Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(48)
Hank’s eyes opened while I spoke and met mine, a subtle curve tugging his lips. “I don’t want to be spending any hours doing that,” he said, his voice sounding oddly gentle and amused. “I already have too much to do, too many irons in the fire, which is why I hired you.”
His mellow attitude, as well as the warm softness in his handsome gaze, threw me for a loop, and my heart flip-flopped. This man was giving me whiplash with his mercurial mood swings.
I found I needed to swallow before I could speak. “Okay. Fair enough.” I held my hands up. “I thought you might say that, so I have a suggestion, assuming you’re willing to hear me out.”
He stared at me, the small curve to his mouth eventually becoming a small smile. “Go ahead. What’s your suggestion?”
“What if you offered Hannah the job?”
Hank’s attention drifted out the window behind me and he rubbed his chin. “Hannah.” He said her name like he was trying it on.
“She’s graduating with her bachelor’s degree in business administration soon and she’s obviously told you she’s ready to move on, do something else. But it’s also clear she’s worried about her work history and ability to get a job in an office, given what happened at the last place.”
“That’s . . . true.”
I could see his mind debating these facts.
“She knows as much as you do about how to audition dancers, when to schedule each dancer, which bouncers prefer which shifts, what events to book, how to settle ruffled feathers.”
His eyes found mine again and he frowned. It was thoughtful, not upset. “You’ve been paying attention.”
I took this as a good sign and continued. “Hire her as a business manager. She’s more than capable of taking on most of the staffing and booking responsibilities—the auditioning, hiring, firing, talent search, job postings, scheduling, and whatnot that takes up so much of your time.”
“That would free up a lot of my time.”
“With me gone, you have the money for her salary, so it’s not going to impact your overhead costs either. She can take over the tasks you’re tired of managing while also doing what was once my job, like ordering supplies and checking timesheets since the bookkeeping is now all automated. Put it all together and it’s a great full-time position for Hannah.”
Hank’s head bobbed faintly. “Okay,” he said, his tone still disarmingly mild. “And you’ll stay? You’ll stick around for two weeks to train her on FastFinance and how to run the reports? Reconciliation and payroll?”
“I will.” I crossed my arms when my heart flip-flopped again. “And if she has questions after those two weeks, you both know how to reach me. I’ll make myself available.”
“You must feel pretty guilty about lying.” His statement sounded teasing.
“No . . .” I scratched my neck, took a deep breath, tugged on the hem of my shorts, and tried not to squirm in place while he watched. But then I finally admitted, “And yes. Yes, I do feel guilty, but guilt is not why I’m giving two weeks or offering to be a resource moving forward.”
“Oh yeah?” His gaze seemed to sharpen and he took two steps further into the room, two steps closer to me. “Then why? What do you get out of it? Why would you want to help me when I’ve been nothing but intolerable toward you?”
Seeing you for two more weeks would be nice.
I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t even admit the thought to myself. I didn’t understand my reaction to this man, nor did I wish to. It was what it was, and I didn’t have the energy or time to figure it out.
Thus, I settled on, “It’s called being a decent person.”
He snorted. “You mean being able to live with yourself, which is the same thing as avoidance of guilt. Let me do you a favor and assuage that guilt right now. Lying in order to find your cousin because you’re worried about her and want to help her and there’s no other way to track her down isn’t something to feel guilty about, Charlotte.”
I gave him a jerky nod, but—dammit. He was being so great about all this. Why did he have to be so great when I was about to leave?
“What you did and why you did it were completely justified.” Hank’s eyes moved over me, a quick down-up sweep. “You shouldn’t feel any guilt.”
I sent him a glare of mock annoyance. “Don’t tell me what to feel.”
He cracked a smile, drawling, “I’m not telling you what to feel, angel. I’m telling you what not to feel.”
Determined to ignore how confoundedly endearing he’d made that sound, I waved my hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “Anyway. I will stay for two weeks, and then I’ll be available to Hannah for questions.”
“Thank you,” he said, watching me closely. “That’s awfully decent of you.”
“You’re welcome.” I strolled to the desk and pulled out my chair. Sitting, I opened the laptop, and some odd, self-destructive impulse compelled me to mutter, “There you go. Looks like your prayers have been answered.”
This statement was met with silence, so I glanced at him. His eyebrows were pulled together and his stare was fastened to my face, like I’d said something odd.
“I’m leaving,” I spelled out, trying to infuse my words with teasing levity like he had. “You didn’t want me here to begin with. What I meant was, it looks like you got your wish.”