Under The Hood

by Juanita Kees

  He shrugged. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Yes, you can say no.” She pulled off her gloves and shoved them into his chest, leaving him no option but to close his hands around them. Her patience was running out fast. TJ pushed past him. “Marty! You still got my keys?”

  “Yep!”

  “Toolbox key is the third one in. Go inside and pack up my tools, please.”

  “Say what, TJ?” Marty stopped dead in the task of dropping Sheila’s bonnet back into place.

  “I don’t work here anymore. Tony, can you please drop off my toolbox on your way home tonight?” TJ patted Marty on the back. “Tony will take care of you, Marty.”

  “Sure, TJ, but—” Marty started.

  “It’s okay, Marty. You’ve got my number. Call me when you need to.”

  Marty dropped the bonnet a little harder than necessary and stormed off into the shop, his shoulders rigid as he swore under his breath.

  “That’ll be 20c in the swear jar, Marty! Tony?” TJ prompted.

  Tony shot Scott Devin a look of pure contempt before answering. “Sure, TJ. Drop off the toolbox, take care of Marty and Sheila.”

  “Back to work then. You’ve got a shop to run.”

  He aimed another killer look at the new boss before he complied.

  TJ pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket and dialled.

  Silence hung heavily as she waited for an answer. She couldn’t resist a look at Scott. He held her gaze until she looked away.

  “Rob! I need a lift home …Yes, now. … Okay. I’ll explain when you get here.” She punched the ‘end call’ button hard. “Right, I’ll just get dressed and then I’ll be out of your hair,” she said to Scott.

  “You do that, Tiger,” he answered as she walked away.

  Chapter Two

  “Why is that damn car still here?” Scott asked Tony later the next day. Sheila stood outside on the drive where she’d come to a halt the day before. “I thought she was being towed.” The cost to tow the car would be more than it was worth. He realised he was starting to feel sympathetic. It was all TJ’s fault. He’d spent a restless night wondering if he’d made a mistake by firing her. The image of her and her car had kept him awake long after his forgotten beer was warm. That wasn’t a good sign.

  Tony eyed Scott coldly. “I’ve got a truck coming tonight. Still need to drop off TJ’s toolbox.” Despite the team’s best efforts, the workshop had not run smoothly without TJ. They’d worked long past knock-off time to get the workload out. “Late night last night.”

  “Yes, I know. You handled it well,” Scott said. After a long, awkward pause he asked, “Something else you want to say, Tony?”

  “We’d have handled it better with TJ in charge.”

  “And?”

  Tony hesitated. How far would he push it? Scott Devin had shown he was a hard nut; but without TJ at the helm, things could go very wrong, so he went for broke. “I think you made a mistake firing her. TJ would never do anything to put anyone in danger. She’s the first one in and last one to go when Sheila’s not playing up.”

  “Does she play up often?”

  Tony hesitated again, not sure whether he meant TJ or Sheila. “Not usually. It’s been a bad week.”

  “Right. Does the rest of the team share your opinion?”

  Tony shrugged. “Some of the boys are talking about quitting. Most of them are still here for one reason only. There’s a lot about TJ you don’t know.”

  “Care to enlighten me?”

  How much could he say without betraying confidences? “Are you serious about turning this place around?” Tony asked instead.

  “I’m a businessman, Tony. I wouldn’t have invested in it if I wasn’t.”

  “Then you need to understand that this isn’t just another business. It may not be turning over a huge profit, but sometimes there’s more to it than money. TJ has worked hard to keep this place together. She’s not the one responsible for the lack of profit.” Tony dug a key out of his pocket and dangled it by the metal ring. “If you want to know more, ask the right questions and get answers from the right people. Take her toolbox back to her yourself.”

  Scott held out his palm to catch the key as it dropped. He looked at it lying face up in his hand before squeezing it in a fist. “I might just do that.”

  Tony turned and walked towards the workshop. He stopped when Scott said, “Tony, I appreciate honesty. You can tell the team I’ll talk to TJ.”

