Page 12 of Her Cadillac Cowboy
“Mr. McKinley’s a mighty stubborn man, Miss Carson.”
“And I can be mighty persuasive, when I need to be.”
“Yes’m, that you can. If anybody can talk Mr. McKinley outta that lease, it’s probably you.” Gene stood. “Will there be anything else, Miss Carson?”
“No Gene, that’s fine. I’ll want you here first thing tomorrow morning to go over the books with me and the accountants.”
“I’ll be here. By the way,” he said as he opened the door, “how’s your daddy?”
“Dad’s doing nicely, thank you for asking. Maybe you could stop by for a visit in a couple of days.”
“I’ll surely do that, Miss Carson. Nice talking to you.” He stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Sara worked through until noon. If McKinley got the note she sent this morning, she had just enough time to step down to the body shop and have a word with the crew about the surface damage on the lot cars.
“We don’t know who’s damaging those cars, Miss Carson. But we resent being accused of shoddy work.”
“You can’t expect us to inspect every piece that enters and leaves the shop and do our own jobs as well.”
“The foreman should do that.”
“Ain’t our fault if Carson’s don’t want to keep a foreman.”
If the body shop wasn’t falling down on the job, how were her cars getting scratched and dented?
She looked over the group of men until she came to a familiar face. “Steve Chavez, do you think you can do the job of prep and body foreman?
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are the rest of you men willing to work for Steve?”
The group nodded.
“Okay. Steve, I expect the damaged cars to be repaired within the week. On Monday, I want an explanation of how the damage occurred, so we can prevent the problem from happening again.”
“You bet.”
She had confidence that Steve Chavez would make every effort to discover the source of the damage. But she’d hoped for a more immediate answer.
Like the heat, the problem continued to nag at her even as she arrived at the door of the warehouse hot and dusty after walking from the dealership to the warehouse. This was no way to confront McKinley.
A brief glance showed the Caddy gleaming black and silver in the sun, a classic reminder of why she had to get its owner to revoke the lease. Carson’s offered top quality products. Without an equally impressive showroom, Carson’s might well disappear.
She took a deep breath and knocked.
Be assertive, be positive, be reasonable.Silently, she chanted the mantra that had seen her through confrontations with board members of multinational industries, Aleut Indians, and dozens of government administrators. She would offer to help McKinley Springboard move its storage facility. The idea was a good one, a reasonable one. Like any reasonable businessman, McKinley would agree with her.
She knocked again; the door remained closed. Heat beat up from the pavement. The sun broiled down. A drop of sweat trickled slowly between her shoulder blades and made her back itch. She gave her shoulders a small, side-to-side wiggle to ease the discomfort. What was going on? Her note said 1:00 p.m. sharp. She checked her watch. Five after.
Another drop followed the first. Her skin crawled. The urge to scratch increased to a demand. She arched her back, bent her arm at an awkward angle, and stretched her fingers toward the irritated spot just above her bra strap. A large, warm hand closed over her fingers and held them in place before she could reach the itch.
“Allow me,” a voice like smoke and honey eased over her shoulder. He released her fingers, and ten firm points of pressure scratched in a circle that soothed the irritated spot, then broadened gradually to encompass her entire back, easing unrecognized tension.
“Ahhh,” she purred and inhaled the scent of bay and spices.Josh smells good enough to eat.
???
“Better?” He lifted his hand away. He’d thought of nothing but Sara since she’d walked into the warehouse yesterday.
