But she had a crush on the man. If he was her boss, that would complicate things. Not like he’d made a single move her way in the time she’d lived next door to him, though.
“Wow, you’re doing a lot of thinking in there.” He tapped her temple and she smiled.
“Not thinking gets a girl caught in too many dead ends.” She paused. “You said you needed me right away?”
He nodded. “The sooner you can start, the better. Even if it’s just a few hours here and there until you can start full time.”
“All right then. Sounds like you have a new office manager.”
CHAPTER Two
Motor oil, metal, rubber from tires new and ancient, the bite of new paint, and the buttery tones of leather—these were the scents that greeted Duke as he pushed open the side door of Twisted Steel on a gorgeous July morning.
Their logo, mounted high on the wall across from the main doors, caught the sunlight on the sharp edges of the letters. He’d seen it thousands of times and yet every time it moved him still.
He’d created this place with his hands, his heart, and his mind. He and his best friend Asa had started their custom build business in Asa’s cousin’s garage. Just scraping by as they created a reputation and saved every damned penny they could.
He looked around their space. They were open six days a week with Duke and Asa still part of every single project.
They continued to build—both reputation and footprint. Ground had been broken on the construction of a brand-new showroom nearly twice the size of the one they had now. A gleaming, soaring space where they’d show off current work and greet potential clients.
They didn’t get where they were by slacking and neither man planned to lose what they’d fought so hard to achieve. Which was why Duke was there at six thirty on a Thursday morning to finish a project due to be delivered the following day.
The bounce in his step, though, was entirely due to the fact that their replacement office manager was starting in just a few hours. Just thinking about Carmella Rossi made him smile.
Asa was already in their break room pouring himself a mug of coffee when Duke walked in hoping to find some caffeine. He held up the carafe before putting it back. “Just made a pot. Better get some before everyone else gets here.”
Duke grinned as he put his saddlebags away in one of the lockers lining the back wall. “Right on,” he said, grabbing his mug from the dishwasher on his way over.
Duke lifted his coffee mug in salute as Mick came in with a huge box of bagels and every kind of topping you could want. “Figured that since we have to go over the schedule, we should carb load,” Mick said.
They had a lot of finish work to do, which meant the rest of their crew would begin to show up soon enough. The custom leatherwork on the doors had been a week behind its due date, which put the entire project’s schedule at risk. And then there’d been trouble with the headers.
Mick, the third in the Twisted Steel hierarchy and the master of their build schedule, had dealt with each setback patiently and efficiently, which left Duke and Asa alone to fall into the work.
“Another reason I’m glad to have you around,” Duke said as he helped himself to one of the few rye bagels. Mick understood what it meant to have his mojo interrupted so he often played offensive line to protect the headspace Duke liked to fall into when he got his hands on any machine.
Mick had a large whiteboard calendar he rolled over, along with the laptop and the ever-present notepad he kept in his back pocket, and they had some breakfast and coffee while going over the schedule for the next week.
“We probably should have included Carmella in this meeting,” Mick said. “I’ll get with her soon to see what her preference is. I think it’s good for her to sit in a few times at least to get a feel for how we work.”
All the guys had been thrilled that Carmella accepted the job, especially knowing she did the books and managed the office for her uncle’s business for years.
Kismet, Duke thought.
“Makes sense. Did you crash here in your office or did you manage to make it home?” Duke asked Asa, who’d still been there when he’d finally left.
Asa rolled his head on his shoulders, a few cracks in his spine as he did. “I slept next to my woman. I’m getting too old for sleeping on couches. And I’m really too old to pretend I’m not way more comfortable at home with PJ.”
Eight months after Duke’s closest friend had moved in with his girlfriend PJ, there were still brawls and races, and plenty of working until all hours, but the heart of Asa’s life had settled and it looked damned good on him.
Duke was happy with his own life, but he had to admit sometimes he felt a twinge of yearning when he saw Asa and PJ together. Their connection was so clear, that sense of partnership so tangible it made Duke begin to think being with someone for the long haul was not only possible, but something he might want too.
“I’m going to get to it,” Duke said, standing and gathering his stuff, his head already in the hybrid 1934 Ford at his workstation.
Duke and machines had a thing. A hot, steamy affair. He touched them and they obeyed. As it should be. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t fix things, but he did recall the moment he understood it was more than a thing he did out of necessity but something he did because he loved it.
Which was a good thing because the Ford was pretty much a rebuild. The parts had taken forever to drum up and even then they had to machine a lot of their own stuff and repurpose a different Ford engine when the one it came with nearly blew up.
