his world. With automation.

Hank made a scoffing sound. “You think you know what I’ll like?”

I smirked a knowing smirk up at him even though his question sounded supremely unfriendly. “I think you’re a business owner, and business owners can’t resist a succinct profit and loss statement and reduced overhead costs. That sort of stuff gets y’all hot.”

Some of his hostility burned off and the smirk he shot me in return felt challenging rather than mean. “You’re right. It does get me hot. If this program works as well as you say, I’ll pay you full-time even if you cut your hours back. How about that, angel?”

Ignoring how he’d made angel sound like a dirty word, I wagged a finger like he was a naughty boy, because clearly I must’ve been out of my mind. “Ah, see—that sort of talk gets me hot.”

Hank’s smirk grew into another of his heart-stopping, sinfully seductive grins, his stare intensifying its focus. He leaned into the room, parted his lips, and then—

He promptly snapped his mouth shut and blinked.

“I—” Hank’s frown turned severe and he blinked several more times, looking confounded. He then gave his head a firm shake. “I have to go.”

Before I could say another word, he darted away, back toward the club’s main room, and left me staring at the spot he’d vacated, wondering what the heck was wrong with me. Had I . . .?

Noooooo.

Maybe.

Yes.

Oh no.

I’d flirted with Hank Weller. And he was technically now my boss.

I never flirted with anyone anymore. Those days of impracticality, letting my feelings be swept up in the lie of a flirtation, were far behind me. The only interactions that got me hot and bothered these days were the fictional, period drama ones I watched on TV after the kids went to bed. Rolling my eyes at myself, I chalked this odd behavior up to nerves and made myself a promise to never flirt with his surly butt again, which shouldn’t be difficult.

After all, I would only be here for one week. Two tops.





CHAPTER 6





CHARLOTTE





“In youth, it was a way I had,

To do my best to please.

And change, with every passing lad

To suit his theories.



But now I know the things I know

And do the things I do,

And if you do not like me so,

To hell, my love, with you.”

DOROTHY PARKER, THE COMPLETE POEMS OF DOROTHY PARKER





“How are things going at the club?” Sienna nudged my shoulder with hers. Her tone was friendly, but also tinged with forced nonchalance, making me suspect my friend was worried about me but didn’t want me to know how worried.

“Oh, fine.” I sent her an unconcerned smile, not exactly lying, but not being precisely truthful either.

Today was the Tuesday after my full weekend working at The Pink Pony and one of my self-determined days off. Sienna and I stood next to each other behind the swing sets in her big backyard. Jethro had custom-built an impressive playground for his three boys, complete with a pirate ship, lookout, a swinging bridge, several slides leading down from the ship, a whole playhouse inside the ship, and several more swings jutting from either side.