by Loren
Lady Parts
Book 1
Loren
Copyright © 2018 by Loren
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission by the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for reviewing purposes.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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About the Book
Liam Thompson is in desperate need of Lady Parts—the car shop, that is. The last thing he expects is the way his heart revs when meets the lead mechanic, Gene.
Gene Stewart has made a lot of bad decisions. When a sexy car pulls into her shop with an even sexier man behind the wheel, she knows she shouldn't take him for a test drive.
This stranger seems to have all the right tools to shift her ice cold heart back into gear, but with her losing track record, she doesn’t know who to trust... herself or Liam?
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Bonus
Chapter 1
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Loren
1
Gene reached the garage entrance just as the car, a beautiful Lexus, pulled in. She already knew his type. Even though she hated when people made assumptions about her, that kind of car told her a lot of things, one of which was that the likelihood of him being a prick and entitled was very high. The man unfolded himself from his car in one long black line, and Gene felt her stomach tighten. His car was a fine specimen but, holy hell, the man who was driving it was a work of art.
At once, Gene was all too aware of her baggy overalls and tight T-shirt, and the oil that stained her hands. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter but appearances did. Her only consolation was getting dirty came with the job and she was better than good at it.
He was a vision of olive tone skin, chiseled features, a hard jaw, and an even harder body. How did the man earn a living if he lived in the gym? He wasn’t bulky, but those kinds of muscles were sculpted by intense physical activity. Gene wanted to guess swimming or a cardio mix but either way, she was struck dumb as he walked towards her. Up close, she could see his eyes were green, and she smiled.
“I’m in a rush. Get the mechanic for me so I can explain the noise to him,” he said, wiping the smile right off her face.
Her professionalism was already halfway out the window with her drooling over his body in her mind, but now it was completely gone. Gene opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.
“I know the drill. I’ll fill out the paperwork as soon as I talk to him but as I said I’m in a rush. Can you just go get him? I’m looking for Gene.”
Gene turned on her heels in a huff and walked deeper into the garage, passing the two technicians and two mechanics who were working. They watched her out the side of their eyes in silence knowing it was best to be quiet. This wasn’t the first time someone had made the same assumption. They could tell by her face this was going to get ugly. She walked through the side door that led into the main office and turned to the glass to make sure the Sexy Sexist could see her as she walked through the small reception area, to the door on the other side, out the front entrance, and back to him.
“What—” he said, but she cut him off with a raised hand.
“Now, as I was about to say before you opened your mouth. My name is Gene Stewart. I am the owner and the lead mechanic. Now, what can I do for you today?”
Gene didn’t care how rude she was being. The look on his face was worth it.
“Excuse me?” She wasn’t sure if he was excusing his behavior or asking for clarification but it sounded like he was offended. It wasn’t going to get any better from here.
“Hmm, so sexist and slow.” She leaned closer and said slowly, “I. Am. The. Mechanic.”
“But...”
“But what?” she said, leaning back and putting her hands on her hips. “But women can’t be mechanics? The various ASE certifications on my wall say differently. Were you hoping for something different? Was the sign ‘Lady Parts’ somehow obscure?”
Gene loved her sign. It was the cleverest name she could think of. The logo was the outline of a woman leaning back with hair down her back. The arch in her back and the definition of her curvy bosom was nothing like Gene and yet so unapologetically feminine, she had to have it. She kept seeing the image as a sticker on truck driver’s windows, and after finding out the image wasn’t trademarked, she decided to use it for herself. The marketing practically ran itself.
He opened his mouth then closed it.
She couldn’t help herself from adding, “What? Cat got your tongue now?”
It was such a shame because he was so pretty to look at.
“Well while you’re standing there looking dumbfounded, please hand me your keys so I can hear the noise unless you want to take it somewhere else. Which I would tell you is a mistake because no one within a twenty-five-mile radius of Charlotte is a master mechanic like me or has the resources to get your car in and out in a day. Depending on what the problem is, I can get it to you within the hour.”
The ball was in his court, and she was hoping he stayed just so she could prove him wrong again. Hell yes, she was a mechanic and a damn good one, and she wanted to fix his car to prove it.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the keys, and walked towards the car.
So that was how he was going to play it. She could tolerate walking away with his tail between his legs. That was apology enough.
He looked over his shoulder with an intense stare. “Are you coming or what? You can only hear it inside the car.”
