by Emma Hart
I barely resisted rolling my eyes. Instead, I decided to fold up my taco and shove it in my mouth in a very unladylike way.
But, hey, was there a ladylike way to eat tacos?
I hadn’t found it yet.
Dex raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything, deciding to eat his own lunch. I couldn’t say I wasn’t glad about it, but I wasn’t ready for the deep groan that escaped him when he was halfway through the taco.
“This is a good taco,” he said with a mouthful of food.
I hid my smile behind my hand since I, too, had a mouth full of food.
After that, neither of us said a word. It was weird, since there hadn’t yet been a time—in the staggering number of days we’d worked together—that we’d been quiet, really. Certainly not like this. We’d basically bickered our way through work to this point.
Hell, we’d bickered our way through the entire day so far. It was like we didn’t know how to do anything but, and I was okay with it. If bickering with him meant I got to win this stupid thing in the end, I’d take it.
A part of me wanted to make a quip about that, but the rest of me was, well, hungry.
And quite enjoying sitting here without either of us fighting.
Huh.
I had to eat quicker. Hunger was addling my brain.
***
The next morning rolled around too quickly. After lunch yesterday, Dex and I had settled into being almost friendly with each other. I doubted it’d stay the same today, and a part of me was happy about that.
Being nice to each other was weird.
Like…I didn’t know how not to snark at him, and I think I’d gone an entire hour without doing it yesterday.
My mom had insisted that was called being an adult. I told her to come and meet Dex and see how ‘adult’ she expected me to be.
As it was, this morning, I pulled into the parking lot next to his technologically behind truck and got out. It wasn’t likely that I’d be able to keep up being nice to him today, but I was willing to try.
Maybe.
It depended on what kind of mood he was in.
I grabbed my purse and walked toward the garage. The doors were open, and there was a strange, high-pitched sound that was either a cat dying, or Dex whistling.
I had to vote on the cat.
Dex didn’t whistle. Did he?
My steps faltered. I wasn’t a big fan of dying cats or whistling. But, I had to admit I was intrigued. What the hell was he whistling for? And was he whistling Singing in the Rain?
That had to be the most random thing ever.
I slowly walked under the big doors, dipping my head so I didn’t hit them. My sneakers squeaked against the floor, but Dex didn’t turned around once. He had a car jacked right up onto axle stands and was lying on the floor under it, something that made the whistles echo off the cold floor.
I put my purse on the coffee table and moved to get a coffee. Shoving my mug under it, I pressed the button and the machine whirred to life, spitting the dark liquid into my “Before coffee, you fucoffee” mug.
Dex’s whistling reached me here, especially when the coffee machine was done. I couldn’t help the quirk of my lips as I finished making my drink and turned back toward the garage.
He had no idea I was here.
I leaned against the doorframe and pulled the strap of my denim dungaree shorts up over my shoulder. From where I stood, I had an almost perfect view of Dex.
Of the way his arm muscles flexed as he worked on the underside of the car.
I sipped my coffee. It was easier to swallow that than the little lump that was forming in my throat at the sight of him working.
Freaking hell. The car was up high enough that I could see his entire body. His uniformed shirt of a light-colored tank top had ridden up his body, allowing me a sneaky peek at the tight packs of muscle on his stomach. A smudge of grease ran along his hipbone and over the waistband of his light-blue, jean shorts.
My God, what was I doing? Why was I staring all over him like he was a chocolate cake? Was my next move to grab a knife and slice into him?
I shook my head and averted my eyes from him. There was nothing good that would come from staring at him. The only thing that would happen would be an awkward increase in how much I was attracted to him.
Why couldn’t he be ugly?
Why were the assholes all hot?
Had I done something terrible in a past life?
I sighed into my mug. My gaze found its way back to him. He reached out one arm, and as he patted around the floor for a tool, his arm flipped this way and that, revealing thick veins running down his forearm.
Sweet baby Jesus.
I drained the rest of my coffee, ignoring how hot it was, and refilled the cup. I’d woken up with barely any time to get dressed and braid my hair, so the lack of coffee had to be why I was suddenly turning into a googly-eyed idiot.
That, and I was most definitely an arm girl before anything else.
Hmm… I wondered if duct-taping his mouth would take the asshole out of him?
I shook my head and stirred the cream into my coffee. I definitely needed more caffeine. Next up: some sense knocked into me.
Moving back into the garage, I saw that Dex was still feeling around on the floor for something.
“You know,” I said, walking over to where he was working, “if you actually looked for what you wanted instead of blinding flailing around, you might have some success.”
“When did you get here?”
I crouched down and peered under the car. “Sometime between the cat dying and the seagulls protesting.”
“Funny. Can you get me the next size down for whatever this one is?” He waved a wrench at me.
I took it from him and checked the size, then did the same to the tools on the floor. “There’s a reason you can’t find it.” I put my coffee down and went to the toolbox where they all were. “You didn’t get it out.”
“Fuck it.”
