Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,8
raced with what was going on. Was this a joke? Had they figured out who I was, and now my father was humoring me by letting me interview, but wasting my time with an assistant?
“Unfortunately, Mr. Rush had to run out, and we had hoped HR would take over. However, no one was available on such short notice,” he explained, all irritation mostly gone.
“I understand.”
“I assure you I know the position you’re applying for and know each role as well as Mr. Rush himself.”
“Of course.”
It still pricked at my irritation that a company would be so aloof with their hires that they couldn’t find someone to properly vet their employees, but I let it go. It wasn’t like I was searching for my future career, just something to put at least an ounce of my degree to use.
Taking a deep breath, I sat up straight and smiled.
I wanted this job.
More to prove I could have one than any other reason, but I still wanted it.
“I see you graduated Magna Cum Laude at The Wharton School of Business.” His brows rose high above the edge of his black glasses. “Wow. That’s impressive.”
“Thank you. I definitely enjoyed learning at Wharton. It offered me a plethora of experiences.”
He looked up from the papers and tipped his head to the side. “Did you plan on continuing your MBA elsewhere?”
Why bother? The degree I have now would be useless in a year.
Covering my almost snort at his question with a soft laugh, I answered, “No. Not that I don’t want to. It’s just that now isn’t the time.”
“I see.” He nodded and closed the folder holding my resume. “What makes you interested in the assistant project manager position? Your experience in college is impressive enough for a higher position. Unfortunately, we’re not hiring for that now. So, what is it about Rush?”
It was small enough to not be on my father’s radar and seemed to have minimal connections that my father could use to shut me out, which would prevent me from delivering the big fuck you to him and Camden.
“Rush Shipping is growing, and I want to grow with them.”
He smiled and flipped open the folder again, making notes off to the side. But that small smile was all I needed to know. This job was mine.
The rest of the interview flew by, and by the end, I was determined to recruit Ryan into becoming my friend, no matter what I had to do. He had a sarcastic whit that reminded me of Raelynn.
“Well, Verana, I’ll need to pass all this information along to my superiors, but you should be hearing from us soon.”
Beaming, I stood and shook his offered hand, feeling lighter since I arrived home from college. Ryan walked me to the elevator and offered another smile. It took all I had not to break out into a full victory dance as soon as the door closed. Instead, I managed to keep it to a small bounce from one foot to the other, getting it together by the time the doors opened.
I couldn’t wait to call the girls and let them know how the interview went. Before I could reach the front doors, I stopped and opened my bag to dig my phone out, but it wasn’t in the pocket I usually kept it in. I flipped through each section, wondering if I’d misplaced it. Being so nervous before my interview would be the only explanation for it not being exactly where it always was, considering everything always had a place, and I didn’t deviate from it.
I’d just unzipped the middle section when a wall clipped my shoulder and sent my bag flying off my arm onto the floor, all my belongings scattering out like water from a tipped-over glass.
“Shit,” a deep voice said at the same time I did.
I jerked my head up, ready to lay into this asshole when my eyes locked with the most beautiful hazel eyes I’d ever seen. The light streamed in through the lobby and hit them just right to illuminate all the shades of brown and green mixing together.
“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
My gaze dropped from his eyes, down the strong bridge of his nose to settle on his full lips.
“Jesus,” I said on an exhale. Dark stubble coated his jaw, and I clenched my hands to keep from reaching out and thumbing his plush bottom lip. I may have almost moaned when his tongue slicked out across the bottom before they began