Not that she had any skills, so to speak, but she was intelligent. She could learn on the job. And Boston Macnamara was almost like a friend and understood how difficult her father could be since he worked for him.
Boston could get her hired at Samson Plastics, the factory that fueled Cuttersville's economy and just happened to be owned by her father. It would burn ol' Daddy Delmar's butt if she got hired on at Samson.
Mentally shifting through her wardrobe to see if she'd brought any cute little suits with short skirts, Amanda pictured having her own little office, a phone with a cordless headset, and a personal secretary to fetch her coffee. Sounded like the perfect job for her.
"What do you mean you can't hire me?" Amanda lay on the ugly chintz couch in Shelby and Boston's living room and rubbed her forehead. Her head hurt. Her feet hurt. And she was hungry. Baby was lying in a ball on her stomach, looking as forlorn as she felt.
Boston put his hands into the pockets of his immaculate black pants. He looked nearly as out of place in Cuttersville as she did. But somehow, he had fallen in love with a local girl and was staying permanently. In this fussy Victorian house that was the showpiece on the Haunted Cuttersville Tour.
Amanda wished one of those alleged ghosts would reach out and slap him right now.
"I'm not in HR, Amanda. I don't do the hiring."
"So? You're the freaking VP. Can't you tell HR to hire me?" She instantly detested the desperate tint to her voice. She knew she wasn't pathetic enough to beg, she just knew it, but she'd never been in this position before. She felt… unsure of herself, and she didn't like it.
Shelby, Boston's new wife, came into the room with a glass of lemonade. "She's our friend, Boston. Surely there's something you can do for her." She held the glass out to Amanda. "You look peaked. Have a drink."
Great. She was penniless and she looked peaked. "Listen to your wife, Boston, she's a wise woman." Amanda didn't bother to sit up but sipped the lemonade sideways and then set the glass on the floor. Baby gave a yip, so Amanda put her down on the floor and watched her rest her button size front paws on the top of the glass and stick her nose down into the lemonade. She gave a tentative lick then jerked back in surprise at the tartness. It was cute enough to almost make Amanda feel better. Almost.
"I would hire you, Amanda, but I really can't. It's like this. Say I work at McDonald's."
Amanda wasn't sure whose snort was louder, hers or Shelby's. They exchanged amused glances.
Shelby was not exactly the match Amanda would have chosen for Boston. His brand-new wife had never left Cuttersville, had enough hair on her head for six people, and thought dressing up was wearing something knit. But Shelby was an honest, down-to-earth woman, and one of the most truly decent people Amanda had ever met—not that that was saying much. Good people were harder to come by than a funny sitcom.
But the relationship between Boston and Shelby seemed to work. Well. They seemed to balance each other out and had a love so strong it was palpable in the room whenever they were together. Generally speaking, it made Amanda equal parts jealous and nauseous.
"Okay, you work at McDonald's," Amanda said. "I'll suspend all reality for a minute and accept that you would ever do that."
Boston held out his hand and pointed to the right. "And I work the drive-thru window."
Shelby grinned. "Do you wear one of those hats? You know, with the visors?"
He just stared at her until she wiped the smile off her face. Or hid it behind her hand, really. "Sorry, go ahead."
"Thank you. So I work the drive thru, and that's all I do." He pointed to the left. "Then there are cashiers and burger flippers and a fry girl. So say a friend of mine comes to the counter. I can't leave the drive-thru to go flip her a special request burger just because she's my friend. We all have a certain job to do, and mine is the drive-thru."
Amanda was temporarily amused out of her panic. Crossing her legs and smoothing her Ralph Lauren tennis skirt, she raised her eyebrows. "What the hell are you talking about? Am I supposed to be a fry girl or a cashier or what? You've completely lost me."
"I'm saying I can't hire you. That's not my job."
She was saved from voicing something she would probably regret by the front door being thrown open.
"Shel, honey? Shelby?"
Amanda knew that voice. It belonged to the big, brawny farmer, Danny Tucker, who looked like he could take a woman for a really wild ride on his tractor. She had tossed some light flirtation his way, only to have him smile politely and not take the hint. It had stung a bit to have him reject her, but she wouldn't admit that for all the Harry Winston diamonds on Oscar night.
"Shelby, I thought you were going to talk to him about that." Boston's voice was low, urgent. "He is your ex-husband. E-X. That means he shouldn't be just walking into our house without knocking, and he shouldn't be calling you 'honey.' "
The jealousy from Boston was kind of cute. Definitely amusing. Amanda looked to Shelby for her reaction.
"Ex is right, so stop making a mountain out of a molehill." She rolled her eyes at her husband and called, "We're in the parlor, Danny!"
When Boston would have protested further, she slid her hand across his chest. "Who am I in bed with every night, hmm? Who am I so in love with I want to be naked all the time?"
Hands began to roam and a really loud, wet kiss commenced.
"Third party here," Amanda called, hoping to stave off a make-out session. She was already hungry and flat busted broke. She didn't need to be reminded that it had been many, many long and lonely months since she'd had an orgasm. With a man present, anyway. "You're corrupting my innocent dog."
"Your dog just knocked a glass of lemonade over onto my floor," Boston said, jerking his mouth off Shelby's and looking around wildly, like a towel might materialize out of nowhere. "Shel, use your T-shirt to clean it up. The wood will be ruined."
"My T-shirt? Use your shirt!" But Shelby headed toward the kitchen.
Amanda forced herself to sit up. There was a mess of spreading liquid puddling on the wood floor with her dog plopped butt-down in the middle of it. "Baby! Sorry, Boston, I didn't even know she was strong enough to knock that over. But you know, it was probably the shock of seeing you two groping each other. I'm single, and Baby isn't used to depravity. Except when I have on Bravo. It probably scared her and she jumped."
Pushing her poodle out of the wet spot, Amanda winced. "Look at your fur… you have to realize we're poor now, Baby. I can't pay the groomer to shampoo you."