M ila had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted the man sitting in front of her to say, “You’re hired.”
Yes, she needed the money, but landing her first forensic artist position would be more than a paycheck. It would be her big break, one that would catapult her out of hourly work into the whole new world of salaries and benefits. More importantly, going to work for Lonestar Security would pave a new relationship with her stepbrother — as a professional who was going places like him.
“Relax.” The man who held the power to decide her future leaned conversationally her way, filling her vision with his broad shoulders and earnest brown gaze. “I didn’t lie awake all night coming up with a long list of gotcha questions.”
Good to know. Mila’s breath came out in more of a huff than a chuckle. Since her interviewer seemed to be waiting for a response, she did what she always did when she was nervous. She made a joke. “I take it I’m getting your shorter list of gotcha questions? ”
Humor flashed across the hard lines and planes of Rock Hefner’s features. “Much shorter. Only one, actually.” He opened the manila folder in front of him on the conference table and slid a piece of paper her way. It was one of the three sketches she’d attached to her application.
She eyed the haystack with the whimsical, furry tail curled around the base of it. “I sketched this after running across a litter of foxes at Chester Farm. Unfortunately, the mama was overwhelmed by stranger danger and nixed the idea of a family portrait.” The fox had quickly nudged her brood into the empty hut beneath the haystack, just out of sight. Bummer!
“What was going through your mind when you added her tail to the sketch? Without her permission, of course.” Rock looked bemused as he pushed the sketch closer to her. “In case you missed my attempt at subtlety, that’s my way of asking for a peek into your process.”
I’m supposed to have a process? Mila’s confidence wavered, making the haystack go out of focus. It was just her luck that the man would ask something that didn’t appear in the fifty most common interview questions she’d found online —after she’d read every stinking one of them, no less! She hadn’t given a single thought to her so-called process .
“Whew! This is intense.” Feeling two shallow breaths away from hyperventilating, she stalled for time by glancing away from him, not wanting to say or do anything that would ruin her shot at the job. Normally, she was a lot harder to rattle, but discussing her art was different. Her art was her one big gift. It came straight from her soul. Sharing it with someone else never failed to make her feel stripped down and vulnerable.
“I was kidding about the gotcha question.” Rock’s voice was dry. “Maybe it would be easier if we came at this from a different angle.”
“Okay.” Mila forced her gaze back to his and found it difficult to breathe all over again. There was just something about him that…her mind drew a blank. Though she could have easily sketched it on paper, it was impossible to describe in words how he made her feel, so she gave up trying.
“How long have you been drawing?
That was an easy question. She forced a slow, palate-cleansing intake of air into her lungs. “Ever since I could hold my first crayon.”
Despite the simplicity of her response, he looked fascinated, which nudged her right back into emotionally off-balanced territory. She wasn’t accustomed to people finding her fascinating.
“Did you take art classes in high school?”
“No.” In hindsight, she should have. It would’ve sounded more impressive than the random list she was about to rattle off. Her mother had insisted that her choice of school electives and extracurricular activities underscored her lack of stick-with-it-ness, which wasn’t true. They were mostly due to her insatiable curiosity about the world around her. There might’ve been a teensy bit of rebellion involved, too. She’d been furious with her mother for relocating her on her fifteenth birthday from the glittering skylines of Dallas to a small cattle town. Afterward, she’d taken unholy joy in doing the opposite of everything her mother had recommended, like joining the Heart Lake High choir.
She swallowed a chuckle at the memory. “I took drama for three years.” Though the thought of performing on stage was enough to raise a blister on her brain, she’d quickly found her tribe among their small team of makeup artists — a group of rainbow-haired creatives with a jaw-dropping amount of body piercings. As expected, her mother had pitched a fit and created a new household rule that eliminated so much as the thought of getting a nose ring.
“And a semester of shop class,” she added, unable to hold back a smile. She’d been nursing a crush on a classmate, who’d graduated and gone into his family’s furniture making business. “Oh, and a master gardening class one summer.” Her smile faded. Her beloved friend, Mr. Monty, had taught the class at Chester Farm. His sudden passing a few months ago still made her heart ache like it was yesterday. He’d been the only real father figure in her life during her high school years, since her stepfather spent more time on the road than at home.
“Do you still garden?” The skin around the edges of Rock’s eyes crinkled a little.