  Even at the height of the nastiest takeover bid, he’d never been made to feel like such a mean bastard. Had he got it so wrong?

  The cold weight of the key in his palm reminded him of TJ’s banged up car. Scott walked out to where Sheila stood silent, lifeless in the sun. He opened the driver’s door and slid inside.

  The contents of the glove box had spilled all over the passenger side floor. TJ had rifled through it before leaving the day before. The lock on the glove box must have broken when she’d slammed it shut. It was the only indication of a temper she’d kept tightly controlled. He admired that.

  He leaned over to scoop up the bits and pieces, making a mental note to place them in a bag and return them to TJ. As he dropped them on the seat, a photograph caught his eye. In it, TJ stood with two men between an old FJ Holden Utility and Sheila. His eyes came to rest on TJ. Scott felt his stomach muscles contract sharply. She really was beautiful. Titian hair glinted in the sunlight and surrounded a heart-shaped face, her skin smooth and ripe. In the picture, her face shone with happiness. He could imagine her looking up at him with that same look on her face. He would take her in his arms and… Scott dropped the photograph as if it had burned him. What was wrong with him? He got out and slammed the door. A rivet from the door handle fell and spun desolately around his feet.

  “Not at all sure you’re really worth fixing, Sheila.”

  A metallic groan rent the air. He had no time to realise its source before Sheila neatly dropped her front bumper on his foot. The car was old and falling apart. Scott kicked the bumper aside. As he walked away, he could have sworn he saw a glint in Sheila’s eyes … headlights, he reminded himself.

  Scott set the alarm as he locked the dealership door for the night. He’d been putting it off, but eventually he’d run out of excuses. He’d decided not to take TJ’s toolbox to her. Instead he would see what she had to say first—if she was talking to him. There was no harm in giving her the opportunity to apologise. She’d been the one breaking the rules after all … although, in all fairness, maybe he’d been a little hasty in firing her.

  As he strode out to his ute, he fumbled in his pocket for the crumpled piece of paper Tony had scribbled TJ’s address onto. “Rowley’s Gum Nut Cottage, Karingal Crescent, Karalee,” he muttered. “Damned if she’s not Mum’s neighbour. What are the odds of that?”

  He hadn’t visited Mum and Dad’s new haven in the hills yet. They’d opted for the tree change while he’d been tied up with settling the business over east.

  He shrugged out of his jacket and removed his tie, tossing them both carelessly into the passenger seat before loosening the top two buttons of his shirt. He rolled up the sleeves and sat with his hands on the steering wheel for a few minutes as he wondered what he would say to her when he got there. There seemed to be a lot the staff weren’t saying, and he was more than a little intrigued.

  The sun sat low in the sky as he drove up the winding highway into the leafy Perth hills. Twenty minutes later, he negotiated the steep, dirt driveway that led to TJ’s property. Lush wild grass swept the hillside towards the log cabin perched at the top. A creek meandered past and disappeared through the tall gum trees. Weak sunlight filtered through the smoky haze generated by slow-burning wood heaters that warded off the evening chill in surrounding homes. To the left of the log cabin, several smaller cabins stood empty and crumbling, windows glinting dustily in the dying rays of sunshine. Scott shivered. It was beautiful, magical and sad all at the same time. He pulled into the gravel clearin
g that served as the front yard.

  He got out of the ute and stood staring at the old cabin. Solid jarrah logs made up the walls that rested on a stone foundation. It was as ramshackle as the rest of the place. The corrugated roof sagged at one end of the veranda where the post had buckled under its weight. The stairs were covered in moss caused by damp creeping down from untended guttering. Carefully, he climbed them to the veranda, the slippery, cold stone loose under the soles of his shoes. Brunswick Green paint on the front door peeled away in chunks, revealing a good, solid Jarrah door underneath. Scott raised his hand to knock, but paused as he heard his name.

  “Well, Scott bloody Professional Spotlight put paid to that idea now, didn’t he?” There was no heat in the words, only annoyance tinged with a taste of hopelessness.

  “You have to sell, before it’s too late,” a male voice replied.