“Wow, you’re doing a lot of thinking in there.” He tapped her temple and she smiled.
“Not thinking gets a girl caught in too many dead ends.” She paused. “You said you needed me right away?”
He nodded. “The sooner you can start, the better. Even if it’s just a few hours here and there until you can start full time.”
“All right then. Sounds like you have a new office manager.”
CHAPTER Two
Motor oil, metal, rubber from tires new and ancient, the bite of new paint, and the buttery tones of leather—these were the scents that greeted Duke as he pushed open the side door of Twisted Steel on a gorgeous July morning.
Their logo, mounted high on the wall across from the main doors, caught the sunlight on the sharp edges of the letters. He’d seen it thousands of times and yet every time it moved him still.
He’d created this place with his hands, his heart, and his mind. He and his best friend Asa had started their custom build business in Asa’s cousin’s garage. Just scraping by as they created a reputation and saved every damned penny they could.
He looked around their space. They were open six days a week with Duke and Asa still part of every single project.
They continued to build—both reputation and footprint. Ground had been broken on the construction of a brand-new showroom nearly twice the size of the one they had now. A gleaming, soaring space where they’d show off current work and greet potential clients.
They didn’t get where they were by slacking and neither man planned to lose what they’d fought so hard to achieve. Which was why Duke was there at six thirty on a Thursday morning to finish a project due to be delivered the following day.
The bounce in his step, though, was entirely due to the fact that their replacement office manager was starting in just a few hours. Just thinking about Carmella Rossi made him smile.
Asa was already in their break room pouring himself a mug of coffee when Duke walked in hoping to find some caffeine. He held up the carafe before putting it back. “Just made a pot. Better get some before everyone else gets here.”
Duke grinned as he put his saddlebags away in one of the lockers lining the back wall. “Right on,” he said, grabbing his mug from the dishwasher on his way over.
Duke lifted his coffee mug in salute as Mick came in with a huge box of bagels and every kind of topping you could want. “Figured that since we have to go over the schedule, we should carb load,” Mick said.
They had a lot of finish work to do, which meant the rest of their crew would begin to show up soon enough. The custom leatherwork on the doors had been a week behind its due date, which put the entire project’s schedule at risk. And then there’d been trouble with the headers.
Mick, the third in the Twisted Steel hierarchy and the master of their build schedule, had dealt with each setback patiently and efficiently, which left Duke and Asa alone to fall into the work.
“Another reason I’m glad to have you around,” Duke said as he helped himself to one of the few rye bagels. Mick understood what it meant to have his mojo interrupted so he often played offensive line to protect the headspace Duke liked to fall into when he got his hands on any machine.
Mick had a large whiteboard calendar he rolled over, along with the laptop and the ever-present notepad he kept in his back pocket, and they had some breakfast and coffee while going over the schedule for the next week.
“We probably should have included Carmella in this meeting,” Mick said. “I’ll get with her soon to see what her preference is. I think it’s good for her to sit in a few times at least to get a feel for how we work.”
All the guys had been thrilled that Carmella accepted the job, especially knowing she did the books and managed the office for her uncle’s business for years.
Kismet, Duke thought.
“Makes sense. Did you crash here in your office or did you manage to make it home?” Duke asked Asa, who’d still been there when he’d finally left.
Asa rolled his head on his shoulders, a few cracks in his spine as he did. “I slept next to my woman. I’m getting too old for sleeping on couches. And I’m really too old to pretend I’m not way more comfortable at home with PJ.”
Eight months after Duke’s closest friend had moved in with his girlfriend PJ, there were still brawls and races, and plenty of working until all hours, but the heart of Asa’s life had settled and it looked damned good on him.
Duke was happy with his own life, but he had to admit sometimes he felt a twinge of yearning when he saw Asa and PJ together. Their connection was so clear, that sense of partnership so tangible it made Duke begin to think being with someone for the long haul was not only possible, but something he might want too.
“I’m going to get to it,” Duke said, standing and gathering his stuff, his head already in the hybrid 1934 Ford at his workstation.
Duke and machines had a thing. A hot, steamy affair. He touched them and they obeyed. As it should be. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t fix things, but he did recall the moment he understood it was more than a thing he did out of necessity but something he did because he loved it.
Which was a good thing because the Ford was pretty much a rebuild. The parts had taken forever to drum up and even then they had to machine a lot of their own stuff and repurpose a different Ford engine when the one it came with nearly blew up.
