Revved to the Maxx

by Melanie Moreland

  Every customer, every single goddamn one of them, stared at her. They watched her sashay around the place,

  “Who the hell is that?” My customer Brian, asked, staring at her retreating figure.

  “New assistant.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “You lucky son of a bitch.” He stroked his chin. “She single?”

  “No,” I snapped, having no idea why I said that.

  “Damn.”

  “Trust me, be grateful. She looks like an angel, but she has a forked tongue.”

  “Who said I wanted to listen to her talk?” He quirked his eyebrows, which for some reason enraged me more. “Maybe I’d like that tongue somewhere.”

  “Show some respect.”

  He held up his hands. “Wow. Sorry.”

  I bent over the engine again, unable to explain my anger. Brian was a decent guy and I had known him a long time, but I didn’t like the way he was looking at Charly.

  I finished his job, shutting the hood. Before I could say anything, Charly came out of the office, her attitude brisk and businesslike. “Cash or credit?”

  He blinked. “Oh. Usually, I pay whenever.”

  She shook her head. “New policy. You have work done, you pay today.”

  “Oh.” He pulled out his credit card. “Okay.”

  “Oil change and tune-up?” Charly asked me. “List price?”

  It was my turn to blink. I had a list price?

  “Ah, five percent off for being a loyal customer,” I muttered.

  “Easy peasy. Follow me,” she directed Brian.

  He left a few moments later, clearly shell-shocked. I waved as he backed out the car, stopping to drink my now-cold coffee.

  I brought in the next car. She strolled out, her laptop and file in one hand, a steaming cup of coffee in the other. “I’m heading to the house. How many more cars do you have today?”

  “Only three. Tomorrow is booked solid.”

  She pursed her lips, setting down the items she was carrying. She waved toward the wall. “We need a system. Like a wipe-off board you write the schedule down on, so I know when to be around for payment. No more walking out without paying.”

  “They’re good for it.”

  “Not anymore. You do the work, I take the payment.”

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t make the rules here.”

  “Rules?” she snorted. “Yowsers—there are no rules! You need to pay better attention. I don’t know where you’ve been the last while, but your mind is not focused on this place.”

  Her words made me see red. I stepped right in front of her. “Where I’ve been is none of your business.”

  “Obviously it is if you hired me to help.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass, anyone ever tell you that?”

  “You’re a controlling jerk who refuses to admit he needs help.”

  We were so close, I could feel her warm breath on my face. See the flecks of gray in the green of her eyes. I glared at her.

  “You’re trying my patience, Red.”

  “You’re pissing me off,” she retorted, jabbing at my chest with her pointy finger.

  I grabbed her hand, and we both stared at it. Felt the heat bubbling in the air around us. Our gazes locked, and suddenly, my mouth was on hers. Demanding. Hard. Determined.

  She yanked back, her breathing hard. “You’re an asshole.”

  “I know.”

  Then she flung her arms around my neck and kissed me back. She pulled me hard, yanking on my hair. I wrapped my arm around her, settling my hand on that spectacular ass, and dragging her close. Our tongues battled for dominance, neither of us giving an inch.

  It was only the sound of a car door slamming out front that had us pulling apart. We faced each other, her lips swollen from our passion, her rapid breathing matching mine. My cock was hard and erect, pulsating with need.

  She swallowed. “I’ll order that wipe-off board.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, you do that.”

  She turned and fled.

  CHARLY

  I didn’t run because he kissed me. I ran because I was afraid that regardless of the fact that a customer was about to walk in, I was going to drag him back to my mouth.

  My god, the man—the growly, snarly bear of a man—could kiss. Considering the venom his mouth spewed, his lips were addictive and sweet. Even when he was angry. He controlled my mouth, and me, easily. Kissing him made me remember the night we shared. How he felt inside me, the sounds he made while we…

  My thoughts came to a standstill.

  Made love?

  Fucked?