The question pulled her out of the mire of melancholy she’d started sinking into. “As much as possible, despite living in apartment-ville.” Puttering through her urns, window boxes, and hanging pots was her happy place when she wasn’t sketching. “I’m known by my neighbors as the balcony-farming queen.” A few of them complained about the bees her blooming plants attracted each spring. So far, though, her landlord hadn’t put an end to her green thumbing. “It’s truly amazing how plants will grow in any direction you point them.” By mid-spring each year, she had tomato plants literally climbing the spokes of her balcony railing. They seemed happy there and produced a generous harvest all summer long.
“That I would like to see.” An inexplicable emotion momentarily softened Rock’s features, but he moved right on to the next topic. “Why’d you take shop class?”
She spread her hands, chuckling with embarrassment as she gave him the only answer that popped into her head — the truth. “My first serious crush on a boy.”
His brown eyebrows rose expressively.
“It went nowhere.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. “The guy never looked up from his bandsaw. Not once.”
Rock said something beneath his breath that she could’ve sworn sounded like idiot. Or maybe her ears were playing tricks on her. Getting called in for a last-minute interview had her senses all tangled up.
“My biggest takeaway from shop class,” she concluded, “was the repair I was able to make on my TV stand a few months ago. It saved me the cost of a replacement stand.” As soon as the confession left her lips, she hoped the inadvertent reference to her struggling finances didn’t make her sound desperate for a job. Which she totally was.
“Crafty.” Though Rock’s expression didn’t change, his eyes smiled unabashedly at her.
He doesn’t dislike me. After a lifetime of failing to live up to her family’s expectations, it was a wonderful feeling.
“I bet you learned some great life skills in there.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Which begs another question. When did you find time to draw around all that other stuff?”
“I made time. Still do.” Like an addict, she got downright twitchy if she went too many hours without making a few pencil marks on paper. Becoming a makeup artist had scratched that itch somewhat, but not entirely. She’d especially loved learning theater makeup — how to turn a perfectly normal human face into something entirely different, like an elf or a zombie. As much fun as it was to let her creative juices fly with makeup, it had never given her quite the same rush as drawing.
He nodded in approval. “How often do you draw?”
“Every day.”
“When? Where? Why?” he pressed.
“Anytime and anyplace the inspiration strikes.” She restlessly drummed her fingers on the cover of the sketchpad she’d brought with her.
His gaze followed her movements. “What’s that?”
She wordlessly picked it up and handed it to him.
He opened the cover and straightened, looking arrested. He slowly flipped through the pages, finally settling on the one she’d drawn right before heading to his office. “You were feeling nostalgic when you drew this. Maybe even a little sad. Why?”
She blinked in surprise. “That’s an interesting detail to pull out of a sketch.”
It was his turn to look surprised. “You’re the one who put it there. All I did was point it out.”
“True.” Wowsers! Something warm and wonderful blossomed inside her at the realization that she was speaking to one of those rare people who truly understood art. “I guess it’s because I was parked outside the gates of Chester Farm. Heart Lake will never be the same without Mr. Monty. May he rest in peace.” Her heart ached over not having the chance to say goodbye to him. According to the obituary notice she’d read after the fact, his memorial service had been a private graveside affair.
“So the locals keep telling me.” Rock closed her sketchpad and handed it back. “I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting him.”
“You would’ve liked him.” She hugged her sketchpad against her chest. “He was a good man.” Her words ended on a thready note. The obituary had made some vague reference to a heart attack.
He nodded sagely at her. “Thank you for sharing some insight into your process.”
She hugged the sketchpad tighter. “I wasn’t aware it was called that.”
“Call it whatever you want.” He cocked his head at her. “You make whoever is looking at your sketches feel like they’re present. You can feel the nip in the air. Smell the rotting hay. Taste the gritty dust.”
She wrinkled her nose playfully at him. “My apologies.”
His hard mouth twisted with humor. “Some of the crime scenes we’ll be visiting will smell far worse. Having you there to capture them in such visceral detail will be a tremendous asset to our firm.”
Her lips parted on a gasp of astonishment. “Are you actually offering me the job?”
“I am.” A chuckle rumbled out of him. “After months of slogging through resumes, yours quickly swam to the top of the pile. Today’s interview was more of a formality than anything else.”
“A formality?” Her voice rose in disbelief. What game was he playing? Was this some kind of test? Another gotcha question?