“Here.” I bent back down and handed it to him. “What are you doing?”
“Replacing the transmission. Woman said she was coming down a country road at the speed limit and there was a blind dip. Bunch of scaffolding planks in the road and she hit them at full speed.” He shook his head. “She stopped and got the company’s name, but it’s fucked her gearbox, her suspension, her wheel arches…It won’t be cheap.”
“Is she sending them the bill?”
“No. I told her I can’t do the work without payment because of the cost of parts. She’s paying for it, then making a claim to the company.”
“Well, that sucks.” I sat on a stack of breeze blocks, nursing my cup. “Hey, hasn’t this been out in the lot for a few days?”
Dex nodded and removed the transmission mount. I leaned forward and took it from him, placing it out of his way. There was a huge crack in it.
She must have really hit those planks.
“Thanks,” he said. “Yeah, it has been. She brought it in last week to get it checked over just in case of damage. She wasn’t happy she had to leave it.”
I wouldn’t be either. “What did her insurance company say?”
“They leased her a car, but it took them two days. That’s what she told me when I called and told her the parts had arrived.”
“Oh, there was a delivery?”
“No wiper blades. Or wipers, for that matter. Don’t get your hopes up. I think I’ll just call Carmella and start getting them to supply the damn things.”
I snorted. “Don’t get your hopes up. Carmella is only there when she loses a bet with her family. Jack will be happy to do it though.”
He glanced at me, the safety glasses dulling his eyes a little. “I only said Carmella because I thought she worked there.”
“Sure you did.” I rolled my eyes. “Is there anything else booked in today?”
“Nope.” He shot me a devilish smile. “Which means you get to be my glamorous assistant for the day.”
I looked down at my clothes. “I’m not exactly Jessica Rabbit over here. My bra might even have an oil stain on. Not so glamorous.”
“Might have? Do you need to check?”
“I doubt I care about finding out half as much as you do, Romeo.”
Dex laughed. “Worth a try. The idea I might break you down one day is entertaining.”
“To you, perhaps.”
He turned to face me with a smirk twisting his lips. “Could you do me a favor and get me a drink? I’ve been under here forever.”
“When you said assistant, I didn’t think you meant slave,” I said as I got up and walked to the staff area.
“I didn’t. And if I did mean slave, running around and doing my bidding isn’t the one I’d have in mind!”
I took a deep breath as I poured him water from the filter in the fridge.
What? He didn’t specify what he wanted to drink.
I took it back out and crouched again, this time at the front of the car. “Here. Your drink.”
He slid out from under it, bringing himself to a stop when he saw what I was holding. “I was about to say that was the quickest anyone’s ever made me a coffee, but instead I’m going to say: well played, darlin’. Well played.”
I smiled as he sat up and took the glass.
“You know,” he said when I stood up, “With that outfit and those braids, all you need is a pair of long socks, and you could be Pippy Long Stocking.”
“You know,” I said, grabbing my coffee and hitting him with a death glare. “All I’d need is a pair of long socks and you to sit still long enough to make you choke on those words.”
A rasping laugh came from the doorway. I turned to see an older man, presumably in his seventies, standing there, using a walking stick to keep himself upright. His trousers were perfectly pressed, his shoes perfectly shined, and his tan-brown cardigan covered a white-shirt that looked creaseless from where I was standing.
And he bore a very strong resemblance to the man I’d just threatened to choke with a pair of socks.
“You told me she was mouthy,” he chuckled, “But you didn’t tell me she was owning your ass every time she spoke! No wonder you didn’t want to hire her.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and looked at Dex for an explanation.
He looked like he’d just walked into the set of a horror movie.
Chapter Eleven – Dex
I was an idiot for thinking that my grandpa would never meet Jamie. It’d been wishful thinking—them meeting was the last thing I needed. They would, no doubt, become firm friends.
As his reaction to her had already proven.
What had I done to deserve this hell?
“Pops, this is Jamie. Jamie, this is my grandfather.” I waved a hand between them and chugged my water.
Pops glared at me. “Is that how you’re gonna introduce me to this lovely young lady? I don’t know where I went wrong with you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he’d already hobbled across the garage to where Jamie was standing and had taken her hand.
“Edwin Ryne,” he introduced him, kissing the back of her hand. She blushed. “This uncouth little bastard’s grandfather. And you must be the young lady who’s got his balls in a twist.”
“I’m not listening to this.” I got up and walked away, into the staff area. Why couldn’t I have a nice, normal grandfather who was sweet and kind? No wonder I was an asshole. It ran in the damn family.
“That’s me,” Jamie said, far too happily. “Jamie Bell. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
She was so fucking polite. To everyone but me.
“Bell? You wouldn’t happen to be related to Simon Bell, would you?”
“Yes, sir. That’s my father.”
“Would it be remiss of me to welcome you back?”
Jamie laughed softly. “Thank you. It’s a little strange.”
“No thanks to my grandson, I’d assume.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me!” I shouted.
