Page 34 of Fast and Dirty

“Yes!” She lights up and walks over to the cash stand. “For dough maker and bench hand, I could use some help,” she informs me as she pulls open a drawer. She retrieves a pen and tears an application form off a ream before attaching it to a clipboard.

“While she fills that out, I need to talk to you about Harloe.” Agnes bellies up to the counter and leans an elbow on it as Maggie settles in. “She wants to come back to town to have her wedding and I wanted to go over cake ideas.”

“Oh fantastic! “ Maggie exclaims as I take a seat at one of the cute bistro tables. I let the ladies dish as I peruse my first ever job application. It’s a mite discouraging writing none, none and none, under the experience portions but I try to make up for it in the education section and additional comments, stating that I’m eager to learn and can follow instructions, yada yada.

As I’m finishing up, I catch the tail end of the ladies’ conversation. “Yeah,” Agnes sighs “I’m thinking Hunt can spruce up the park gazebo for her. It’s not the old Inn, but it will be beautiful. Oh look, your over-qualified applicant finished her form.” Shejerks her chin at me as I approach and hand the clipboard back to Maggie.

“She studied historical architecture at university,” she reads off my application before looking up. “And you want to work in a bakery?” She raises an eyebrow, looking confused.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’m sorry for the lack of experience, but I’m looking for a fresh start somewhere. I’m happy to help in any way I can, and I’m only looking to make enough to get by -,”

“I’d love to have you,” Maggie smiles, cutting off my explaining. “These jobs are pretty easy to teach but if you can get the hang of them, it will take a lot off my plate. Do you want to start tomorrow?”

“I’d love to,” I give her a wide-eyed smile, disbelieving my luck.

West

Unbelievable.

I have to admit when Kira’s almost Uncle - in - law or whatever the fuck called, I had my guard up, ready for verbal sparring with some stuffed up snooty prick who wipes his ass with a silk hankerchief or something.

Not even close.

Mr. Theodore Wellington is rich beyond words, but he’s lost interest in the contemptuous, country club lifestyle the rest of the family leads. Instead, he’s spent his millions collecting rare cars in a showroom and doesn’t interact much with Preston’s family, but of course they saw an opportunity for one of his cars to be used as a spectacle in thealready spectacleof a wedding.

When I woke up this morning, I would have said you were high off your ass if you told me I’d make friends with a rich, bigcity ex-socialite. I had a blast talking to Mr. Wellington - or, Ted,- about his interest in cars. He may not do much with them as far as upkeep and restoration, but the man knows his shit.

“I know I’ve fallen behind on keeping them in running condition, but if I’d known Kira was going to leave my idiot nephew hanging like that I would’ve dropped a turbo charger in it and a carbon fiber hood,”he proclaimed, before we spent a half hour shooting the shit about all things with engines and wheels.

I was blown away, and his comment gave me all sorts of ideas. But that was before he said the really crazy part. Damn near fell out of my chair before we exchanged contact info and agreed to keep in touch.

All sorts of inspiration and adrenaline running through me, I pop up and head into the work bays and right into a conversation that was not meant for me to hear.

“So what’s his deal, anyway?” Ryan asks from his perch on a rolling stool and he rubs his hands on a shammy cloth while Razor wrenches away at a stubborn lugnut on a motorcycle wheel. The toss of Ryan’s head in the direction of my office can only lead me to assume he’s referring to me.

What’smydeal?

Daddy issues, a fucked up ball gown fetish, prison time…

I slow my strides, approaching them quietly.

“Not a lot of us know,” Razor rattles off, not looking up from his task. “Just that his old man is some famous racecar driver, and West served on his pit crew before going to jail for some time. Took online business classes from the clink, and here we are. Hand me one of those washers,” he holds his hand out and Ryan starts digging through one of the tool chest trays.

He blows out a breath like he’s processing a huge bombshell of information. “What the hell was he in jail for?”

I come to a stop between the two of them and cross my arms. They both slowly rotate theirheads in my direction, sheepish looks on both their faces, though Razor does a better job of hiding it.

I look between the two of them for a moment before supplying, “Taking a zip gun to an incompetent crew member’s nuts.” I manage to keep my face unreadable.

Ryan sets his jaw before swallowing hard and then jumping in his seat when Jackson revs an actual zip gun from across the garage, his tongue sticking out from between his teeth in a teasing smile.

I lift my chin to regard him. “Jackson! Quit fucking around and come with me!” I order. The goofy bastard sets the zipgun down and jogs over, falling in step with me as I walk through the entryway that takes us to the last bay, where I have the Rolls tucked safely in a corner covered by a protective tarp.

“What are we doing?” Jackson asks, falling in beside me.

“Give me a hand.” I jerk my chin in the direction of one side of the car while I go over to the other and grab hold of the tarp. He helps me pull it back halfway, exposing the front end of the car and I come around and pop the hood. “Grab a notepad and pen,” I instruct next. I need to get all the ideas I have out of my head and onto paper before I run and find Kira. She’s going to be floored.

“We finally got plans for this thing?” He asks, obligingly pulling out a notepad from the top drawer of the nearby tool chest.

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