Page 12 of Moonlit Kisses

Time becomes inconsequential as I get lost in the task of connecting the wiring for the rear lights of my restoration project. As I connect the last wire, I glance up to find Molly hovering inside the doorway to the workshop. Sucking in a sharp breath, I allow myself to release the worry I’ve been holding onto about Molly’s safety since Mom brought up her concerns yesterday afternoon. She looks mighty different to the girl I met on Saturday. Dressed in office attire, I almost don’t recognize her. A dark checkered skirt hugs her hips, sitting just below her knees and a white silky looking blouse highlights her bust. Her almost-white hair is up in some sort of sexy knot on top of her head. She looks like a fucking hot secretary who works in a corporate office, not a mechanic’s filthy workshop.And I should not be fucking thinking about how hot she looks.She’s like twelve fucking years old. I run my hand through my hair as I make my way over to where she’s standing, fidgeting with the bracelet on her slender wrist.

“Uh … hello, Mr. Stanfield. I’m ready to start work, if the job is still available,” she stammers; her eyes flitting around the workshop, avoiding me.

I cross my arms and rub my thumbnail across my bottom lip. “Morning. Why so formal today?”

She tilts her head to the side, not understanding my question. I wave my arm up and down her body, my eyes following. She’s got a sensational body—long legs, slim hips, not too much boobage—just enough.Fuck, stop looking at her like that, you filthy pervert! You’re her fucking boss.

She looks down at herself as though to check what she’s wearing. “Oh, this. This is what I wore for my last job. I wanted to be professional.” She cracks those deep, deep dimples at me, her eyes wide. She looks too fucking professional for this place in that getup.

“You can probably wear jeans and a t-shirt here. I’m not sure what type of office you worked in before, but this is a more laid-back environment.”

“Sure.” She gestures over her shoulder. “I can change. I’ve got my clothes in the car.”

Spinning on her heel, I admire the shape of her calves in the black tights she’s wearing. Then it registers that she said she had her clothes in the car.

Why the fuck does she have her clothes in the car?

My long strides catch me up to her quickly, and I’m directly behind her as she opens her trunk. It’s not my business, but it looks as though she hasn’t unpacked her car. I stroll to the side of the car, discreetly looking inside. Sure enough, the blankets she was using to sleep are folded neatly on the back seat, along with several small packing boxes.

“How come you’ve still got all of your stuff in your car?”

Her head snaps up to me. I’m not sure she realized I was close by as she rummages through her bag, digging out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt. “I haven’t found a long-term place to live yet. Most places were closed yesterday and by the time I left on Saturday, I’d already missed a couple of opportunities. I decided it was easier to leave my stuff in my car.” I study her closely for a long moment. “You know, so I don’t have to unpack and pack again.” She widens her silver eyes with her explanation.

I guess that logic makes sense. “Fair enough. Is the place you’re staying safe?”

She glances away from me. “Oh, yeah!” Nodding her head as if to confirm her answer, she adds, “Totally safe.” She holds up an assortment of clothes. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom to change?”

“No problem. Go ahead. Then I’ll run you through a couple of things before you get started. You’ll need to fill out some employment paperwork, too.” I close her trunk and we both make our way inside. “You want a coffee?”

“Yes, please. That’d be great. Cream, no sugar, thanks,” she calls back through the closed bathroom door. I hear the shower turn on.What the fuck?I thought she was only changing clothes.

I hold back on making her coffee to ensure it’s hot when she finally comes out, and deal with a client as they drop off their keys while she’s in the bathroom. The door opens, and steam gushes out of the room into the small office space. “I thought you were just changing clothes?”

She glances back at the bathroom as she shrugs. “Sorry ’bout that. The place I showered this morning only had cold water. I couldn’t resist. I hope you don’t mind.”Too bad if I did.I hope she doesn’t expect to get away with whatever she wants while I’m waiting on her and making her coffee. From my experience, girls that look like her expect to always get their way.

Hmmm. I’m not used to being a boss, but she’s on the clock.Myclock. Should I cut her some slack? It’s her first day, after all. Or should I be a hard ass? “Don’t make a habit of it, okay? You’re supposed to start work at eight. I had to deal with a client because you weren’t ready for work.” Hard ass it is, then.

Her cheeks flush prettily as she shifts on her feet. “Sorry, Mr. Stanfield. It won’t happen again. I’ll run these to my car and be ready to start.” She holds up her fancy clothes and I nod.

She takes off and I make our coffee, ready to show her the system I have in place, although she had a pretty good grasp of it on Saturday without being shown. I spend the next thirty minutes leaning over Molly to show her the system. Each time I lean forward, I’m hit with her alluring scent; I can’t quite place it, but it’s a far cry from motor oil and grease. She’s a quick study, even suggesting some ways to simplify the invoicing system, which I’m more than happy for her to do.

“Okay, I’m going to head out to work on the brake replacement in bay one. We need to get your employment forms sorted. Can you please fill them in?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Stanfield.” She hits me with those fucking dimples, as if they punctuate her sentence.

“Call me Max. Okay? Mr. Stanfield is my dad.” I huff out a chuckle.

“Oh, okay, Max. I’ll try to remember.” I take one last glance at her with those cute glasses perched on her nose as she returns her focus to my laptop, then I step into the workshop to get to work.

* * *

“Shit, fuck!” My thumb instantly throbs from the impact of the mallet against it. Shoving it in my mouth, I realize my mistake immediately as the taste of grease coats my tongue. It’s not the first time I’ve done it, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Footsteps rush across the open space. “Are you okay? What happened?” My new assistant drops to her knees beside me.

I wrap my free hand around my thumb, attempting to reduce the throb. “Hit my thumb with the mallet. I do it at least once a week.”

“Shit. That’d hurt.” Molly stands and spins on her heel and runs back to the office. I’m guessing she doesn’t like to see people injured. Shaking out my hand, I start back up where I left off, being more cautious of my own body parts. “Here. Wrap this around it.” Molly grabs my hand and wraps a cold compress around my thumb, holding it in place.

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