“Nothing right, either!” Pops hollered back. “What are you hiding for? Get your ass out here. And bring me a coffee while you’re at it.”
I rubbed my forehead which quickly moved into me pinching my nose. I took his ornery manner at home—did I have to take this shit at work now, too?
I made the damn coffee and rejoined them. “I was putting my glass in the sink,” I replied, ignoring Jamie’s smile. “What’s up, Pops?”
He rested his mug on his stick. “What are you doing?”
I told him the same story I’d just told Jamie.
He peered over. “That it? Got nothing for Jamie to do?”
“I’m his assistant,” she said dryly. “Which translates to getting him water when he fails to specify what drink he wants.”
Pops chuckled. “I like her.”
“That’s a theme in this family,” I muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Why don’t you let Jamie do that?” Pops waved at the car.
Oh, Jesus.
“Because I was here first and got started.”
“She can finish it.”
“Pops…”
“She’s got nothing to do.”
“I’m sure the phone will ring soon,” she said chirpily. “And if it doesn’t, he’s paying me to basically do nothing, so the joke is on him.”
I fucking hated it when she turned shit around so I lost.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Jamie grinned, licked her finger, and painted a line in the air like she had the last time she’d outsmarted me.
Two-nil to her.
Three if you counted the tacos, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of that.
Another chuckle escaped Pops. “I really like her.”
I pinched my nose again. “Pops. Are you here for a reason other than to embarrass me a little?”
“I embarrass you, huh?” He waggled his gray eyebrows.
“Pops.”
He sniffed, sipped his coffee, and said, “It’s your aunt’s birthday this weekend.”
“I’m aware,” I said, leaning against the worktop side. “She’s left notes on the bathroom mirror every day for the last two weeks with present ideas. This morning, she requested a Ferrari. She can’t even drive anymore.”
“Yes… She’s working hard on that. She asked Roxanne for a hoverboard this morning.” Pops paused. “I think she’s taking the piss.”
“You think?” I said dryly.
“She told me to ensure you both have a date.”
I stilled. Nope. That was not happening. I didn’t know anyone here well enough except for—
No, fucking hell, no.
Jamie did not need to meet Greta. That would complete my circle of shame, because there’s no doubt they’d get on like a house on fire.
And I didn’t need any of my interactions with Jamie described as a fucking date.
Hell, torture, self-loathing—they worked.
A date?
Fuck no.
“I don’t know anyone well enough,” I half-lied. “Tell her she’ll have to wait until next year.”
“You said that last year,” Pops pointed out.
“Then we moved.”
“Greta won’t care.”
“I don’t care,” I said, shaking my head. “Not happening.”
Jamie scooted past behind him, carrying her empty mug.
“Jamie! What are you doing this weekend?”
She froze.
“Pops. Don’t even think about it!”
“Is your name Jamie, boy? I think not. Jamie?” Pops said, turning to her. “Do you have plans this Saturday?”
“I, er, um.” She slowly turned, her eyes wide. “I don’t—I’m not sure.”
Pops brightened. “Would you like some?”
“Oh fuckin’ hell.” I lifted the hem of my t-shirt and covered my face with it.
“I don’t�
��uh…”
“Excellent! Dex will pick you up at seven o’clock on Saturday evening. My sister will love you.”
“I, er…”
Oh, fucking hell. Fuck, fuck, fucking hell.
This day had started out so well.
“I’ll see you for dinner, Dex.” Pops hobbled out of the garage. “See you on Saturday, Jamie!”
“Uh…”
When the clicking of his stick had disappeared, I dropped my t-shirt and looked around the garage. Pops had disappeared.
Jamie, however, hadn’t. She hadn’t even moved. She was still standing in the exact place she had been when Pops had corralled her into coming to the party, but now, she was staring after him with her eyes wide and her lips parted.
Sensing my eyes on her, she turned to face me. “What—what just happened?”
“My grandfather just set us up on a date,” I said tightly.
“Oh no,” she breathed. “I think I need a lie down.”
That was one way to describe this feeling.
***
“Why would you do this?” I asked, slamming the front door behind me. “Pops!”
“He can’t hear you, dear,” Aunt Greta called from the kitchen. “He took out his hearing aid because he knew you’d be mad.”
“Mad? I’m fucking furious!”
“I’ll spray soap in your mouth, boy.”
I ground my teeth together and walked into the front room where I knew I’d find him sitting in front of the TV. Must have been fucking interesting if he didn’t have the damn hearing aids in.
Just as I’d thought, he was sitting there, feet up on the coffee table, completely oblivious to me. Hell, the damn TV was on silent. He was clearly sitting there for no reason other than to annoy me further.
I snatched the hearing aids from their tray on top of the fireplace and shoved them in front of his face. “Put them on.”
He pushed my hand away.
I dropped them on his lap.
He looked up.
“Put. Them. On!” I over-exaggerated my words so he could read my lips. Something I knew he could do, because long before he’d accepted he was going deaf, he’d communicated solely through lip-reading.