So, he had heart. She liked bravery. That look in his eyes told her he wasn’t used to being told off and she was glad because knowing her, she would do it again soon.
Gene had been in business for almost a little over one year. You would think with time she would have learned to stop getting riled up when men assumed her apprentice was the mechanic or that somehow having boobs meant she couldn’t know her way around a car or run a business. But she hadn’t and didn’t imagine she’d stop getting riled up anytime soon. It was in her blood. She was a fighter, and she planned to keep sticking it to whoever was dumb enough to believe she couldn’t be better than a male mechanic. Every. Single. Time.
A simple Google search of car repair let anyone know that Lady Parts was open every day except Sundays and a perusal of the testimonials and reviews revealed the shop was run by a woman and that she always did good work. She was proud of her 4.8 star rating.
She followed him around the car and stood while he slipped into the front seat.
“How long has it been making the noise?” she asked as he pushed the engine to start.
“A few days,” he said and turned down the music.
If her panties
weren’t still in a bunch, she would have complimented him on his music taste. She’d have never guessed he was listening to Ludacris. She would have said he was a country boy through and through.
“Just off the sound alone, I’d say it’s exhaust issues. If you want, I’ll put her up and look at her right now,” Gene said, wanting to get right to business. They were busy but only one of the car lifts was occupied.
“That would be great,” he said. He left the car running as he climbed out.
“Do you mind?” she asked. It was always polite to ask even though he had to know she had to drive it in. “I promise I’m clean, but I can put a towel down or something if you’re worried.”
She had rubbed her hands clean before coming out but the grease stains didn’t come out without several scrub rounds of soap and bleach. Some people were real finicky when it came to luxury cars, and her clothes were covered in grease. At least her front half was.
“No. You’re fine,” he said. “Go ahead.”
Gene nodded, climbing into the car. The leather hugged her curves, and for the millionth time, she wondered why she didn’t splurge on a car like this. The reason why came to mind and went just as quickly.
“Please go into the reception area. Thomas will give you the new customer paperwork,” she said and closed the door.
She sure did have a male receptionist. Lady Parts respected all genders. It was equality all around for everyone.
Once in the carport, Gene climbed out and did what she did best. She lost herself in the way of the automobile. It was routine for her. To her, a car was like a puzzle she was dying to put together or some deep metaphor like that. She liked taking them apart and putting them back together. She liked figuring out what made cars tick, their small nuisances, and the way they sounded when they had regular oil changes.
It didn’t take her long to put the Sexy Sexist’s car on the lift to give it a check-up, starting with its engine: checking for oil or transmission leaks, loose or missing bolts, and looking for wear and tear on any belts. She examined the electrical system, including brakes, taillights, headlights, and any onboard warning systems. She didn’t rush through routine checkups, which took time, no matter how good she was but she knew Thomas would tell the client that and offer him car services if he needed to be somewhere urgently. She worked harder and faster than most, but she wasn’t superhuman.
Almost forty minutes later, she climbed out of the car and walked around to the office where the man was waiting, frowning down at his phone.
“Hey, you need to replace your catalytic converter.”
He sighed but nodded. “Okay. How much?”
“Three hundred for the parts, two hundred for the labor,” she said, walking around the desk. Thomas handed her the clipboard as she wiped her brow with a rare white rag and she saw his name for the first time. Liam Thompson.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
She glanced up from the paperwork to see his face had turned red. She wasn’t sure why customers were always surprised by the cost. Parts were expensive and one hundred dollars an hour was an industry standard rate.
“Yes. I’m serious. You think I’m robbing you? Google the parts. Alone it’s four hundred dollars, not including insertion labor or the inspection, but I’m giving you a deal because I already have the part in stock. You said you were in a rush and I told you I could get you in and out of here in an hour. I’m trying to do that but I’m not going to cut corners or skip routine checkups. They have to be done. If you want to call around or take your business to someone else, feel free. Just let me know so I can bring your car down.” She made quick strides towards his car. She wasn’t holding him hostage.
“Gene,” he said, catching her just before the door closed behind her as she went into the garage.
“Yeah?” She held her hand up, preventing the door from closing all the way.
“You can install it,” he said, relaxing back into the chair.
“Okay. Should be an hour,” she said over her shoulder and walked out to handle her business.
She might not know how to handle customers, especially fine ones with mouths that should stay shut, but she knew her way around the inside of a car.
