Sold As Is

by Holley Trent

  He snapped his fingers in front of her face to jostle her back to attention. “You’ve got two weeks. You need to sell one-half of what Mike averages or you gotta go.”

  She stared at him without response for a moment while his words settled in. He was asking her to go from zero to sixty in one second flat. Scalding heat spread up from her pounding heart to her cheeks, rendering her a bit lightheaded. She was seeing stars, but didn’t know if they were from rage or the effects of her circulation. Without too much twitching, she forced her lips into her patented eat shit grin. “I understand, Archie.”

  He didn’t look like he believed it, but didn’t call her on her lack of sincerity. “Well, get to work, then.”

  “Yes. I’ll do that,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “’Preciate your cooperation. Send Frank in.”

  “Sure thing.” She took her time clearing out of the office. She uncrossed her legs slowly. Worked some imaginary wrinkles out of her dark skirt. Checked that her shirt was tucked in all around. And with a mere bob of her head toward Archie as acknowledgement, she stood and walked to the lounge with the all the speed of a turtle in stilettos.

  Once she’d cleared the threshold and was standing near the refreshment center — a mini fridge stocked with store-brand sodas and a shelf of stale cracker packs — she turned her arms around in their sockets like the blades of a windmill and did a silent scream that did nothing to diminish her desire to spew an articulate stream of profanity. “Grr!”

  Now even more enraged, she stomped across the worn carpet, threw open the storm door, and nearly tossed herself down the trailer’s concrete stairs into her stepbrother’s arms when the heel of her pump got caught on the aluminum threshold.

  Mike grabbed her by the shoulders right before her face smacked the ground.

  “Shit!” Now that she was safely upright, he stooped to rub his busted knee.

  She felt a surge of guilt for aggravating the thing. That knee was why he was working at that dump in the first place.

  He blew out a shuddering breath as he massaged his leg and asked, “What happened?” without looking up.

  She leaned over, put her hands on her knees, and concentrated on her own breathing. That fall had scared the shit out of her. What if that had been a customer? They would have sued Archie for everything including the shirt off his back. If she said anything, Archie would say, “Well, go get a hammer and fix it. Are you that dumb?”

  She found her breath. “Archduke Ass-uh … astronaut says if I don’t meet his arbitrary sales quota within two weeks I’m toast.”

  Mike grunted as he picked up his cane and forced himself erect. “Damn. Almost had you there. So, what’s the quota?”

  “I have to sell half as many cars in two weeks as you do.”

  “Great. Normally, I’d say it’d be a breeze for you to do half of the zero I feel like selling in the next two weeks, but I need cash. Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

  She sighed. “You’re sweet, Mike, but don’t worry about me. You’ve done enough for me the past couple of months, and I think I’m all out of favors. I’ll figure something out.”

  He narrowed intelligent green eyes at her and crossed his arms over his pinstriped dress shirt. When he spoke again his voice held a tinge of doubt. “Like what, Mandy? You’ve been applying to clothing stores for management jobs for three months and not a single one of them has extended an offer.”

  “Yeah, well.” She raked her fingers through her long bob and pulled her hair with a cavewoman grunt. “It’s the goddaaaaa-uh … dang! The dang references. They all want to know why I left Ermine’s, and I guess the story doesn’t work for them.”

  “God,” he whispered, carefully unclenching her fingers from her locks and holding her shaking hands in his. “Mandy, it’s okay. You’re all right. We’ll figure something out, okay?” He smiled that smile that made everything seem honky-dory, even when it wasn’t.

  She grinned and let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “Let’s get these cars unlocked. I’ll get the keys from the safe.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” With a sigh, she put up her hands and took steps toward the back lot. “Business as usual. Just let me get some sunscreen out of my glove compartment. Probably best for me to stay out of the trailer today.”

  “I agree,” he said to her retreating back.