“Yep.” While watching her frantic efforts to keep it together, Rock Hefner pushed his manilla folder in her direction. “Our offer is already printed and ready for your signature. As stated in the original job description, it’s a newly created position. Full-time. Salaried with benefits. You’ll also have access to our fleet of company vehicles, though it appears you’re already driving one.”
Mila wasn’t sure how he knew that, but she didn’t ask. Her heart pounded with a heady mix of excitement, anticipation, and dread as she opened the folder. The salary listed on the top page of the job offer made her feel like hyperventilating all over again. It was more money than she’d ever made in her life, more than she’d even hoped for. She resisted the urge to dig out a pen and sign it before he could change his mind. Or maybe she should do exactly that before her stepbrother swept into the room and changed his mind for him.
She carefully laid her sketchpad beside the open folder. Now that she had a job offer in hand, there was no point in continuing to ignore the elephant in the room. “If you know about my vehicle, then you also must know…” She left the rest of the sentence dangling, silently inviting Rock to complete it for her.
“That you’re related to my boss? Yep.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “Since you’re the top candidate for this position, your resume naturally received the most scrutiny.”
The word scrutiny made her inwardly cringe.
“Any information about you that’s public knowledge,” he continued in a bland voice, “just assume I already know it.”
“I have nothing to hide.” Though if it were possible to hide anything during the Internet age, she surely would have. The most embarrassing moment of her life was forever cemented in digital history — the afternoon she’d become a runaway bride. After the snapshots and video clips of the event had gone viral, she’d shut down most of her social media accounts. It was the least she could do to minimize the blowback on her family.
Rock raised one dark eyebrow at her. “I wouldn’t mind hearing more about your Cowboys for Kingston group. Off the record, of course.”
She gaped at him for a few beats before exploding into laughter. “That wasn’t exactly public knowledge.” She’d all but forgotten about the anonymous group she’d started online in support of her stepbrother’s campaign for town council.
Rock’s gaze took on a sly glint. “Like I said, my scrutiny of your resume was very thorough.”
“Correction.” Her voice was sheepish. “I have almost nothing to hide. I was just doing my part to get Deck elected.” She’d discreetly rallied her stepbrother’s old friends and contacts from the rodeo circuit to flood the Internet with pictures and stories about his championship bull riding days. She’d ultimately failed to erase the runaway bride stories. They were simply too juicy. However, she’d managed to bury them decently far beneath her Cowboys for Kingston posts.
Rock produced a pen, flipped it into the air, and caught it. Then he held it out to her. “If you agree to come work for Lonestar Security, I promise to share some of my own harrowing exploits while serving in the Special Forces.”
That certainly would explain his wounded leg. Her gaze flicked briefly to the cane propped against his chair before returning to his tanned features.
There was a rigid set to his jaw that hadn’t been there before.
She wordlessly accepted the pen he was holding out and signed the job offer with a flourish. The empty signature line beneath hers took some of the joy out of the moment. Her stepbrother’s name was typed there. Disappointment seeped into her mouth .
It was just her luck that he was the guy who would have to approve Rock’s hiring decision. Or not approve it, which was more likely the case. Why couldn’t the person signing off on it be his business partner, Josh Hawling? Or Gil Remington, whom they’d recently brought on board as a third partner? Wasn’t forensic art more down a retired sheriff’s alley than that of a retired bull rider? Or what about the fourth partner they’d brought on board around the same time as Gil? Though Mila had yet to meet the man, she’d read somewhere that he was an attorney. More importantly, he was not her stepbrother — a man filled to the brim with too many biases against her to recognize her true value.
She set the pen down on top of the job offer, trying to breathe normally through the tang of bitterness on her tongue. Summoning what she hoped was a casual voice, she inquired, “What comes next?” She was afraid she already knew the answer, but it wasn’t in her nature to give up. She was like a mountain climber who’d lost her footing, digging her fingernails into the last ledge of hope.
“Final approvals.” Rock closed the folder with the pen still inside it. “The top dogs at Lonestar Security carefully vet every prospective new employee, which is why I took so long doing my part. If I’d left a single stone unturned, I’d hear about it from them.” He double tapped his forefinger against the folder. “I’ll make sure you get copies of all the final paperwork.”
Mila tried to take heart in the way he was making it sound like getting Decker Kingston’s hallowed signature was routine —just another box to check. However, she was afraid it was anything but.
