“Stop,” I say, my cheeks heating.
“Fine. With your résumé. Do you want my help?”
“I don’t know. It’s like head-butting a brick wall.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Because I don’t know how to make it shine.”
“Easy,” he says. “Sell your best assets.”
“I don’t know what those are.”
He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s trying hard not to smile. “Want my input?”
“No,” I say, refusing to look at him.
He sits up and clears his features of the amusement from before. “The key is to tell a potential employer why they should hire you. That’s what you have to focus on—the ‘why.’”
His phone beeps. He silences it and slides it next to the napkin holder without even looking at it. I want to ask him about it, but he just looks at me in a way that tells me not to. So I don’t. Instead, I change the subject.
“How are you liking Dogwood Lane?” I ask. I don’t mean it as some deep, thought-provoking question, but he seems to take it as one.
He considers my question. I expected an easy answer—that he can’t wait to leave or that it’s just what he thought it was going to be. Instead of spitting out something like that, he rests his elbows on the table and looks at me.
His gaze is warm on my face. It lights a flame inside my chest, the warmth radiating through my veins. He looks at me like he’s interested in what I have to say, like my questions are worthy of consideration. It feels . . . nice. Very nice.
“I don’t mind it, actually,” he says. “It’s amazing how much work I can get done when it’s quiet, and it’s so quiet at the house and the inn. Especially when Penn isn’t around.”
“He’s loud,” I say.
“Loud,” he mouths, his eyes growing wide. He leans forward again. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure.”
“It’s also kind of fun to be out there. Usually I’m cooped up in an office with reports and statements—which I love—but it’s nice to get some fresh air and dig around in the dirt.”
“See?” I say, pointing at him. “That’s what I want. I want to do something I can’t wait to do every day. Something that brings me real joy and makes others happy.”
“You want a unicorn job.”
“Yes. And I think there’s one out there for me.”
“Me too.”
We sit back as Alexis puts drinks in front of us. She glares at me when Trevor doesn’t give her the time of day. I smile back.
“I just need to figure out this stupid résumé,” I say, pulling the book back to me. “It can’t be as hard as I’m making it out to be.”
I flip through the pages, skimming over examples of what you should include in your cover letter and pointers on interviews. The information makes my head spin.
“For the love of God,” Trevor mutters.
He’s staring at his phone. His jaw is locked as he swipes over the screen with his thumb.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Liz.”
“Okay. Who’s Liz?”
“An ex . . . not girlfriend, really. An ex-acquaintance is more like it.”
I bite my tongue to keep from responding. Of course he has an ex-acquaintance. Probably a lot of them. Maybe even some current ones that he’s not bringing up. And none of them are my business. So why I feel a little prickly about this right now is beyond me.
“She’s called me six times since I’ve been sitting here,” he says. “I feel like an asshole not answering her, but every time I do, she takes it as a sign I’m interested. I’m not.”
I fold my hands on the book and take a deep breath. “Maybe she’ll get the picture.”
“She’s texted me forty-one times in the last twenty-four hours.” He lifts a brow. “Does it seem like she’s getting the picture to you?”
“That’s a lot,” I admit.
“No shit.”
“Did you date her long?”
“I saw her over three, maybe four, months. It wasn’t serious. Not to me, anyway.” He tosses his phone on the table. “Got any insight?”
I laugh. “On what? Liz?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. I just don’t want to be with her. How do I handle that without telling her to just fuck off?”
“Telling her to fuck off wouldn’t be very nice,” I point out. I think for a minute. “Okay, question: When was the last time you actually talked to her?”
“I don’t know.” He grabs his phone and scrolls. “Three days ago. Via text.”
“That’s your problem,” I tell him.
“I shouldn’t have texted her back. I knew it.”
“No, you should’ve. You should text her right now, actually.”
He looks at me like I’m nuts. “You’re not understanding what I’m saying, Haley.”
“No, you’re not understanding what I’m saying, Trevor. You’re just making it worse when you ignore her. In your mind, you’re putting up a boundary. In her mind, you’re playing hard to get.” I release a breath. “People want what they can’t have. The longer you go and then text her back here and there is a little crumb tossed her way, keeping her strung along. Trust me. Guys used to do it to me all the time, and I was as ready to eat it up as Liz.”