Page 60 of How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend

He grins. “Never said I was a monk.”

“Obviously not, you dog you.”

“Anyway, let’s have a seat in my office. I have a proposition for you.”

“I won’t do anything for less than a million dollars,” I quip.

He shakes his head as he leads me to his office. I study the room when we’re inside. I’ve never been in here before. It’s a mess. There are papers piled everywhere. There’s also a carburetor on the desk leaking oil on the papers there.

I motion toward the filing cabinets. “Maybe you should buy more of those.”

His chair squeaks as he sits in it. “Have a seat.”

The only other chair in the place is piled high with paperwork. I lift the pile up and set it on the floor. “Have you seriously never filed a piece of paperwork in your life?”

He shrugs. “Paperwork is for pencil pushers.”

I’m not much for paperwork myself. I’d rather work with my hands.

“What do you want to discuss?”

He leans back in his chair. “I want you to take over the business.”

My nose wrinkles. “What business? This business?”

He nods.

“But you barely know me.”

“I know enough. I know you’re a hard worker. I know you’re a damn fine mechanic.”

“It’s true. I am a damn fine mechanic.”

He chuckles. “And modest, too.”

“Being modest will get you nowhere when you’re a woman working in a man’s field.”

“I don’t have any experience but I expect you’re right.”

“Trust me. I am. It happens more often.”

“So, what do you say? You want to take over my business?”

“The tow truck business?” I ask since he can’t possibly mean his renovation business.

“All of it. The tow truck. The car renovation business. The garage. Everything.”

“Yes!” I shout. “I’d love, too.” I’m already thinking about how I can celebrate when I remember. I have no money. Sixty-eight dollars won’t exactly buy me a business. “But I can’t afford to.”

He waves away my concern. “Ask your uncle for a loan. I’m sure he’ll give you one.”

“But he needs his money to pay for a nursing home. I don’t want him in one of those government ones where the nurses chain the wheelchairs to the wall.” I have no idea what government nursing homes are like, but I’m not chancing it.

“Ask him. He can afford it.”

“Is my uncle rich or something?” I joke but Basil doesn’t laugh. His gaze on me is steady. “Shit. You’re not joking.”

“Nope.”

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