Page 102 of Tuned To Break
“Morning, boys,” she calls as she emerges from her office, tablet in hand and looking as stunning as ever in a fitted green dress that hugs every curve. “Progress reports, please.”
“Corvette’s ready for paint,” Asher announces from his station.
“Mustang restoration is on schedule for Friday delivery,” Parker adds.
“And this beautiful beast,” I say, patting the Shelby’s guard, “is fighting me every step of the way, but we’re getting there.”
“Sounds like your type, Jake,” José calls with a grin. “Beautiful, high-maintenance, and impossible to control.”
“Are you talking about the car or Stella?” Chase asks innocently.
“HEY!” Stella protests, but she’s laughing. “I am not high maintenance!”
“Darl,” I say, shaking my head as I wipe my hands on a rag and step closer to her, “you have a very specific coffee order that takes three minutes to explain, you organise your wardrobe by colour and season, and you once made us redo an entire invoice because the font was wrong.”
“The font was Comic Sans,” she replies, dignified. “No self-respecting business uses Comic Sans.”
“Point proven,” Robert chuckles from his welding bay.
“I prefer ‘attention to detail’ over ‘high maintenance,’” Stella says, chin tipping up.
“Whatever you want to call it,” I murmur, close enough to catch a whiff of her perfume, “it’s sexy as hell.”
The workshop erupts in groans and fake gagging.
“Get a room,” Rhys calls.
“We have a room,” I point out. “It’s called Stella’s office.”
“JAKE!” Her face goes bright red, but she’s fighting a smile.
“What? I’m just saying it’s private, has a desk, blinds, and a lockable door…”
“I’m going to kill you,” she threatens, though the heat in her eyes says she’s thinking about very different activities involving that desk.
“Empty threats,” José observes. “She’s been threatening to kill us for months and we’re all still here.”
“That’s because you’re useful,” Stella fires back. “Jake, on the other hand…”
“Is very useful,” I finish with a wicked grin. “Ask me about my oral skills sometime.”
Silence holds for a beat before the room explodes into laughter and wolf whistles. Stella looks like she wants the floor to swallow her whole.
“I hate all of you,” she declares, but the laugh slips out anyway.
“No, you don’t,” Chase chirps. “You love us. We’re your dysfunctional work family.”
“Emphasis on dysfunctional,” she mutters, but there’s genuine affection in her voice.
The morning rolls on with the usual banter and busy hands. I’m making good progress on the Shelby when I realiseStella’s been in her office for over an hour without emerging. Usually she’s in constant motion—checking projects, answering questions, keeping everything ticking.
Curious, I wipe my hands and head to her office. Through the glass I see her hunched over the desk, absorbed in whatever she’s working on. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, and she’s twirling a strand of red hair around her finger—the tell she has when she’s thinking hard about something.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Even when she’s stressed and focused on work, even when she probably hasn’t looked up from her computer in an hour, she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I knock lightly on the doorframe. “Everything alright in here?”
She looks up, blinking like she’s surfacing from deep water. “Oh—hi. What time is it?”