  Had a fast fling?

  All three?

  I set down the laptop on the counter, noticing he had cleaned up after his dinner last night. I had to admit, the place was in chaos, but he, himself, was neat. He simply needed someone to sort through the destruction he’d created around himself.

  I sighed, confused. We were like oil and water. He was swift to anger, and somehow, he brought out the same reaction in me. One glare from him and my hackles rose.

  Holy moly. So did my temperature.

  I rubbed my forehead. I came here to do a job, and I was going to do it. He could huff and puff all he wanted. I ignored the little voice in my head that whispered she hoped there’d be more kissing. Pushing that annoying little voice away, I concentrated on the tasks I wanted to accomplish.

  I decided to start a simple casserole of macaroni and cheese for dinner. There were a couple of pieces of short ribs left over that Maxx could eat in addition to the casserole if he wanted to. I put the pot on to boil, then found a sharp knife, and began sorting boxes in the dining room. Most of them were empty, simply tossed to the side. I kept all the box tops so I could match them up with jobs, or where they were in the supply area of the garage. The ones that still contained parts, I piled in the mudroom to be carried to the garage. I worked happily, turning on some music, pleased when a couple of hours later, I stood back and admired my process. The table was clean, and I had polished the wood until it shone. I vacuumed the floor, admiring the heavy oak planks and the vintage scatter rug under the table. The casserole was on the counter, ready to heat, so I sat down, making more calls. Most people were shocked when I explained why I was calling, introducing myself, and the reason for my call. Many were more than happy to send an e-transfer once I gave them the amount owed. I had found a list of prices in the drawer and, after doing some checking, increased the pricing more to reflect today’s rates. No one objected to the amounts. A few were hesitant about my identity, and I informed them to feel free to call Maxx to verify who I was. Some insisted on dropping off payment at the garage later this week, no doubt curious as to what was happening. I was friendly and courteous, trying to represent Maxx in a professional manner.

  At least to his customers.

  I glanced around, surprised to see it was only three. The sound of heavy footsteps made me look up from the pile of paperwork as Maxx walked in, Rufus trailing behind him. Rufus headed in my direction, and I stroked his large head, scratching behind his ears the way I’d discovered he liked it.

  Maxx looked around, blinking. He sat across from me, silent and tense. I kept giving Rufus attention, waiting to see what Maxx would say.

  Would it be rude? Demanding? Snarky?

  He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. His voice was even, maybe even slightly amused. “My phone’s been going off nonstop.”

  “Oh?”

  “Customers making sure you aren’t scamming them. People wanting to know who you are.”

  “I see. I assume you verified I work for you and they better pay their damn bills.”

  One of his eyebrows slowly lifted, a grin playing on his lips. “I was a little more polite, but basically, yes. There should be more of your e-bills coming.”

  “E-transfers.”

  He waved his hand. “Whatever.” He eyed me with speculation. “What is this price list you referred to this morning?
”

  I pushed a list toward him, and he scanned it. “You increased all my prices.”

  “You were far too cheap. Not a single person complained when I gave them the amount they owed. You can offer your ‘loyal customer’ discount if they do.”

  He stroked his short beard, and I gazed at the movement of his long fingers, recalling how his scruff had felt against my skin.

  “Fine,” he agreed, pushing the list my way. “But I told you, I need to okay all changes.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You just did.”

  He opened his mouth, then shut it as if deciding not to argue with me.

  That was a first.

  “Maybe you can print out a list of deposits tomorrow. I’ll update the books and keep calling the rest,” I said, pushing forward. “And here’s some quotes for a decent computer. Look them over.” I tapped the top page. “This one is a great deal and is on sale. And there’s a newer software package that would work well for you. It would cut down a lot of time since it will track the deposits and payments after I set it all up.”

  “All right.” He cleared his throat and tapped the table. “Looks good.”

  I tilted my head. “Thanks,” I stated dryly.