He pointed at her sketchpad. “Mind if I see that again? ”
It took her an extra second or two to absorb his latest question. “Um, sure.” Inwardly shaking off her misgivings, she slid it back in his direction.
He opened it, flipped to a blank page, and turned the pad around to her. “Any chance you’d be willing to draw something while I watch?”
“Of course.” She’d never before felt so defeated. Or less inspired. If, by some miracle, she made it through the final phase of Lonestar Security’s hiring process, working for Rock Hefner certainly wouldn’t be boring. He seemed to enjoy saying and doing the unexpected. He was particularly skilled at nudging her out of her comfort zone and keeping her there.
She bit her lower lip, trying to scrape together any drop of remaining inspiration that her anxiety level had failed to decimate. “What would you like me to draw?”
He shrugged. “Whatever inspires you.”
Hoh, boy! She hid her answering wince by straightening in her chair. Being put on the spot was more unnerving than inspiring, but it was a fair request during a job interview. This was her chance to prove that the sketches she’d included with her job application weren’t thousand-hour labors of love. She was highly capable of sketching on the fly, something that would undoubtedly be required of a forensic artist on staff at her brother’s firm.
She glanced toward the pen still closed inside the manila folder. “Would you like me to use a pencil or pen?”
“Your choice.” Instead of opening the folder and returning the pen to her, he stood.
“The pencil is my weapon of choice.” She wasn’t worried about making mistakes or using the eraser as a crutch. She genuinely preferred sketching with the softer tip of a piece of lead or charcoal. By insisting it was her choice, she could only assume Rock had a pencil to lend her.
Reaching for his cane, he thump-dragged himself to his desk. He rummaged in one of the drawers and returned with a vintage wooden box. The lid was held in place by an ox horn latch of tarnished bronze.
Mila swallowed a sigh. She dearly loved old things.
Rock took his time getting seated and carefully propping his cane against the side of his chair once again before opening the box. He angled its contents in her direction. A set of six graphite pencils were arrayed there in various degrees of lead hardness. They were labeled as 2H, HB, B, 2B, 4B, and 6B.
Nice. “Something tells me that beautiful box comes with a story.” She selected the 2B hardness, instinctively gripping her fingers and thumb directly above the shaved-off tip on the hexagonal-shaped pencil. “Someday, I’d like to hear it.” She moved the pencil over the blank page of her sketchpad, quickly outlining her brother’s sturdy frame.
“Someday, I’ll tell you.” Rock laid the pencil box on the far end of the table and leaned back in his chair, a move that felt deliberate. Though he was watching her like a hawk — she could feel it —he wasn’t hovering.
“I ran into Decker on my way into the building.” She rapidly drew her stepbrother’s expression of surprise and mild discomfort. He’d been even more caught off guard than she had by their encounter, which meant he hadn’t been expecting her. If he’d known about the interview at all, he hadn’t known she was the candidate that Rock would be meeting with.
Rock didn’t respond, but his silence didn’t feel mean-spirited or judgmental.
Sensing his curiosity, Mila kept talking while she worked. “I was fifteen when my mom married his dad.” Deck was five years older than her. “By the time my mom dragged me kicking and screaming to Heart Lake, Decker had already been on the rodeo circuit for a couple of years. We never really got to know each other, but I’d very much like to change that now that we’re older.” There. She hoped it sounded like a reasonable explanation for why she and her stepbrother weren’t close.
He’d missed her high school graduation, her beauty school graduation, and her almost wedding. Though no one had come right out and said it, she’d gotten the impression that he hadn’t been too happy about his dad marrying her mom. She’d also gotten the impression that he hadn’t been any happier about his dad’s subsequent decision to move his blended family to Heart Lake, where Deck had built a new life for himself. They saw so little of him, though, that they might as well still be living in different towns. It was something Mila hoped to change. Soon. With this job, Lord willing.
The strokes of her pencil became heavier, darker, and more determined as she filled in the details of her sketch. When it was finished, she was staring down at a complicated man with a complicated past, one whose life had become indelibly intertwined with hers.
If someone had asked her why it was suddenly so important to pursue a meaningful relationship with her stepbrother, she would’ve struggled to put her reasons into words. Maybe it was because she had no memories of her biological father, who’d died shortly after she was born, or because she’d been raised by an impossible-to-please mother. Or maybe it was because she and her stepdad had never really clicked. Not that his travel schedule as a farm equipment salesman had given them much opportunity to bond. On the upside, her mother usually accompanied him, which gave Mila a much-needed break from her endless fountain of criticism.