  “No way! I’ve put far too much work into planning the refuge already.”

  “You have to give up on this crazy idea that you can save the bloody world from drugs and violence.”

  “It’s not a crazy idea! At least I have the guts to try, and I won’t give up on those kids. Could you? They need somewhere to go, Rob! Somewhere they feel safe, secure, and comfortable … off the streets. Surely there’s another way?”

  “There is no other way and you know it. For God’s sake, TJ! The bank is threatening to foreclose on the mortgage, the council has imposed expensive restrictions on the removal of the asbestos, and the builders have refused to do the work because of the location. Your fundraising efforts have fallen in a heap because the community doesn’t want the project to go ahead. They’re terrified they’re going to have delinquent teenagers running riot in the hills. Oh, and did I mention you’re out of a job? You are never going to get this off the ground! If you sell now, you’ll at least have money to fix Sheila and keep Bruce. There won’t even be enough left over to buy somewhere else.” Frustration gave way to concern. “You have to stop thinking about those kids and think about yourself.”

  “You know I won’t give up on them. Anyway, where would I go? This is the only home we’ve ever known. Pop left the house to me. I owe it to him to rebuild his dream. I promised. He provided a home for us when Mum died. His dream was to provide that refuge to others too, and I won’t let him down.”

  “You’re broke. I’m not sure it’s your choice to make anymore. You could come and stay at my place, I guess.” Resignation rang in his voice, a man willing to accept his fate.

  TJ’s laugh rang out across the hill and sent pleasant tingles down Scott’s spine as he listened. “We’d kill each other. Besides, you have only one bedroom.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve bunked together.”

  That was it; he’d heard enough, Scott decided. He stepped around the corner onto the wooden slats of the veranda. They creaked under foot. TJ and the man turned their heads. They sat close together, each with a beer in hand. Perched on the thick, wooden veranda railing, they sat facing the view with the creek tinkling past below them. Slowly, TJ swung her legs across the railing and jumped down to the wooden deck. She perched her beer bottle in the spot her bum had vacated and wiped her hands on her denim shorts.

  “What brings you here? An apology?”

  “No. Your tool box key. I thought you might want to keep it until you can swing by and pick up your own tools. Tony’s been a little busy.” Scott’s gaze travelled up the long, sun-kissed legs that disappeared under well-worn shorts. Ragged around the edges and faded in all the right spots, they fit snugly. Her cotton shirt was buttoned to her cleavage, leaving a delicious hint of the hidden treasure he’d eyed the day before. A knot secured the shirt above her navel. Scott swallowed. She was an attractive package. Like he’d said, trouble with a capital T.

  “No shit,” she muttered, folding her arms under her breasts and tapping her foot impatiently.

  He dragged his eyes away and looked beyond her to the man now standing protectively behind her. He extended his hand, nodding as Rob shook it.

  “Please excuse my sister’s bad manners. I’m Rob Stevens.”

  “Scott bloody Professional Spotlight Devin.”

  Rob grinned and nudged TJ with his shoulder. To Scott he said, “Can I get you a beer?”

  “Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.” Scott grinned back.

  “I’ll be right back. TJ, behave!” he threw over his shoulder as the screen door slammed behind him.

  TJ turned her back on them both and went to lean on the veranda railing. She swept the bottle up, curled her fingers around it and raised it to her lips. Scott was rewarded with a view of her profile and watched as her throat worked to swallow the amber liquid. He imagined it trailing down her hot throat, past that moulded chest to pool into the flat stomach behind the navel that had taunted him earlier.

  Damn it! What was wrong with him? Two long strides had him standing next to her. Hands flat on the railing, he followed her stare across the valley and down to the creek. He needed to focus on the reason he was here.

  “Look, I’ve had a chat to Tony about the workshop. I’d like to offer you your job back.”

  “No thanks. I’m sure something else will come up.”

  “The team’s threatened to down tools until you come back.”

  “They won’t do that.”

  “I had four resignations yesterday.”