  “Oh, Mike, by the way,” she called out, turning her head just before rounding the corner, but still walking. “Can you get my — ”

  She didn’t get the words out, because she plowed front-first into a tall, dark, and handsome column of a man originating from the other direction.

  CHAPTER 2

  “I’m sorry,” the dark-haired baritone said. He cringed to reveal perfectly straight white teeth and bent down with a hand extended to aid her up.

  Mandy rubbed her sore neck and gawked up at him from the ground her ass had smacked after he’d bumped her. She knew that face.

  “I was just looking for some help.” He hooked his thumb in the direction of the back lot when she didn’t take his hand. “I parked back there and was talking to your tow guy for a few minutes while he smoked. He told me to come back up to the trailer to get some sales help since your meeting was over. Please let me help you up. I don’t usually go around knocking pretty girls on their rears.”

  His voice was like molten lava: thick, deep and bearing a hint of a drawl that marked him a true native. Lord have mercy, he could read the McDonald’s dollar menu and sound like hot, dirty sex. She cleared her throat and blinked at him. God forbid he say anything scandalous or else she would probably melt into a little puddle there at his feet, just like all the other girls did. That was the problem: she didn’t want to be like all the other girls. Begging for crumbs of attention at a man’s feet had never been her style, and she wasn’t going to start then. Not even for that man, prize that he was.

  She put her hand in his when he offered it once more and allowed him to pull her gracefully up to her feet.

  “There you go.” He smiled and let his rough hand linger around hers, and she allowed it because she’d experienced a mental disconnect between what she’d expect and what reality turned out to be.

  The hands she figured would be soft and manicured were tipped with dirty fingernails and had calluses on the palms. Oh no, this wasn’t a man who spent entire days behind a desk. This was a man who created things. A man who didn’t just oversee a chore, but who actually engaged in it himself. A doer. A rebel?

  Holy Hell.

  Her head reeled. Everything she thought she knew about the governor’s son suddenly seemed questionable.

  She finally let go of his hand and took a few steps back, swiping dirt off her rear in the process. Somehow, she found her voice, although it came out sounding thick and choked. “Mr. Owen, what are you doing in Edenton?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and it didn’t take her long to figure out why. Even though shielded the mirrored lenses of his aviator sunglasses, it was obvious where his gaze was fixed.

  Great. Another letch.

  She looked down to ensure her headlights hadn’t been turned on, and instead discovered she’d lost a button sometime between their collision and the morning meeting.

  Damn it.

  She pulled the plackets of her shirt together at the neck and crossed her arms over her chest. The button must have bounced when she was flailing her arms around like a whirligig in the hospitality lounge.

  He grinned and she wanted to smack it off his gorgeous face. “I was in the area … ”

  Suddenly, Mike opened the storm door and hobbled down the stairs with the keys, whistling a jaunty little tune while he moved. His gaze flitted to her, and she shifted her weight nervously. She’d had a change of heart. Suddenly, being in the office with Archie see
med a lot less humiliating than bumbling repeatedly in front of the Adonis.

  “Well, I’ll be.” Mike had his hand extended to shake Aaron’s before he even reached the bottom stair. “Mike Leonard. I’m the son of the guy who owns this dump.”

  She thought her stomach was going to jump up through her throat and choke her to death. Mike was probably the most charming guy she knew, although his tactics sometimes frightened her. He managed to sell cars with leaking ceilings, missing carpet, and a host of other problems because he shot straight from the hip and never sold a family more than they could afford. If that meant a near-jalopy? Fine. As long as it passed state inspection.

  Archie wasn’t so discriminating. In his opinion, pretty was more important than functional. The cars were labeled ‘Sold As Is’ so whenever folks complained, he just threw his hands up and reminded them with a sneer: “Caveat emptor. You bought it, you keep it. Unless you stop paying for it, that is.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say dump.” Aaron pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head to reveal kind hazel eyes that wrinkled at the edges when he smiled.

  Oh, sweet fuck, he looks better in person.