2
The sky opened up and poured. It was dumping buckets, and Gene was just fine with that. She liked the sound of rain. She hummed to herself, more out of habit than to actually hear herself sing because the rain was so loud. She was baking lasagna from scratch with a little help from Mrs. Stouffer’s and, by the smell, it was almost ready. The day had been long and productive, but Gene was ecstatic to be home, alone, freshly showered and in her comfy clothes.
She was just thinking how great it would be to sit down for dinner as she pulled the lasagna out of the oven when the lights flickered and went out.
“Great,” she mumbled, the sound lost to the rain as she rummaged through her drawers for tap lights to put in each room and candles for the kitchen table. She lit them, brought the pan to the table along with her plate.
Gene was a southern-bred woman through and through. Even though her mother wasn’t around to harp on the proper dinner setting and the sad state of eating alone, she never ate on paper plates or out of the dish she was cooking in. Even though she was alone and no one would know but her, some things she just couldn’t program herself to forget.
She had just placed her napkin on her lap and was reaching to pull the aluminum foil back from her lasagna when someone pounded loudly on her front door. She froze, debating whether the sound was thunder or not because who would be knocking in this kind of weather? She didn’t have any friends in the area. The sound drummed again but this time followed with, “Is anybody in there? I could use some help.” These were the moments that made her regret having to park her car in the driveway but the house with the garage had been out of her budget.
Gene didn’t play around when it came to her safety. She had mace, a bat in her closet, and a knife she kept in her nightstand drawer, right beside her vibrator.
She grabbed her keychain and put her finger on the trigger of the mace as she stalked towards the door.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
“What do you want?” she yelled over the howling wind.
“What?” the man said on the other side of the door. “I can’t hear you. Can you open the door so we can talk? I promise I’m not some creep going to hurt you.”
Gene rolled her eyes, like she would believe that. What kind of person announced he was about to attack an innocent woman? In her twenty-eight years of living, the answer was none.
The darkness outside prevented her from seeing clearly through the peephole. Her second-best option was to keep the chain lock on and hope whoever was out there wasn’t the Hulk. She unlocked the deadbolt, cracking her door an inch.
“What—” She froze seeing who was on the other side of the door. “You!” she said as he squinted back at her.
“You,” he said, wiping water from his face. He was drenched. The front door had a little awning, but the rain was falling horizontally, so he had no way of staying dry. That didn’t make Gene open the door any faster though.
“What are you doing on my porch?” She put one hand on her hip, keeping her grip on her keychain with her other hand.
“Can we please have this conversation inside? I’m going to get sick if I stay out here any longer,” he said with big pleading eyes.
Gene doubted that since it was summer, but she undid the chain and held the door open for him. Her finger never left the trigger as he walked into her foyer. He stood there drenched, with clothes hugging every delicious slab of muscle on his body. Gene started with the fact that he was barefoot and his feet actually looked nice. He probably got regular pedicures.
Her eyes continued up to his grey sweatpants that told her everything she needed to know about his absent underwear and the white t-shirt that was currently transparent. His hair was slicked down, and his eyes were burning with intensity. She re
alized he was taking her in the same way she was taking him in. She was practically naked as well in her yoga pants and sports bra.
“Do you plan to use that or are you just happy to see me?” he said, looking at the small pink canister in her hand. She made no move to hide it or put it away.
“Why are you in my house right now, Liam?” she said, remembering his name from the paperwork. Who could forget the name that went with that face?
“Would you believe that I’m your next-door neighbor?” he said with a childish grin.
She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen the moving truck that pulled up about a month ago. She noticed the men hadn’t moved in too much furniture. They were in and out in about an hour, and she may or may not have been watching, trying to get a glimpse of who might be her new neighbor.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she said, throwing her hands up.
“Nope. It’s true. I moved in last month, but the house needed a lot of repairs so I only really started living there this week.”
That would explain a lot. “It still doesn’t explain why you are currently in my house. Why did you knock on my door?”
“I was hoping I could borrow some candles,” he said wiping the rivets of water sliding from his hairline and down his face.
“You couldn’t, I don’t know, be like a normal person and drive to the store?” She tried to sound annoyed. She really wasn’t sure how she felt about him being there.
“I could but have you seen the storm out there? I don’t think it would be safe.” Of course he had good logical thinking behind his decision.
