Michael frowned at the page. “I don’t see that listed here.”
“Oh, I didn’t actually go there. I just got in.” I hesitated, then decided I might as well explain myself. “Out of state tuition was too much for me to afford.”
He grimaced and crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. “No kidding. My parents never could have sent me there on their salaries. Thankfully I got in on a football scholarship.”
Football. Nice. He had that physique for sure. He looked like he could knock somebody down without flinching. Or throw a girl around in the bedroom.
Stop thinking about that, I told myself.This is a job interview.I had definitely been doing OnlyFans for too long if sex was on my mind this much.
“I already explained the position and requirements,” Allison told him. “I was just about to go over her experience.”
“I went to community college in Albuquerque,” I said, eager to talk about my qualifications. “I took every single class they had on finance, statistics, and economics.”
“Did you get an Associate’s?” Michael asked in that smooth, deep voice. “I don’t see a degree listed.”
“I didn’t get my degree,” I admitted. “I knew what I wanted to focus on. I couldn’t afford to waste the money on classes that weren’t relevant to my future career.”
I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Was I mentioning my finances too much? I didn’t want to seem like I was playing up the poor-girl angle too much. Michael and Allison’s faces were unreadable.
“I respect that,” he finally said, but it sounded forced. Like my lack of degree was a mark against me. His deep blue eyes drifted down to the resume again. “You’ve volunteered for the past two years at the Safe Haven Women’s Shelter?”
“Yes!” I said, seizing on the change of topic. “I started off doing basic work around the shelter, but last year I began helping them with their finances. It was a great opportunity to put my relevant education to use.”
“Safe Haven is one of our grant recipients,” Michael said. “It’s a great organization that does amazing work. Holly is so passionate.”
“I worked directly with Holly!” I pointed to the printed papers in the manila envelope. “She’s actually one of the people who wrote me a recommendation.”
Michael picked up the folder and read the recommendation, nodding as he did so. He flipped to the next page, and then the one after that. “You have several recommendations, not just from Holly. That definitely makes up for the lack of degree.”
“Honestly, a degree is only a formality,” Allison told me. “You have all the relevant experience, which matters more to me.”
“This grants administrator position is fairly routine,” Michael said while perusing my documents. His eyes flicked up to me for a brief instant. “You might get bored after doing the same thing every week. How do you feel about that?”
“Bored?” I laughed. “Let me tell you aboutbored. My last job was working at Subway. Squirting the same amount of mayo on two hundred sandwiches every day is true boredom. Compared to that, this job is Disneyland.” I cleared my throat. “And of course, knowing I’m working for an organization that’s doing good for the world helps.”
“Are you a people person?” Michael asked. “I do most of the schmoozing with our moreneedydonors, but you will need to interact with them as part of your job, too.”
“I definitely consider myself a people person.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Even if you’re dealing with a donor who is calling you five times a day with nit-picky requests?”
I’m used to handling annoying customers. I suppressed a smile and replied, “I have a lot of experience with exactly that kind of work.”
“At Subway?” Michael clarified.
“Yes. At Subway. And the two other retail jobs I’ve had since graduating high school.” I smiled broadly. “I can handledifficultpeople without an issue, I promise you.”
He nodded and closed the manila folder, then gestured with it. “I wish I had you with me at brunch this morning. If you end up working here, you’ll learnallabout one particular donor.”
Michael was gesturing with the folder, but the way he extended it toward me made me think he was handing it back. So without thinking, I reached out and took hold of it, andpulled. He grunted as the edge of the folder slid across his palm.
“Sorry, I thought—oh no,” I said. “You’re bleeding!”
“It’s only a papercu—oh wow,” he said as he looked down at his hand. A line of red had formed and was beginning to trickle down his fingers. Panic flared up in me like lava from a volcano.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
“What’s that folder made of, razor blades?” he hissed while cradling his palm in his other hand. Blood was now dripping onto the conference room table.