Page 10 of Dream Chaser

“But seriously.” I traced the rim of my goblet with my fingertip. “I’ve got nothing but my degree. No experience. No connections. How do I even start?”

“I’ll ask around,” she said. “I can talk to my father, see if we have openings. Meanwhile”—she poured more wine into my glass—“see what companies offer and start knocking on doors. Fake it till you make it, and something will open. A door or a window—you just need to get in.”

“I need to get in,” I echoed.

Two glasses of the fruity wine gave me the courage to start looking at job openings. I sat at the desk in the thankfully dust-free guest room, my laptop in front of me while Scarlett made herself comfortable on the bed.

My phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Preston’s name flashed on the screen, then my mother’s, and finally Donna’s. I turned the cell off and focused on the laptop.

“Everyone needs people with experience,” I said under my breath after clicking on yet another link. “I’ve wasted so much time. I should’ve stood my ground and looked for an internship as soon as I graduated.”

Scarlett pressed a pillow to her chest. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’re still young, and it’s never too late to start.”

After ten minutes of fruitless scrolling, a fresh job opening caught my eye: social media manager for a pro athlete. The agency wanted a degree in digital marketing or similar, photography skills, social media knowledge, and, of course, experience.

I had the first three covered, but I didn’t have any practical experience. And if I didn’t get a job fast, I’d be forced to admit defeat.

Lying to get noticed wasn’t ethical, but I didn’t have a choice.

I’d fake it till I made it—or at least until I secured a job.

CHAPTER THREE

Alejandro

July

“Why did you leave your previous company?”

Hugh, candidate number seven, shrugged, toying with my personalized black fountain pen he’d picked up off my desk. “You know how it is, man. They want you to be available twenty-four-seven but offer nada.”

Man. Sure, I wasn’t a boy at thirty-four, but the excessive familiarity was unwelcome. Especially because I knew what his former employer paid his senior marketing people. It wasn’t nada. It was mucho.

Demasiado—too much—for someone who clearly hadn’t pulled his weight.

“Well.” I rose and extended my hand. “I’ll be in touch. Thank you for your time.”

The guy shook it with the energy of someone who accidentally switched his double espresso for decaf after partying all night.

“Sure, man. Hit me up, yeah? I can already tell we’ll be a great fit.”

We would be, if Guerrero Sports Agency was looking for someone to babysit. Unfortunately for Hugh, we needed a driven marketing specialist to film content, manage Asher Williams’s and other athletes’ social media, and travel to motorcycle racing circuits during the season.

Asher was my client and one of my best friends. Unlike candidate number seven, he was mature and centered at his twenty-four. I clearly overestimated the rest of the guys his age.

Hugh swaggered toward the door.

“Hugh,” I called. “The pen.”

He tossed it onto my desk, winking. “Sorry, bro.”

For fuck’s sake. Never thought I’d be forced to choose, but between man and bro, the scales firmly tipped toward the former.

As soon as Hugh left, I released a groan into the empty office and rubbed the stubble on my chin, skimming the list of candidates. Only one more left today. My gaze fell upon the red question mark next to Nova Lockhart.

She shouldn’t be on this list. Not after what I’d discovered while reviewing her application yesterday. But she claimed to be good at photography, and I’d been curious enough to schedule an interview.

I’d find out if she’d lied about that too in—I glanced at my watch—ten minutes.