Chapter 8: A Girl Could Dream

Rebecca quietly unlocked the front door of Mrs. Tiedeman’s house, and crept inside. She didn’t want to disturb her landlady if she was already asleep.

“Rebecca, is that you?” a croaky voice said from the living room.

She closed and re-locked the door before crossing the foyer into the living room. “It’s me, Mrs. T,” she said with a smile.

“Goodness, you were out late,” Mrs. Tiedeman said, muting the sitcom she’d been watching on TV. She was already dressed for bed in a nightgown and robe. Her slate-gray hair fell in soft waves over her shoulder as she adjusted the throw blanket on her lap. Her elderly poodle, Max, lay snoozing at her side. “Did you have a date?”

Rebecca smiled, leaning over to scratch Max’s ears. The dog didn’t stir. “Better. I found a new job.”

“That’s wonderful news, dear,” Mrs. Tiedeman beamed. “Do you have to work evenings now?”

“No, tonight was a special case. My new boss asked me to stay late to get trained on a few things before I officially start tomorrow.”

“Do you need dinner? There’s leftover meatloaf in the refrigerator.”

“Thanks, but I’m good. We ordered Thai food.” She couldn’t resist adding, “And he paid my cab fare home.”

Mrs. Tiedeman’s eyebrows rose. “My, he sounds like a gentleman.”

“He’s very nice,” Rebecca said neutrally. “Well, I have to be up early for work tomorrow, so I’ll say good night.”

“Good night, dear,” Mrs. Tiedeman said, turning the sound back on the TV.

Rebecca made her way up the stairs and to her own room. By the sounds of it, the other two tenants – both elderly women – were asleep. They both had TVs in their rooms, and seldom joined Mrs. T in the evenings. It was a shame, as the poor soul was starved for company. Rebecca joined her whenever she could, even though she detested sitcoms.

Once inside her own room, Rebecca grabbed the pillow from her bed, pressed it against her face, and let out a muffled shriek of joy.

Her luck was finally turning. She had a new job, a new *fantastic* job. It was only for a few months, true, but if she impressed the company, maybe they’d find another position for her—a permanent one.

And her *boss.*

She’d nearly gone weak in the knees when she’d walked into the office and saw him sitting behind his desk. The tousled, longish reddish-brown hair, the sharp green eyes, the lean, handsome face. And then he’d stood up and unfolded that long length of him from his office chair.

She was a sucker for tall, lanky men.

It’d been all she could do to remain polite and professional. She fervently hoped that he hadn’t noticed how much he’d affected her.

It’d been easier once they got down to business and she was able to focus on the work, but even so, having him leaning over her shoulder to explain nuances of the calendar software had nearly driven her to distraction.

*Pull it together,* she warned herself. Besides being the second-in-command at Vannevar Software, Nico Vann was a billionaire. He was way out of her league.

He had to have brilliant, beautiful, rich women throwing themselves at his feet on a daily basis. There was no way a wealthy, handsome guy like him would ever be interested in a plump, penniless nobody like her.

Still, a girl could dream.

Not too much, though, Rebecca told herself as she readied for bed. It was of the utmost importance to keep her interactions with Nico Vann strictly professional for the next four months.

She badly needed this job, not to mention a good reference from HR if they weren’t able or didn’t want to find her a permanent position once the regular admin returned from medical leave.

The quickest way to get herself fired would be to flirt with or moon over her new boss. It’d be a recipe for disaster. She had to be friendly, but aloof. Cordial, but reserved. Most importantly, she had to be efficient and productive.

He absolutely could not find out about the disastrous state of her finances. He might think she was careless and irresponsible with her money, and might conclude that extended to her work.

She also had to make sure he never found out about her second job waitressing at The Whiskey Kitchen. He might question her commitment to her current job if he found out she had another.

Already, she cared about his opinion of her. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

Carefully, she removed her hated contact lenses. She much preferred her glasses, as the contacts made her eyes itch and water at the end of the day, but the contacts were more professional. At least, that’s what Blaze—what some people had told her.

It took several minutes to remove her makeup. She couldn’t afford the special cleanser she previously used and had to make do with cheap makeup remover from the dollar store. Once her skin was scrubbed clean, she critically studied her face in the mirror.

Round face, pale skin, big blue eyes with light brown lashes and eyebrows. A pert nose, full lips, and a forehead that was much too small. She sighed. She wasn’t hideous, but neither was she gorgeous. She was—well, plain. Ordinary.

When she removed the clip holding her chignon in place, her curly blonde hair sprang around her face. She was going to have to get up exhaustingly early tomorrow in order to have time to straighten it. Although maybe she could get away with the chignon again.

Rebecca studied her hair dispiritedly. Her sister Lindsey’s hair, although blonde like hers, was straight as a stick, as was their mother’s. Her father hadn’t had much hair, but the little he’d had was straight.

She’d gotten stuck with the Little Orphan Annie look, which she’d been told was an inheritance from the paternal grandmother she’d never known. Blaze had told her it wasn’t professional at all, which is why she took to straightening it most days, or put it up in a bun or chignon when she didn’t have time.

Thank goodness he hadn’t taken her flat iron with him when he skipped town with almost everything else remotely valuable she’d owned.

She shed her blazer, dress, hose, and heels, and threw on soft cotton shorts and an old, ratty T-shirt—her preferred sleepwear.

She climbed into bed and carefully set the alarm clock for five AM, also setting an alarm on her phone as a backup, just in case. She could NOT be late for her first full day of work.

She turned out the light and snuggled under her quilt. When she closed her eyes, all she could see—all she could think about—was Nico Vann.

Rebecca’s eyes popped open again, and she groaned. It was going to be a long night.