Unsteady (The Torqued Trilogy Book 1) (11 page)

I nod, tucking the note in my pocket and take a seat on the couch in the office underneath the window. “Did you know Lennon was a chick?”

“No.” She giggles, fucking giggles like this is entertaining and then quickly covers her mouth. “Why is that a big deal?”

“Well for one, she’s a chick,” I point out.

Raven chooses then to come in, leaning casually against the counter and looking out the window that overlooks the shop above my head. “So you hired a hottie. Who gives a shit?”

I ignore Raven altogether and stare at my mother seated in front of me. “She’s not going to work.”

“Says who?” Raven asks, still staring out the window, and I assume she’s watching her. “Damn, she’s got some long-ass legs.” And then her eyes drop to mine. “I’d do her if I was into girls.”

Mom kinda looks at her like she’s crazy, which let’s face it, Raven is, and then regards me. “Red, honey, give her a chance. I raised you better than to be some kind of male chauvinistic jerk who thinks women can’t do what men do.”

That pisses me off, and I stand. “I’m not saying she can’t work on cars. I’m just saying here, with this group, it’s a bad idea.”

Raven turns her head to mom and takes a slow drink of her coffee. “He makes an arguable point there.”

Colt comes into the office to fill up his mixer for his flask. “This chick,”—he gestures with a nod to the shop—“she didn’t make eye contact with me. Should we trust people who don’t make eye contact?”

I stare at him. “You didn’t make eye contact either. You were staring at her tits, old man.”

He snorts and sets the coffee pot down. “I’m just saying you can tell a lot about someone who doesn’t make eye contact.”

“Clearly you’re talking about yourself,” Raven remarks, shaking her head.

“Well, yeah.”

Groaning, I push away from the counter when mom waves me off. “Go show her around and act like a damn gentleman to her or I’ll personally kick your ass.”

My mom threatens me with violence at least once a day. Every threat has gone unanswered so far.

Digging through the repair orders on the counter, I glance out the front window to see a car being towed in. I meet the tow-truck driver outside and nod to the car. “What’s wrong with this one?”

He shrugs, handing me an invoice. “No idea. She said it just died alongside the freeway.”

I look over the newer silver Nissan and then wave him to drop it off near the front doors. As I’m walking into the shop, Tyler asks, “Want me to look at that one.”

“No,” I bark over my shoulder, stalking toward Lennon, who hasn’t moved from in front of my toolbox. I motion for her with a simple flick of my hand for her to follow me. Surprisingly, she does. “Looks like I’m your boss. My name is Reddington. Everyone calls me Red. I own the place. What do you go by, Lennon?” I don’t bother looking over my shoulder at her. I can’t.

“Most people call me Lenny.” She keeps step with me, never faltering.

We stop walking and stand in front of my brother’s toolbox, the first at the opposite end of the shop from me. “Rawley… this is Lenny. She’s our new mechanic.” I look to Lenny. “Lenny, this is Rawley. That guy over there is Daniel. You know Tyler, and the old guy over there drinking a beer in the morning is Colt.”

I give her a quick rundown of the shop from where the bathrooms are, the office, the lunch room, our specialty tools we share, the brake lathe, tire machine, oil drain, places to drain the oil, smoke testers, alignment machine and our computer with manuals on them.

Finally, and though she keeps up with everything I’m saying to her, I have to be honest with her if she thinks she’s going to get any sort of special treatment from me. “I go by the same rules my father went by. If you want to work here, great, do your job.” I shrug. “If not, there’s the door.”

“I’m ready to work,” she remarks, not the least bit phased by my harshness.

I’ll work you out.
Fuck! Stop it.

Fuck! Why does everything she say sound dirty?
Shit. Stop it.

I swallow, forcing myself to look away before I answer. I need a minute to calm my thoughts before I tell her what’s really on my mind, which is, I want to fuck this woman and her attitude.

I point to the Nissan that was just delivered in parking lot “Okay, well, if you’re as good as Tyler thinks, and you’re ready to work, tell me what’s wrong with that car.”

“Is it running?” she asks, her eyes following my hand.

“Nope. Customer said it died on the freeway.”

Rawley calls my name from the opposite end of the shop, holding up an oil filter in his hand. “Red, we need you!”

I leave Lenny with the Nissan outside and approach Rawley and Daniel, who work together most days as our lube techs.

From the corner of my eye, I watch Lenny walk over to the Nissan and pop the hood. She then bends forward to reach underneath. Fuck it. At this point, I physically turn to watch, gawking like a teenager. Fucking sue me. I can’t help myself.

As she bends over the engine, her shorts ride up just enough to see the beginning of the swell of her perfect ass. She’s definitely
not
allowed to wear those shorts. Ever again.

After I get Rawley and Daniel on track for the morning, I walk back to my toolbox and go through the repair orders for the day and who can do what. It’s my job to hand out the jobs to the mechanics, as well as do work on them myself. By nine, I have everyone going on a job, but my eyes keep drifting back to Lenny in the parking lot.

I half expected her to just start putting in parts, but she surprises me with doing some diagnostic instead. She checks for spark, fuel pressure, compression, and then finally comes over to me wiping her hands on a shop rag. “There’s no fuel pressure.”

I smirk, nodding to the car. “So I suppose you want to put a fuel pump in it?”

