Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(58)
I mumbled another thanks as I took a sip of the ice-cold drink. Feeling resigned, I sighed and scanned the lot for Charlotte. After she and I had finished bringing in the liquor delivery, I’d changed into my swim trunks and taken over the handling of credit cards. Meanwhile, she’d changed into the bathing suit Shelly had brought for her: a black string bikini that was too small.
Per her promise, and to my infinite regret, she’d covered up her delectable body with the big white T-shirt right after giving me a glorious and torturous eyeful, not that I was complaining. I didn’t want any of the customers mistaking Charlotte for a dancer. I’d meant what I said. She wasn’t being paid to put on a show; it wasn’t in her job description. If anyone said or did anything to the contrary, like trying to talk her into washing their car or giving her a tip, I’d send her home straightaway.
When we left the hot confines of the club, she set about directing the queue of vehicles. Her baggy shirt left just her legs exposed from mid-thigh down. I hoped that’d be enough to discourage the customers.
The day wore on. Every so often, I’d glance up from processing payments to make sure all was well, but also because each time I lifted my gaze, her T-shirt was just a little bit wetter, and I’d find myself staring at her just a little bit longer until she sensed my stare. She’d smile her happy smile, one that made my stomach tense and my chest inexplicably hot, and then give me a friendly wave. Meanwhile, I’d endeavor to swallow around my heart as it climbed further up my throat.
Presently, she stood next to Jackson James—who she used to date not so long ago—and directed three new sheriff’s deputy cars as they rolled into the lot. Jackson and Charlotte smiled at each other, he laughed at something she said, and she hit him on the shoulder. I told myself to stop grinding my teeth.
“Have you been working out, boss?” Hannah asked, reminding me she was still hovering at my elbow.
I’d forgotten she was there.
“I’m always working out, Hannah. Every day.” If I wanted to drink beer and eat burgers, daily workouts were compulsory to stay in dancing-shape.
Female dancers could have curves and softness or be all lean lines and lankiness; they came in a variety of different shapes and sizes. Male dancers could not. The only things that varied between me and the other guys who did the hen parties were the color of our skin, how many inches we were over five-foot-ten-inches or under six-foot-three-inches, and the bulkiness of our build. No softness allowed.
“It’s just that you’re looking really great and I hoped you could give me some tips—”
“What do you really want?” I didn’t mind the compliments, but I knew when someone was greasing me up to ask for a favor. Hannah might as well have been holding two sticks of butter.
She chuckled, then sighed. “All right. Um, I heard a rumor that Charlotte is leaving.”
“That’s right. She turned in her notice.” I glanced back at the lemonade stand. Perhaps if I finished this serving of lemonade real quick, I could stroll over and ask for another. I took a big gulp from the red cup.
“Do you have someone in mind to replace her? if not, I’d like to apply.”
Great minds think alike. “Why didn’t you apply when Fred died?”
“He died on a Tuesday and Charlotte was hired the next Wednesday. You didn’t even post the job.” She crossed her arms. Then she waved at somebody.
I followed her line of sight. The recipient of her wave had been Jackson. He waved back. I grimaced.
“That’s fair,” I said, crossing my arms and not waving at Jackson. What did he want with Charlotte? He’d left her for that bombshell movie star earlier in the summer, Raquel Ezra, one of Sienna Diaz’s actress friends. Why the hell was he chatting up his ex now?
The morning heat had only yielded a hotter afternoon, and I’d felt a smidge guilty about standing in the shade while Charlotte corralled customers. That said, the guilt hadn’t outweighed my enjoyment of watching her dart from one car to the next, barking orders to the dancers and the guys sitting at their tables, and getting caught in the crosshairs of an errant stream of water. But I did not enjoy watching her talk to her ex-boyfriend.
When I didn’t return Jackson’s greeting, he dropped his hand and stopped waving.
I felt Hannah’s eyes on me, so I faced her.
“I thought,” she went on, “before you post the position, I should let you know I’m interested.”
“You’re hired.”
Her lips parted. “What?”
“It’s yours if you want it. But I have to warn you, Charlotte is updating the position description. It won’t be the same job she or Fred had—there will be more responsibilities.” As though pulled, I glanced at where Charlotte had been standing, relaxing when I spotted that she and Jackson were now separated.
“What kind of responsibilities?”
Returning my attention to Hannah, I used the next few minutes and the lull in processing car wash requests to describe the new position, including the tasks she’d be taking over from me, wanting her to be fully prepared for the range of responsibilities.
“But before you’re hired—assuming you still want the job—the position description will be finalized and documented, signed off by both of us. We can revisit and update it in six months if you feel like there’s some scope creep and you’re doing additional work. I don’t want you doing work you’re not being—”