Page 12 of Tuned To Break
“I need hours logged correctly,” she eyes José. We all know he’s a slacker when it comes to documenting his work.
“The diaries need to be updated regularly so I can send out customer updates.” That one lands on Asher. He’s notorious for not taking photos or updating his work progress.
Her gaze falls on me, and I feel like she’s looking right through me. “And you need to start preparing better. You need to do a full inventory of everything you’re going to need for each job so it can all be invoiced and ordered, because we all know that ordering some of these parts doesn’t take a day—we can’t get them overnight express from Japan; this isn’t Fast and the Furious. They need to be ordered in advance, and you’re delaying jobs by not doing it correctly from the beginning.”
Well, I’ll be damned. By the sounds of it, Stella already has this workshop nailed down. I know I could be doing a better job at what I do, but you know what? I haven’t had someone here who can help me with that, because every other woman who’s walked through those doors has been fucking useless.
My gut tells me things are about to change around here. And if I’m right, hopefully for the better. This shop was prestigious, and it still is. People wait years to get their cars worked on here. But Doc started slacking, and it was sad to see all those years of his hard work begin to go down the drain.
The way she’s standing there, hands on her hips, authority in her voice, yet completely in control. The way she’s not backing down from any of us, the fire in her eyes when she’s laying downthe law—it’s doing things to me that I shouldn’t be thinking about at work.
Fuck me, this woman is going to be the death of me if I don’t figure out soon what to do regarding me and her.
CHAPTER THREE
STELLA
My drive to Grumpy’s after my first shift at Doc’s gives me time to think. I’m meeting Emily and Megan for drinks and dinner to give them the rundown of how my first day went. And holy shit, do I have some things to tell them.
First off—that office. My God, I don’t know how they even functioned. It’s an utter disaster. Nothing is organised and filed correctly. There wasn’t a pen or pencil in sight. The previous receptionist wasn’t paying bills. She wasn’t billing clients. She wasn’t doing anything she was supposed to be doing. Yasmin gave me a quick rundown, and it was all pretty straightforward, but filtering through all the chaos is going to be a pain in my arse. It’s going to take me weeks to get them back on track, if not months. But I’m up for the challenge, it keeps my mind working. Honestly, the look on those guys’ faces when I put them all in their place this afternoon was worth every second of pain I went through and will go through when it comes to that office.
But that’s not what’s bothering me the most.
It’s Jake.
When he called me ‘darl’, there was a spark of recognition. A flickering thought. A lingering something. I tried remembering if we’d met before, but then a lightbulb turned on in my brain,and I nearly fell to my knees. It was his voice. There was just something about the way he said ‘darl’ that sounded exactly like the man who’s been haunting my dreams since that night at Grumpy’s masquerade party three months ago...
I don’t know for sure if it’s him, and he sure as hell didn’t let on that he knew it was me. I’m proud of myself for schooling my features quickly so I wouldn’t give away what I was thinking, but of course my pussy betrayed me.
Just hearing that word again—the word that’s been echoing in my memory. The word that pops up every time I touch and please myself. Every filthy thought I have at night. Or when I wake up wet from another fantasy dream about the masked stranger who made me come harder than anyone’s ever made me come before.
Is it possible that Jake is my kinky Batman’s cousin? The guy from my dreams? The guy who rocked my world and left without even giving me his name?
I don’t know, but when he cornered me in my office today, I didn’t push him back because he entered my space. It was the instant sizzling attraction that struck me the second he walked through the door. It sent my pulse into a frenzy, my brain to mush, and desire trembling through my body. It all felt the same as that night.
And the banter. God—I don’t know if it’s like foreplay or what, but even now I’m clenching my thighs, trying to relieve the pressure, relieve some of the tension, the ache. Fuck me, I would do anything to have those fingers on me again and that hand wrapped around my throat as I come.
Shaking the memories from my head, I pull into the car park at Grumpy’s and head inside to meet the girls. I find them in the booth at the back and sit down just as Logan walks over with a cocktail for me.
“How are you doing, honey?” Logan says in his overly enthusiastic tone.
“I’m good. And you, Logan?”
“I am fantastic! I am one step closer to getting the girl!”
I shake my head. We come here often enough for afternoon drinks or dinner that I know about Logan’s love life. I’m pretty sure he’s delusional, because this guy has banged half of New Hope and tells everyone about it. But apparently there’s this girl he’s got his eye on—she’s “the one,” and that’s it. He’s done. He’s going to win her over, and they’ll live happily ever after. Not sure she’s on the same page or knows he exists, but that’s Logan’s problem.
“I’m good. It’s been a long day. Keep the drinks coming.”
“Sure thing, hun,” he says as he strolls off back to the bar.
I turn to look at my friends, and Emily and Megan both stare at me expectantly.
“So,” Megan draws out, “how was it?”
I let out a sigh and take a sip of my cocktail. “It’s a big job, that’s for sure.”
“What do you mean?” Emily enquires.