  “You’re a hard worker,” he said grudgingly.

  “And you’re a hardhead. Period.” I sniffed and got out of the chair, going into the kitchen.

  With a low growl, he followed me. I spun on my heel, meeting his glare with one of my own.

  “What?”

  He crowded me against the counter. “I was paying you a compliment.”

  “You almost choked saying it. I promise I won’t get a swelled head if you say something nice and mean it, Maxx.”

  His expression softened, just a small thaw, but I saw it.

  “I did mean it,” he said. “I just don’t know how to do this, Charly.”

  I frowned.

  It was his turn. “What?”

  “You called me Red earlier. Just before you kissed me.”

  “You kissed me back.”

  “I like kissing you,” I whispered. “I like it when you call me Red.”

  He shook his head, even as he lowered his mouth closer to mine. “We can’t do this.”

  “I know,” I replied, aching to feel his mouth on mine again.

  His lips were right there. Barely a breath between us. All I had to do was tilt my chin and our mouths would connect.

  Except the screen door in the mudroom opened and a voice called out.

  “Maxx? You here?”

  Maxx stepped back so quickly, I almost fell. He gripped my arms, steadying me, then moved toward the mudroom. “Hey, Walt.”

  “You called about helping you with the car?”

  Maxx sighed, looking back over his shoulder at me, and he called for Rufus.

  Then walked away.

  I was too restless after Maxx walked out to stay in the house. I slid the casserole into the oven on low—Maxx could eat it whenever he wanted. Deciding I had worked long enough, I went for a walk, heading down the road. There was little traffic, the area quiet. I marveled at the sounds of nature, the sightings of birds and wild animals—things you never saw or heard in Toronto. I veered closer to the edge of the road as I heard a vehicle behind me, worried as I saw it pull up alongside me. A woman beamed at me from behind the wheel of a truck. Not as large as Maxx’s monster truck, but more manageable, I assumed. She was a small woman with a head of wild gray curls. She pushed up her sunglasses onto her head.

  “You must be Charlynn. The redheaded snippet.”

  There was no doubt she knew Maxx. He liked to call me that name. “I am,” I responded. “And you are?”

  She laughed. “The reason you’re dealing with grumpy Gus down the road. Are you running away from home, too, the way he did yesterday?”

  I felt a smirk pull on my lips. I knew he’d left to avoid me. “No, just out exploring.”

  “How about a glass of lemonade on my porch instead?”

  I paused.

  “I’m Mary,” she said, as if that explained everything. “Maxx is like an adopted son to me.” She slid on her sunglasses and peered over the top of them. “A difficult, ornery one most of the time these days.”

  Laughing, I stepped into the vehicle. “In that case, then yes, a glass of lemonade would be most welcome.”

  “Excellent.”

  I settled into the porch swing at Mary’s, a tall glass of lemonade in one hand and a cookie in the other. I munched happily, letting the swing move, enjoying the quiet and the vista until Mary came out, carrying a steaming cup of tea. She sat down on the chair and eyed me frankly.

  “You are nothing like the last one. Thank god for that.”

  I frowned. “Maxx’s last assistant?”

  She snorted, lifting her tea. “Sure, we can call that thieving backstabber an assistant. Usually, I simply refer to her as The Tramp.”

  I choked on my lemonade, trying not to laugh. “Yowsers.” Swallowing, I cleared my throat. “I take it you know Maxx well?”

  “Yes. His mother and I were great friends.”

  I was careful as I spoke. “I don’t know much about him, to be honest. I only started working for him yesterday.”

  She winked at me. “You certainly arrived with a bang, didn’t you?”

  I gaped at her. Then, seeing the amused look on her face, I began to giggle. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  She relaxed back in her chair. “I was the one who told Maxx to put an ad on that online site. I use it for lots of things—even hired kids to help out around here.” She sighed. “I told him to be specific. I had no idea how specific he was going to be.”