  TJ’s reply was to take another swig of her beer. He wished she hadn’t; it was distracting. He watched as she lowered the bottle and picked at the label until it began to peel away. Scott snagged the bottle from her hands and took a deep swallow. He tasted her lips on the rim, swallowed that taste with the yeasty flavour of the brew then licked his lips to savour it. He was fairly sure beer had never tasted that good. Too good.

  “Tony says you may have some answers for me about the business,” he tried again.

  “Depends on the questions.”

  Scott raked a hand through his hair. She wasn’t going to make this easy. He should walk away now. Employees had challenged him before, and he hadn’t let them get away with it. Why was he giving TJ so much rope? With anyone else, he would have sent them on their way with a final pay cheque.

  “Look, perhaps I was a bit hasty in firing you. I’m sorry. I checked the safety records and they’re impeccable. I can see you take safety seriously.”

  The mocking look she cast sideways suggested he should have checked those first. Before firing her would have been nice. She pushed away from the railing and paced the deck.

  “Will you at least think about it?” He turned to watch her, leaning his hip against the railing. He took another sip of the beer. Yep, the taste was still there. Damn! He put it back down.

  She stopped pacing and stared at him. Green eyes narrowed on blue before travelling across his face.

  “I know where I’ve seen you before!”

  The change of subject threw him momentarily. He frowned as he straightened.

  “Professional Spotlight?”

  “No. Sprawled across Rose Devin’s buffet!”

  He laughed out loud. “As … tempting … as that sounds, I’m sure you’re referring to Mum’s photo collection.”

  He pushed away from the railing and stepped towards her. She backed against the wall of the cabin. Driven by an impulse he knew he would later regret, he imprisoned her head by placing a hand on either side against the wall.

  “Did you like what you saw?” His eyes pinned hers like a butterfly on a pin board.

  Her gaze flickered away to his lips before she ducked out under his arm and scooted back to the edge of the veranda.

  “I’ve seen you naked.” She shrugged, as if the sight didn’t impress her at all.

  He didn’t miss the slight shake of her hand as she raised the bottle once more, avoiding his gaze.

  “I was two!”

  “Can I have my toolbox key now?”

  “No. I need an answer first.”

  “The answer
is still the same as it was.”

  “The whole team will leave.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “Then I keep the key. You have until Monday to think it over.”

  “The answer will be the same.”

  In two angry strides, he was in front of her. His hands firm on her upper arms as he forced her gaze to his.

  “The team needs you.”

  “You fired me!”

  Her eyes glittered angrily. She drew herself to her full height and still didn’t reach his chin. What she lacked in height, she made up for in attitude. She was breathing fast. Her breasts touched him with every intake of breath, creating havoc with his senses. He was having a seriously hard time focusing on what she was saying. Her lips moved as her voice growled low. They were tantalizingly close. If he leaned forward a little, he could kiss them. The tip of her pink tongue ran across her lips as she paused for breath, like the call of a siren as she lures unsuspecting men to watery grave. He leaned down, his lips parted in preparation to meet hers. He heard her intake of breathe.

  “Don’t even think about it, Scott Devin! I’ll slap a harassment suit on you so damn fast, your head will spin!” Two small, shapely fingers with short, neatly trimmed nails prodded him in the chest as they punctuated each word.

  Blinking, he straightened and stepped back. What the hell was he thinking? What a bloody unprofessional thing to do! Harassment. The word chilled his bones. That was the last thing he needed on his plate. He should walk away now and find himself another foreman.

  “Monday,” he muttered. “If you’re a no-show, I’ll send Marty home with your tools.”

  TJ stood, hands on her hips, and stared him down until he turned around. He felt her eyes burning on his back as he walked away.

  Chapter Three

  Scott knew the minute she arrived for work. Not because he’d been watching the driveway to see if she appeared. Not because of the loud cheer that raised the roof of the workshop as she sauntered through it—in her safety boots. It was the subtle shift of atmosphere, as if the building itself had missed her. Sunshine sliced through the gloom with each step she took, and smiles broke out on the faces of those she passed.