“Can I help you?” he asked. The name tag on his uniform said DYLAN.
“I’m here to submit my résumé for the cashier/clerk position.”
“Hallelujah!” His face broke into a wide grin. “I’m Dylan, and the office is just over there.” He pointed to the door on his left. “I’d walk you over, but I just need to finish this.” He nodded at his phone.
Encouraged by his reaction, I smiled, then headed in the direction he had indicated.
I entered the office and saw a tall, slim-as-a-rose brunette standing behind the counter and cash register, her eyes narrowed into slits as she listened to a man I assumed was a customer. Her eyes shifted to me for a moment when the bell on the door jingled as it closed.
“Do you think I’m the one who puts these taxes on our customers’ bills? If I did, I’d add an asshole tax just before the idiot tax. Especially for some people,” she said in a no-nonsense tone, one perfect eyebrow arched.
She flipped her stylishly cut hair behind her shoulder.
“Not saying it’s you, but if you don’t pay for our service, you don’t get your car. Just try it,” she warned, her eyes gleaming with challenge when the customer reached for the keys on the counter. “Try driving that car out of this lot without paying your bill, plus taxes. I assure you, sir, you might get away from me but not from the cops.”
I bit my lip, wondering if I should turn around and leave, come back at a better time.
Her eyes flicked back to mine, and she gave me a quick wink.
I decided to wait and looked around the office. Facing the counter, there were two desks crowded with paperwork and paraphernalia. Shelves displaying car parts lined the walls, some behind glass. On the far end of the room was a glass door leading to the outside. The argument continued, but I noticed that the customer ended up paying his bill, plus taxes. Eventually he grabbed his keys and brushed past me on his way out.
And, in my opinion, barely kept his life.
“Bastard,” the brunette muttered under her breath. “Be gone, negative energy. Whew. Hello there, gorgeous. Here to pick up your car?”
She was absolutely unapologetic, her hazel eyes clear and direct as they focused on me. And I just had to grin. I liked her already.
I couldn’t help but admire the long, green Bohemian dress she was wearing. She had a small beauty mark on the side of her upper lip. She was of mixed race, possibly Asian and Caucasian. Behind her chic glasses, her hazel eyes slanted beautifully upward.
I shook my head. “Sorry, no. I’m here to hand in my résumé, if the cashier position is still open. I saw the ad online.”
Her brows knit in confusion. “What ad?”
She reached for my résumé, her eyes skimming it.
“I’m Veronica Strafford,” I said.
“Kara Hawthorne. Sweetie, I think you got the wrong shop—”
“Hey, Kar!”
We both turned at the voice. Dylan opened the office’s back door, poking his head inside. Sounds from the garage filtered through, loud but not deafening.
“Dad told me to post an ad on the internet for a part-time cashier to help you around here. You’re welcome.” His eyes shifted, and he grinned when he saw me. Then he winked.
“Will you stop winking? You look like you’re having an epileptic attack. And why did Dad ask you and not me?” She sounded insulted.
He rolled his eyes. “Chill, chill. This is exactly why Dad asked me. You’ve been a raging psycho lately, and you need help.” He winked at me again.
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. It seemed such normal banter between brother and sister.
“Go to hell.” Kara turned her attention to me. “Sorry about that moron. We don’t let him out of his cage much.”
I smiled.
“I heard that!” Dylan piped up as he disappeared behind the closed door.
Kara waved her hand dismissively. “Okay, let’s take a look again,” she said, scanning my résumé. “Can you give me three references?”