Page 16 of The Path to Loving Him
“Really?” I ask as Bower pumps her arms up and down, cheering silently.
“Yes, really. I’m going to have HR send over the paperwork along with the offer. Please take your time to think about?—”
“I’ll take it,” I nearly shout.
David chuckles. “Are you sure? You don’t want to think about it?”
“Nope,” I say. “I’ll take it.”
“Well . . . that’s great to hear. We’re excited to have you on staff, especially as our new assistant baseball coach. We have a great program, but I think we need a bit of a feminine touch to take us to the next level.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ganbear, this means a lot. Thanks for taking a chance on me.”
“Of course. Look out for an email from HR. We shall see you in about two months when the school year starts. Oh, and if you need help finding a place to live, I know of a place in town near the school that might work great.”
“That would be amazing. I know how hard it is to find housing in town, so any suggestions would be appreciated.”
“I’ll be sure to send it over. We’re excited to have you.”
“Thank you,” I say before we both say bye, and I disconnect the call.
“Oh my God!” Bower squeals, then launches herself on me. “You got the job. You got the freaking job.”
Tears well up in my eyes. This is the kind of break that Bennett and I need. Based on what Mr. Ganbear said during the interview, the salary alone will be more than enough. I’ll be helping Bennett and getting my foot in the door of a male-dominated position.
“I can’t believe it.” I shake my head. “I really thought I messed it up.”
“You didn’t. You nailed it. Ugh, how satisfying.” Bower pulls me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” When I back away, I say, “But that means I have to move.”
“I know,” she says with a sad smile. “But we knew that when you went for the interview, and we were willing to face that hardship for an opportunity like this. It’s not like you’re that far away. Three hours is drivable. This is what you need.”
“I know.” I smile, sitting back on the couch. “I can’t believe it. This is amazing. Really freaking . . .” My mind starts connecting the dots, and I think about what this means. “Holy shit, Bower.”
“What?” she asks.
“I got the job.”
“I know.” She smiles and takes my hands in hers, dancing them about. “We got the job.”
“No.” I grow serious. “I got the job.”
She matches my energy as she nods. “Yes, you got the job.”
“Don’t you know what that means?”
Confused, she asks, “More opportunity?”
“No, Bower.” I grip her shoulders. “It means I have to work with Ryland Rowley. The man who just rocked my world!”
“Ohhhh,” she says, shrugging. “So?”
“So?” I ask, getting up from the couch. “All you have to say is so? Bower, this is not a shrug, ‘so’ moment. This is aholy shit, we need to freak outmoment.”
“I don’t see why. So you had sex, who cares?”
I point at my chest. “I do. I care. I care a whole fucking lot. I told him . . . oh, Jesus.” I grip my head, remembering that night. “I told him I was a travel blogger, or something like that, going from town to town writing about all the quirky places I stay.”