Or maybe it was because everybody needed somebody. And now that Mila was no longer the recipient of Monty Chester’s kindhearted mentoring and encouragement, she was anxious to fill the void he’d left in her life.
Like it or not, I could really use a brother right now. She laid down her borrowed pencil and held out the hasty sketch to Rock. I know I’m the baby sis you never asked for, but here I am. She longed for more than a single, tension-charged family dinner at the Taj Mahal — a lot more, starting with his signature on the job offer in front of her.
Rock lifted her sketchpad to take a closer look at what she’d drawn. A satisfied expression spread across his face. “I’d like to add this to your file.” He glanced toward the door. “It won’t take long to run make a photocopy.”
She resisted the urge to glance again at his cane. They both knew he wasn’t running anywhere. “Just hang onto the pad.” She gestured at it with both hands. “Photocopies never look as good as the originals, and I really want this job.” She could easily go without it for a few days, since she had sketch books and pads coming out of her ears at her apartment.
His eyebrows rose expressively. “The job is already yours, Mila.” He set her sketchpad on top of the manilla folder. “That’s what all this paperwork is about.” Humor edged his voice.
Was it, though? She gave a quick up-down nod to acknowledge his words, wanting more than anything to believe him. “Assuming you get all the approvals you need, when will I start?” For now, it seemed prudent to play along and say things he’d expect a new employee to say .
“As soon as possible.” His jaw tightened as he glanced down at his cane. “They’ve been breathing down my neck to expand our new forensics team.” His tone indicated that the owners of Lonestar Security didn’t like how long it had taken him to reach this point in the hiring process.
The us-against-them feel of his statement only served to skyrocket Mila’s desire to be a part of his team. Slipping the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she pushed to her feet, eager to get out of his hair so he could get working on the final approvals. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to impress Rock Hefner, but her gut told her he intended to go to bat for her.
He stood and extended his hand. “Thanks again for coming in on such short notice.” His lips twitched. “And for accepting my job offer. Feels like an early Christmas gift.”
Her eyes widened in amazement. Not once in her life had anyone ever referred to her as an early Christmas gift. “It’s really nice of you to say that.” She shook his hand, so overwhelmed with gratitude that she felt close to drowning in it.
His larger hand gently engulfed hers. “I meant it.” Unless her overwrought imagination was playing tricks on her, he pressed her fingers a second or two longer than he had to before dropping her hand. There was also the possibility it had been so long since her last date that she was reading way too much into his simple words and gestures.
“Thanks,” she murmured, feeling like it was the safest response to his exorbitant kindness.
Rock backed toward his desk, miming the act of raising a phone to his ear. “I’ll call you as soon as I get your brother’s signature.”
His declaration felt like a needle prick to a balloon. Mila’s breath seeped out of her. She settled for giving him a nervous flutter of her fingers as she moved toward the door.
She pulled it open and blindly stepped into the hallway. A few steps later, she nearly plowed into Decker for the second time that day.
He smirked as he reached for her shoulders to steady her again. “We’ve got to stop running into each other like this.”
His words felt like a splash of icy water. “I don’t know,” she drawled. Her voice came out threadier than she intended. “Part of me kind of wouldn’t mind making a habit of it.” Her pride wouldn’t allow her to drop to her knees and beg him for the job, but there was no way he didn’t hear the pleading note in her voice.
The unusual shade of his eyes glinted beneath the fluorescent lights. When he was being nice, they reminded her of raw honey. At the moment, they reminded her of a panther ready to spring. “You sure know how to keep things exciting, don’t you?”
Yep, he was definitely in panther mode. It was impossible to miss his thinly veiled reference to her status as a runaway bride. “Well, maybe this will help cool your jets.” If they were on better terms, she would’ve stuck her tongue out at him. However, that didn’t feel like something that would get her any closer to winning his signature on her job application. “I’ve decided to accept your invitation to dinner, whether or not you choose to hire me.”
“Mila, Mila, Mila,” he sighed, clenching his jaw.