  She ripped her gaze away and started to chew at the inside of her cheeks again as she pretended to study the nearby row of cars.

  “My charity expanded into this area six months ago. We’ve got a huge backlog of applicants I’m trying to assist before the end of the year. Got some grant money to use up.”

  “Didn’t want to check out the auctions?” Mike asked.

  “Usually do, but this is time-sensitive. I’ve got folks in the queue with jobs they can’t get to, and they all live in this county.”

  Mike shifted his cane to his other hand and scoffed. “So you’re gonna pay retail for convenience? Come on, man.”

  Aaron raised a hand to chest level and splayed his fingers. “Five cars. I think you could afford to cut me some slack. I’m not looking for high-end. I’ll gladly drive a couple cars off the lot that need some love as long as they’re mechanically sound.”

  Mike whistled low and gave Mandy’s ribs an indiscreet bump with his elbow. “Five cars, huh?”

  She rubbed her side and gave him a glower she hoped didn’t require translation.

  He was undeterred. “You do all the buying, Mr. Owen?”

  “Not anymore. When I first started Cars to Work I handled it all, but really, I’m a gearhead at heart. I’d rather be fixing cars than burnin’ up the roads trying to cut deals. My procurement workers do the bulk of the shopping now.” Aaron shifted his gaze away from Mike and cranked up the wattage on that crooked smile for Mandy’s benefit.

  She didn’t return it. So maybe he wasn’t as clean cut as she previously believed, but she knew his type. Playboy lothario so hung up on himself he thought the moon shone at night as a tribute to him. He was gorgeous. She’d give him that. However, gorgeous had never been enough for her. She needed substance, and that was why she tended to date guys like Frank who had quirks and dysfunctions, even if they weren’t pretty.

  He turned back to Mike. “Now that the organization has enough workers to cover almost every county, I don’t have to be everywhere at once. My team is strong and I’m trying to grow it so we can get more done.”

  “Oh yeah? Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about buying or selling cars?” Mike asked.

  Mandy hadn’t gotten that feeling at all, but Aaron shrugged. “You’re right. I’ve become pretty brazen about headhunting people to work for CTW. I steal people who know cars. The auto part stores don’t like me very much nowadays.”

  Mike and Mandy shared a look.

  Aaron pushed his sunglasses back onto his nose and shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Anyhow, first things first. We can discuss my corporate structure in detail later if you’re so inclined, but I need to buy cars right now. What can you show me that doesn’t already have one tire in the grave?”

  • • •

  Aaron tried to stay out of the way while the staff of A-1 Autos worked themselves up into a froth. He’d hoped just once for a quiet transaction, but the moment Archie had come to the door to chastise Mike and Mandy for standing around, things turned frantic. Suddenly half the staff materialized from out of the blue to unlock car doors and prop up hoods.

  “Mandy! Don’t just stand there in the way. That pick-up that came in yesterday needs its wheels cleaned. Get on it. Michael! Get the man a drink. Would you like something to drink, Mr. Owen?”

  Aaron watched the terse brunette turn on her heel and click-clack away toward the back lot, mumbling under her breath as she retreated.

  Little hellcat.

  He chuckled. What she was lacking in size, she made for in curves: pert breasts, narrow waist, and a round bottom that strained against the back of her pencil skirt. In the back of his mind, he had a slight awareness of Archie on the trailer steps running his mouth, but the voice was like a gnat buzzing in is ear. Inconsequential. Hardly important. Now, the sound of Mandy’s clicking heels against the asphalt and the movement of her ass when she walked? Those rated attention.

  When she finally rounded the corner, he tuned back in to the theatrics orchestrated by Archie. The lot owner was looking right at him, waiting for a response.

  Shit. What did he ask? Aaron slipped a hand into a pocket of his shorts and wrapped his fingers around the ink pen inside, squeezing it as he sorted his thoughts. Oh, yeah. A drink.

