The Boss Project

“Uh-huh. So are you giving my girl the job or what? She’s had a rough year with her breakup and that dumb video and all.”

“Dumb video?”

“Do you listen to anything I say? I told you about it. It was probably six months ago now. The week after my gallbladder surgery, to be exact. That’s why I couldn’t come up for the wedding.”

Now that she said it, I did remember she was supposed to come up for a wedding, but she’d had a gallbladder attack, and instead I’d gone down there for her surgery. “I remember the wedding… So they broke up? Evie called it off?”

“Not quite. The night before the big day, Everly found out her fiancé was shtupping her maid of honor. Rather than break it off, she married him, and then at the reception she showed a video of the two of them doing the horizontal mambo before walking out. Somehow the whole world saw the video because of the damn Internet. She annulled the marriage the week after.”

Holy shit. I vaguely remembered my grandmother telling me that story, and I even remembered seeing a partial clip of the video on the news. But I hadn’t put two and two together. “I didn’t connect the dots to realize it was the woman I interviewed.”

“Yep. Though I hope you don’t hold that against her. It took a lot of guts to do what she did.”

“Of course not,” I told her.

My grandmother and I talked for another ten minutes. After we hung up, I grabbed my laptop and typed into the Google search bar: Everly Vaughn wedding disaster.

I hadn’t paid close attention to the video when it was popping up all over the place earlier this year, but the very first video that showed up when I hit enter was definitely Evie. And the damn thing had a shit ton of plays. The still was her face as she spoke into a microphone wearing a wedding dress. I hit play and watched the entire thing once through with my mouth hanging open. I couldn’t believe this was the same woman I’d halfheartedly interviewed, the same woman from the fitting room. When the video ended, I hit the button to play it a second time. But when the bride came on the screen, I hit pause and took a good look at her.

Evie—Doctor Everly Vaughn—looked gorgeous in a fitted, strapless, white-lace gown. Her hair was styled the way women wore it back in the forties, with soft blond waves framing her pretty face. The sexy librarian glasses she’d worn both times I’d met her were gone, making her big, blue eyes look even bigger. Damn… She really was a knockout.

I rattled the ice in my almost-empty glass with my eyes glued to the screen. The first time I’d watched the video, I’d concentrated on the groom—trying to see if he’d had any clue what was about to go down. He definitely hadn’t, and it made watching the asshole get what was coming to him that much more enjoyable. But this time I focused on the bride. And as beautiful as she looked, I could now see the hurt in her eyes. It reminded me of this afternoon, when I’d been truthful about why she’d been invited to a second interview—except the hurt was magnified times a thousand.

I pressed play and watched as Evie took the microphone and asked for everyone’s attention. Zooming in, I noticed her hands shaking. A few months ago, when it hit the news, I’d chalked the video up to a crazy bride. But now, I saw things differently. Sucking back the last of the amber liquid in my glass, I gave her credit for standing up for herself. My grandmother was right. It took balls to do what she did, putting her emotions on display in front of a room full of people and calling out two people she loved. When the video got to the part where her fiancé and best friend started to go at it, I shut my laptop and stared out the window at Manhattan.

Evie Vaughn. The woman went through with marrying a guy just to blow up the wedding at the reception. It didn’t seem like she had a grip on managing her own stress too well. Not to mention, she also seemed like a real handful—bold, smart, the type of woman who called people out when she saw fit, whether that was her own wedding or in an interview with a prospective employer. She was sexy as shit, especially when she showed no fear. Yep, Dr. Vaughn was exactly the type of employee I didn’t need, even in a position I didn’t want. My company was filled with enough strong-willed people.

And yet I couldn’t seem to get her out of my head the last few days.

Which was dumb.

Just dumb.

I knew what I needed to do to nip this shit in the bud. So I called up the email HR had sent after they interviewed the final candidates and reread it before answering.

Mr. Crawford,

I met with the two candidates you selected to come in for a second interview. Both interviewed well, were able to share different stress-management techniques they might employ, and had clearly done their homework on the industry. However, Dr. Wexler has more one-on-one anxiety and stress counseling experience than Dr. Vaughn. Therefore, it is my recommendation that we extend an offer to Dr. Wexler.

Please let me know if you would like to discuss things further, or alternately, if you would prefer that we reopen the search to locate new potential candidates.

Sincerely,

Joan Davis

I sat for another twenty minutes, staring blankly at the screen. The list of reasons not to hire Evie Vaughn was endless. Even human resources recommended another candidate. Yet…

I was a man who often went with instinct over logic. It had mostly served me well. And for some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that rejecting Evie Vaughn would be a mistake—and not just because my grandmother wouldn’t be happy. Though I couldn’t honestly say my leaning toward the less-qualified candidate was for entirely professional reasons. Something about the woman had gotten under my skin. Which is precisely the reason I should heed the advice of my HR director. Yet instead of writing back to HR, I clicked back to YouTube and hit play again. Twice.

Eventually, I shook my head. This is just stupid. Why the hell was I wasting time ruminating over who got hired for a position I didn’t even want in my company?

So I hit reply and started typing.

Joan,

Please extend an offer to Dr…