“What?” She was kind of enjoying getting under his skin. Anything was better than the indifference he normally treated her with. “Look at it this way. If you hire me, I’ll show up with a heart full of gratitude.” She stepped around him with her hands spread mockingly. “If you don’t hire me, I’m gonna need the free meal since I’m currently between jobs.”
His confused look made her chuckle as she continued down the hallway toward the parking garage.
“Six o’clock,” he called after her.
She waved without turning around. By the time she reached the borrowed SUV, she felt more like crying than laughing. Her very future lay in her stepbrother’s hands, along with her ability to make her next rent payment.
I really, really, really need this job, Deck. She drew a shuddery breath as she lifted her key fob and tapped the button to unlock the vehicle. Nothing happened. She tapped the button again and could hear a clicking sound. However, the door remained locked. She jiggled the handle, feeling a little panicky. Had her stepbrother decided now was the time to reclaim his vehicle? In which case, she’d be walking home in utter shame. Surely not! She frantically mashed the button on her key fob again.
“Ma’am?” a man called out.
Now what? She yanked her head in the direction of his voice.
A cowboy in jeans and a black jacket bearing the Lonestar Security logo jogged in her direction. His tousled black hair waved haphazardly from beneath his Stetson. “Are you Mila Kingston?”
“It depends.” She shrugged, fighting tears of frustration. “Who’s asking?”
He grinned as he held out a hand to her. “Johnny Cuba. The guy holding the keys to your new set of wheels.”
“My what?” She stared blankly at the key fob dangling from his tanned, callused fingers.
“Your. New. Wheels.” The ruggedly handsome security guard spoke slowly, as if she was hard of hearing, and made a comical rolling motion with his hands. “Decker said the one you’ve been driving is overdue for servicing. He wants to swap it out with a different one.” He angled his head at the silver Lexus SUV parked to their right.
Overwhelming relief washed over Mila, bringing a sting of dampness to her eyes as she drank in the gleaming replacement vehicle. “A Lexus? You’ve gotta be kidding me!” She wondered if she’d heard right. If Decker was upgrading her vehicle instead of taking it away, did it mean…?
She swung her head to the security camera mounted over the glass doors leading into the building. Pressing a hand to her heart, she mouthed thank you to the camera.
For the wheels.
For the consideration he was giving right now to Rock’s hiring recommendation.
For the forthcoming dinner with him and his family.
Johnny Cuba watched her curiously as he unlocked the Lexus and opened the driver’s door for her.
“In case you’re wondering, I started off as a bodyguard here, but I recently got transferred. I’m now one of their P.I.s in training.” He sounded so proud of that fact that she felt bad about not being in the mood to chitchat. It wasn’t his fault that every cell in her body was on standby for the next phone call from Rock Hefner.
“Very cool.” Though she didn’t need any assistance, it felt rude to ignore the hand he was holding out, so she used it to boost herself to the running board. I can’t believe I get to drive this thing home. It was so luxurious inside and out! She slid into the driver’s seat, reaching nervously for the steering wheel. It was a good thing she had something to hold on to while the heady scent of newness assailed her. New leather. New chrome accessories. New navigation system. There was nothing stripped down about the Lexus. It even had the backseats installed.
A wave of dizziness washed over her. It was the good kind of dizziness, though. The kind that promised something was finally going right for her. She hoped like crazy that it meant her stepbrother was right this second picking up an ink pen to sign her new lease on life.
She squeezed her eyelids shut for a few seconds, hoping and praying, as she fought to steady her breathing.
Rock glanced up as Decker stepped into his office and quietly shut the door. Instead of moving toward the pair of chairs in front of his desk, his boss leaned back against the door. Though he was only average height, he possessed a commanding presence. “Why her?” He trained an unblinking stare on Rock that would’ve unnerved lesser men.
Rock didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He knew they were speaking about Mila Kingston. He stood and reached for his cane, preferring to argue his case on his feet.
Decker waved him back into the leather swivel chair behind his desk. “I don’t need a speech. Just answer the question.”
Touchy. Rock sat back down, leaning his forearms on the edge of his desk. Though he would’ve preferred to deliver an attorney-style set of opening remarks, he was more than capable of making his point while keeping it short. “Mila is the right person for the job.”
Decker’s jaw remained hard. “Exactly when did you figure out who she was, and why haven’t we discussed her identity before now?”