  “No, thank you for asking, though. I’m actually in a bit of a hurry. Got a staff meeting in Durham at two, so if it’s all right with you, I’ll just take a look around and see if there’s anything that pops out at me.” Other than Mandy, he meant.

  “Sure, sure! Why don’t you let my Mike show you around? He knows everything about everything. He wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

  Aaron couldn’t be completely sure, but he thought he caught a glimpse of Mike rolling his eyes behind his father’s back. Aaron studied the ginger’s face for a moment, waiting for him to meet his eyes, and when he did his beyond the slight twitching of his jaw hinges, his expression was blank.

  What the Hell kind of family business is this?

  “So, how ’bout it?” Archie pressed.

  Aaron pushed his suspicions aside for the moment. He was probably just being overly paranoid as usual. He couldn’t help it, growing up the way he had.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Fine.”

  As Archie returned to his inner sanctum to do whatever Archie did, Mike limped over and grabbed Aaron by the elbow with his free hand. “Come on,” he said, nudging him in the opposite direction from Archie’s open window. Once sufficiently out of Archie’s auditory range, Mike blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes.

  “Look, let me be candid. There are only two or three cars here I’m confident enough in to sell to you. The rest are jalopies, junkers, or have weird smells. Some are barely roadworthy. We have a guy on staff that keeps them running well enough to get off the lot, but beyond that … ” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

  “Hmm.” Aaron leaned against the trailer wall and twirled his pen between his fingers. That mechanic sounded like someone he needed to meet. He’d been recruiting guys and girls away from thirty-dollar oil change shops, and they’d been hit or miss for what he needed. Mostly miss. CTW’s lead mechanic Eleanor had been his greatest coup, and boy did her daddy hate him for snatching her out of their shop. He still got threatening phone calls from the guy weekly.

  Mike bent at the waist and massaged his right knee. “They’re going to take me out back and shoot me at the rate I’m falling apart.”

  Aaron chuckled. Mike wasn’t the fox in the skirt he’d made a U-turn to transact with, but he seemed like a nice guy. He’d hire him in a New York minute, if only for the secretaries back in CTW’s Durham headquarters. They were running short on eye-c
andy. At least, that’s what they told him every time he dropped by the office to pick up files or check messages. “Aaron, I know you want folks who can put engines together with their eyes closed, but could you at least hire one who’d be nice to wake up next to? Just one?” his secretary Jasmine had whined. He hadn’t known how to respond. He’d merely scratched his head and left.

  “Good to know about the cars upfront,” he said, watching Mike grip the handle of his cane with a renewed cringe as he stood. “But why are you telling me? Seems like a conflict of interest.”

  Mike shrugged. “I give everyone who steps foot onto this lot the same lecture. I abide by the ‘do unto others’ rule ’cause I need to be able to sleep at night. So, there you go — the Mikey L. guarantee.” He held up his hand in a scout’s honor gesture. “If you want someone who really shoots from the hip, though, talk to Mandy. She’s not going to try to sell you anything.”

  Aaron shook his head, not understanding his point. “And that’s good, how?”

  Mike grinned. “You know cars.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “And she doesn’t.”

  “Ah.”

  Honest and knowledgeable. I wonder how much he’d expect me to pay him.

  He reached into his pocket for his wallet, intending to hand Mike his business card, but before he could sort through the pile of unsorted receipts he’d stuffed into the thing, Mandy hobbled past. She was struggling with a bucket full of sudsy water and clamping a scrub brush between her white teeth. He could just barely make out the not-quite-swear words she was mumbling under her breath. They were vicious enough she might as well had gone all the way. He looked to Mike for explanation.

  Mike laughed and shook his head. “She’s got a bad habit of using curse words to replace most nouns, adjectives, and adverbs in a sentence. I made a bet with her last week she couldn’t go without cursing for two weeks.”

  “Ah. I would have lost that bet on the first day. Well, what do you get if she slips up?”