He should stop talking. He didn’t know her, didn’t recognize her number, and she could be anyone. Hell, she could be one of the vamps or wolves for all he knew. But her question came across the line so easy, as if she did care, and damn, he wanted to believe that someone, some perfect stranger, could ease the tightness in his chest. God knew, he couldn’t talk to his crew about this or how bad it was getting.
Harper was going to have to put him down someday.
That thought drew him up short. It felt so true, so final. Someday, he would be driven mad by the sight, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
“What were your dreams like?” he asked, because he sure as shit didn’t want to detail the one he’d just had to the nice-sounding woman on the other end of the line. Her voice was frail, and she was likely submissive. She wouldn’t be able to shoulder a vision. Pity because, right now, he really wanted to unload on her.
“I used to have dreams about animals chasing me through the woods. You know the ones where you’re running and running, and you never get tired, but neither does the thing that’s chasing you? And then, right when the animal was on me, right when it was about to bite, I would wake up.”
“What kind of animals?” he asked.
“Bears. Always bears.”
Weston frowned at the wall. Yeah, she definitely wouldn’t be able to handle his dream. Bears weren’t even a blip on his radar of scary animals. There were three bear shifters in his crew, and his dad was a bear shifter. Hell, most of the crew he’d grown up with had massive bruins inside of them.
Silence stretched on as he laid back on his bed and rubbed his eyes. At least talking to this woman had settled his heartrate some.
“So,” she drawled hesitantly. “I called for a reason.”
He stared up at the exposed beams in his cabin ceiling and sighed. Right, she hadn’t just dialed a wrong number to talk to a stranger at the ass-crack of dawn. “Okay.”
“I heard you have an opening for a scheduling manager for your ATV business. I was wondering if I could fill out an application for it.”
“Scheduling manager for… Where did you hear that? I haven’t posted for the job.”
“A Bloodrunner told me. Uuum, Alana.” Her voice went all weak and shaky on her answer. Strike one against her. A scheduling manager not only had to be good with people on the phone, but also face-to-face. Plus, she was going to have to deal with his partner, Ryder, and he was a relentless pervy joker whose brain stem was connected directly to his dick. He would have her crying in no time. Add to that Weston just had a somewhat personal conversation with her, and he in no way wanted to meet her in person. Ever.
“Sorry, but I’m not hiring at this time.” The line went so quiet, he thought she hung up. He checked the screen of his phone, but the call hadn’t disconnected. “You still there?”
“Yeah, it’s just, I really need this job.” At least she had a little steel in her voice now, so maybe she wasn’t a complete pushover. “I’ve been looking and looking, but it’s tourist season, and all the jobs get filled right before I apply. All I’m asking for is a chance. Just…let me come in for an interview, and if you feel like I’m not the right fit for your company, I won’t beg or make it weird. I’m good at interviews. I just can’t get in for one. I know I can do this job.” She swallowed audibly over the line and whispered, “Please.”
Weston let off an irritated sigh. He’d really imagined a roughneck man to be handling scheduling, so he could help keep the ATVs running and assist with building and clearing trails, too. This woman sounded like a splinter would end her life. She was begging, though, and he didn’t want to feel like a total dick. “Fine. Can you come in tomorrow?”
“I can come in today and start immediately,” she said in a rush.
Weston wasn’t really in the mood to conduct an interview today. More like he wanted to drink a fifth of whiskey and work on his property alone, but fuck it. He had to hire someone soon, and getting the first interview done and out of the way might distract him from the stupid visions.
“I’ll text you the address. Be there at noon.”
“Oh, thank you! Oh my gosh, thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to me. Everything has been so shitty lately. Oh, no. I said shitty. I mean…I’m really grateful for the opportunity. I’m going to go. My mouth won’t shut up. See you at noon. Okay, bye. Don’t forget to text me the address. Sorry. You know what you’re doing. Okay then. Toodles. Toodaloo. I mean bye.”
More static blasted across the line, and then her muffled voice came across. “Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Eeeee!”
Weston winced away from the celebratory squeal.
“Fuck you, Benjamin! Take that, and that!”
Weston could just imagine her flipping the bird to an imaginary Benjamin.
“Oh, no.” More static, and then in a much clearer voice, she said, “I thought I hung up. Please tell me you aren’t still there.”
Weston snorted. “I’m still here.”
The woman cleared her throat delicately and murmured, “Good day to you, sir.” And then she hung up.
Baffled, Weston canted his head and stared at the phone as a smile stretched his lips. Huh. He texted her the address and dropped his phone to the bed. Crossing his arms over his chest, he chuckled up at the ceiling.
What an odd bird.