Page 19 of Tuned To Break
“Asher, the same goes for you. Plus, I need detailed reports on paint jobs—what products you’re using, how many coats, drying times, everything. Some of these insurance claims are going to need that level of detail.”
“No worries,” Asher says. “I can do that.”
Her gaze lands on me, and I swear I see hunger staring back at me. “Jake, we need to talk about your parts ordering system, or lack thereof. You can’t just order things as you need them. I need comprehensive lists for each job at least two weeks in advance.”
“Two weeks?” I ask. “Some of these parts are?—”
“Some of these parts are specialty items that take time to source,” she cuts me off. “Which is exactly why we need to plan ahead. I’ve already identified three jobs that are delayed because parts weren’t ordered in time.”
She’s right, and I know it, but there’s something about being told what to do by someone who’s been here less than twenty-four hours that hits me in the chest in the best possible way. Pretty sure it has to do with her.
“And what if something breaks that we don’t expect?” I challenge. “What if we find something during a restoration that wasn’t in the original scope?”
She stops pacing and looks directly at me. “Then you call the client immediately, get approval for the additional work, and we emergency order the parts. But that should be the exception, not the rule.”
“Fine. But I’m not a fucking secretary. I don’t want to spend all day doing paperwork.”
“No, you’re a mechanic. A damn good one from what I can see. But you’re also part of a business, and businesses need systems.” She steps closer to me. “I’m not asking you to become a secretary. I’m asking you to help me make this place run smoothly so you can focus on what you do best.”
The way she’s looking at me—challenging me, not backing down even though I’m a foot taller than her—makes me want to lift her up and kiss the fuck out of her. Not caring there’s an audience. Not giving two fucks about what they might think about the two of us.
“What’s in it for me?” I tease.
“Better coffee,” she comes back with the biggest smile on her face. It makes her more beautiful. “And maybe I’ll stop riding your arse about the paperwork once you prove you can do it.”
“Is that a promise?”
“That’s an incentive.”
“Right,” Chase interrupts. “Stella, what do you need from me?”
“Actually, I need to go over the books with you. Some of these numbers don’t add up, and I want to make sure I understand the payment terms with clients.”
“We can do that now if you want.”
“Perfect. Boys,” she addresses José, Asher, and me, “I need you to start implementing these changes immediately. Jake, I want that parts list for the car that’s coming in next week on my desk by the end of the day.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I respond with a mock salute.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t be a smart arse.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, darl. Wouldn’t want you to feed me to the pigs.” My throat tightens while I wait to see if my comment hits its mark. It only takes a blink, and there it is—just a hint that appears before she quickly masks it.
“Office. Now, Chase,” she barks, breaking our stare down. “And Jake? The coffee machine is not a toy. Don’t break it.”
With that, she walks away, heels clicking on the concrete, and I’m left watching the sway of her arse again and trying to adjust myself discreetly.
“Mate,” José says quietly, “you are so fucked.”
“Huh?”
“By the way you’re looking at her. The way she was looking at you. This is going to end one of two ways—either you’re going to bang her, or she’s going to fire you.”
“She can’t fire me.”
“Want to bet?” Asher laughs. “That woman just made us all jump to attention with a cup of coffee and a five-minute speech. If she wants you gone, you’re gone.”
I look toward the office where I can see Stella and Chase with their heads together over paperwork. She’s taken off her glassesand is rubbing her temples, and all I can think about is how I’d like to massage the tension away. How I’d like to put my hands all over her.