She’s not angry with me or surprised I’m acting this way. Maybe she’s used to it, but she’s somewhere between jaded and indifferent, and I kinda like that she can take shit when it’s handed out.

Lenny raises her gaze from the car to mine and shakes her head. “Wow. You really don’t think I know what I’m doing at all, do you?”

“Well… until you prove me otherwise, I’m inclined to think your looks have gotten you every job you’ve ever wanted.” I push off the wall to stand directly in front of her. “If you’re in over your head, just say so,
princess
.”

“I could say the same about you,” she says, her voice laces with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

I’m not sure if she’s saying I’m hot or what that comment is about but I like her attitude. Our heated gazes collide before I slide my eyes down her body but then I snap back to reality before my behavior can be misconstrued as inappropriate as my thoughts are.

“Honey, you don’t know a damn thing about me,” I say brusquely, trying to ignore the anger rising inside of me. Though I’m pretty fucking quick to judge her, I don’t like her judging me.

She’s undeterred by me completely, which sparks my irritation. “I need to check to see if the pump is getting power first.”

She’s gone for maybe ten minutes and returns.

I raise an eyebrow. “Fuel pump?”

She barks out a forced laugh and looks away toward the car, her platinum blonde hair with black streaks throughout it brushing her bare shoulders. “No. It needs a relay, not a fuel pump.”

Goddamn it, she knows her shit. Fuck, this is gonna suck.

I take a step back, a frown pinching my forehead. “Well then, get to it. You’re wasting time standing here with me.”

She turns to me, eyes painted in angst. “Are you sure you don’t want to hover over me and watch. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong so you can be a dick all day long?”

Stepping forward, she’s trapped between me and my toolbox as I reach around her for the tools she needs to replace the replay. The calloused pads of my fingers lightly graze her forearm in the process, and the touch sends a jolt through my body. She shivers under my touch, her breathing increasing.

I move in closer, letting my chest mold to her as I reach around her to grasp the hose.

Stupid fucking move, Red. Stupid move.

She shudders for just a second before seeming to melt into the contours of my chest. Either that or she feels my erection, and I’m not even sure if I would be disappointed by that. I’m barely able to keep myself from unzipping my jeans and thrusting up into her right here. Hell, look at her shorts. I bet all I’d have to do is push them aside a little. “You tell me, can you handle it?”

Am I referring to my dick?

Her gaze never falters, not even the slightest. “I’m sure I can take care of it.”

And I hope like hell she’s referring to my dick.

I nod. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure you can handle a lot of pressures just fine.”

What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Me?

She says absolutely nothing.

With a chuckle, I step back creating space.

Fuck, Red, really?
I want to punch myself. What the fuck am I thinking doing this shit?

Clearly, I’m not. Not only is my self-control on the line but my body is having an insanely unprecedented response to her.

I know what I need to do.

I need to send this woman
away
, tell her this just isn’t going to work and to find work somewhere else, hell, maybe even send her over to my uncle’s shop. But then, fuck that. I don’t want my cousins looking at her this way.

So I don’t do anything, because right now, all I can think about is helping myself.

I turn to Tyler, who’s glaring at me. “I fucking hate you.”

Note to self: Be more of an asshole so she wants to leave. If not, I’m screwed.

And just like that, I have to adjust myself again.

Standing in the bathroom that is clearly only used by men, I look into the mirror hoping to find some sort of answer to the one question I have been asking myself for the last two hours. What in the hell was Tyler thinking?

It’s obvious that Red had no idea
who
he was hiring, and while I should feel bad about that, all I’m left with is disgust at what an asshole he is. I’ve been here for less than a half a day, and the only thing I can think of that would make this day any better is punching the hot son of a bitch in the face.

Wait. What? Hot? No, not hot. Definitely not hot. Okay, maybe a little hot.

Being a woman in a job that is deemed a man’s domain, I’ve had to deal with my share of assholes over the years. In fact, I’ve become so accustomed to this type of behavior that I don’t expect anything else. The difference here is usually once I show that I’m not some dumb blonde trying to play garage, and actually know my shit, things get better. That does not seem to be the case with Red. Nope. The more I show him I know what I’m doing, the more he seems to get pissed.

How is it that I can go from one shit situation to another?

Easy. Story of my life.

When I was five, I lived with this family in Seattle. They had two older daughters who insisted on treating me like their slave. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? That shit was straight up Cinderella’s nightmare. My point? I was so glad to leave that house that the group home I was stuck after that where this girl Nora bitch slapped me at least once a week seemed like paradise.

I guess in some ways this was similar. Anything was better than living with Ben.

With a heavy sigh, I walk back into the shop.

In the few hours I’ve been here, Red has given me every shit job that comes in. I wasted a good hour trying to find a non-existent rattle in a woman’s Lexus only to then be given the bullshit task of removing a dead fucking rat from a heater vent.

It’s not more than five minutes later, and the lady is standing outside the shop doors waiting for someone to talk to her.

“I thought you were finished with the Lexus,” Red says, dragging in a heavy breath. I’m clearly annoying the hell out of him being here. The feeling is certainly mutual.

I’m confused and look around the shop. “I did.”

He gives me a dismissive nod outside. “Well, she’s still here. Go see what she wants.”