Rock had anticipated these questions, so he was ready with answers. “Mila disclosed her relationship to you on her job application, so I knew about it from the start. Since the two of you are family, I had no reason to believe you weren’t already informed about, well…everything.” The last part wasn’t entirely true. The more Rock had dug through Mila’s background on social media, the more apparent it had become that she and her stepbrother led very separate lives. Decker wasn’t in any of her pictures, and she wasn’t in any of his. It had been easy to connect the dots.
Decker’s mutinous expression didn’t ease. “Seems to me you would’ve at least approached me for a character reference or something.”
“For your own sister?” Rock continued to play his part, spreading his hands innocently. “To be honest, I was a little surprised you never approached me about the topic. When you didn’t, I naturally assumed you were recusing yourself to avoid influencing my hiring decision about a family member.” It seemed like the right juncture to toss in a gentle reminder of any biases his boss might harbor against his stepsister.
Decker pushed away from the door, stalking in his direction. “Why do you feel Mila is the right person for the job? Since she’s spent most of her adult life employed as a makeup artist, there’s no way she has much relevant job experience.”
“She has none.” Rock felt it was best to keep his answers brutally honest. “What she has is a rare gift for capturing what she sees to the most infinitesimal detail.” He opened the manila folder and held out the three sketches she’d included with her job application. “I screened dozens of other applicants. I assure you that her artistic abilities stand head and shoulders above them all. ”
Decker accepted the sketches Rock was holding out, claiming one of the chairs in front of his desk while he scowled over them. “She has skill. I’ll give her that.”
Rock snorted. It was an understatement bordering on insulting. “They’re worthy of framing and hanging on the wall. They make you feel like you can step right into the picture.” Before Decker could respond, Rock flipped opened Mila’s sketchpad to reveal her latest drawing. He turned it around so Decker could see it. “It only took her about five minutes to draw this one.”
Decker leaned closer to the sketchpad, looking fully arrested. “Unbelievable.”
That was the reaction Rock had been hoping for. “The years of experience listed on the resumes of the other candidates paled in comparison to this.” He tapped a finger against the drawing she’d made of Decker. “She won’t simply draw what she sees at a crime scene, she’ll add in the malice still hanging in the air and the scent of the decaying corpse stretched out at her feet.”
Decker straightened. “She’s always had a flair for drama. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised her art reflects it.”
“But you are.” Rock didn’t hesitate to pounce on that detail. “Speaking of drama, someone with a background in theater makeup might feel like a God-send to my fellow investigators before you send them undercover.” Like my brother, for instance.
Decker shook his head, looking bemused. “You can be very convincing when you feel so strongly about something.”
But had Rock been convincing enough? He leaned closer to his boss, going for the money shot. “If we were discussing anyone besides a member of your family, would you approve my hiring decision? ”
Decker met his gaze squarely. “We’re a private company. We can hire anyone we want.”
And turn anyone away that you don’t want. Rock’s heart sank at what his boss had left unsaid.
“As for her being the right person for the job, I need you not to be wrong about her.” Decker’s voice took on an urgent edge. He didn’t explain what he meant by that, and Rock didn’t ask.
“I’m not wrong.” Elation flooded his chest and spread. We did it! We actually did it! It was as easy as breathing to include Mila in the win. From the moment she’d stepped into his office, he could sense how badly she wanted the job. He scooted his job offer in Decker’s direction, pen and all.
Decker picked up the pen and clicked the silver button to extend the ink tip. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, scrawling out his signature on the designated line. He tossed the pen down and stood. “Though starting a forensics team was my baby, this is the part where we pull Gil back into the loop. You’re going to need to tap into his thirty-something years as a sheriff for what comes next.”
“Will do.” Rock felt like breaking into a two-step as he stood. “Thank you for trusting my judgment.”
Decker quirked a smile at him. “Mila is coming over for dinner this evening. Believe me, you just made her visit a lot more pleasant.”
His boss’s demeanor suggested that a visit from Mila wasn’t a common occurrence. “Glad I could help.” Rock couldn’t hold back a grin, feeling very much like he should take a little credit for it. He also didn’t waste a second dialing Mila after Decker left his office.
She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Rock!” She sounded out of breath, like she’d run a mile to reach the phone.
“Welcome to Lonestar Security, partner!” She’d technically be working for him, but he didn’t want her to focus on that. He wanted her to feel like she was joining a team. As the only two forensic artists at Lonestar Security, they would be in this together.