  “I thought he was an old curmudgeon,” I admitted. “But I was desperate.”

  “Did you know he thought you were a man?”

  “Yes, but as I said, desperate.”

  “What’s your story?”

  Normally, I would brush a question like that aside, or tell a humorous rendition, the way I did to Maxx on the Friday night. But something about this woman made me feel as if I could tell her the truth. So, I did. I told her about moving to Toronto. Losing my dad. The roommate from hell. The lecherous landlord. She guffawed loudly at my antics with Terry. Frowned over Trish. Patted my hand when I spoke about my dad.

  When I told her about the wallets and the money, she smiled. “Heaven looks after those in need, child. Your father was watching over you.”

  “I think so too.”

  “Did you tell Maxx all this?”

  “Some. I glossed over a few details.”

  She pursed her lips, not speaking for a moment. “You should tell him the whole story. The two of you have a lot in common.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “The, ah, Tramp?”

  “Yes. She did a number on him. She and that asswipe of a friend. Billy,” she spat his name. “I never liked him. He proved me right.”

  I nibbled another cookie. “I don’t think Maxx and I will get around to sharing our life stories, Mary. I don’t think he likes me that much.”

  Unless he was kissing me—then he seemed to like me a lot. But I refrained from adding that statement.

  She waved her hand. “He’s a good man. He was a good son, too—took care of his parents. He refused to allow his father to give him the shop, instead buying it. He knew they’d lost a lot of money, and he wanted them comfortable. He had no desire to live in that house, but he bought it too. Moved back from Lomand and took it over. Fixed it up nice, at least until that cow moved in and mucked it up.”

  I thought of the house. The differences in the various rooms. Some, like the kitchen and dining room, were warm and homey. Others, stark and out of place in the setting.

  “He’s been hurt and is cautious,” she added, taking another sip of tea.

  “And grumpy.”

  She agreed. “You’ve sent him into a tailspin, I’ll say that much. He doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.”

  “I just want t
o do a good job.”

  “Maxx was impressed by what you had done yesterday.”

  I told her about the invoices and Maxx getting annoyed over my bossiness. That made her laugh all over again.

  “Oh, child, you are going to be good for him. Stay strong. He needs that.”

  “What did that other woman do to him?”

  She shook her head. “That’s for him to decide if he wants to tell you. I hope that he will. I think it would help both of you.”

  I wasn’t sure Maxx would ever confide anything in me. He was too busy being grouchy all the time. Or telling me what to do. And, on occasion, that little voice reminded me, kissing me.

  I shook my head to stop that little voice.

  “Would you like to stay for supper? I have a pot roast in the oven. Maybe we can play cards after or something. I’ll drive you home later.”

  I hesitated then decided I would like that. I’d left Maxx his dinner. I had worked all day. It would be nice not to eat alone in my room again.

  “Sure.” I smiled at Mary. “I’d love that.”

  Mary’s pot roast was amazing, and I begged her for the recipe. It would make an easy dinner one night for Maxx. She opened a bottle of wine, and we ate on the porch, enjoying the nice evening. After, she brought out a deck of cards, and we played Fish and Crazy Eights, laughing and stealing cards like old friends. She was funny and witty. Sarcastic and sharp. I learned a few more things about Maxx, his parents, and his love of motorcycles. We ate cookies and drank tea as twilight descended.

  “His father was very old-fashioned. A real gentleman. He adored Maxx’s mother, and the two of them were a great couple. He believed in doing things the right way—even if they were outdated. He brought Maxx up the same way. In many ways, Maxx is just like his father.” She shook her head. “I’ve been trying to get up to update his systems and software. He resists because he understands the old ways. I think you’ll be good for him. Bring him into the twenty-first century.”

  I chuckled. “I’m going to try. He is certainly old-fashioned in some respects.”

  “Some things you will never be able to change.” She met my eyes, hers serious. “Some, I would hate to see go.”