Page 54 of Ice Darling
“April gave me some pointers, and I was able to isolate the gear that’s sticking.”
“Cool.”
“I heard you’re the new owner of Stewart Kinsey’s garage,” I say, taking a bite of the donut.
“Yeah.” Rebel’s grin turns mischievous. “Hypothetical question, but how do you feel about running a garage?”
I nearly choke on the donut. “Me?”
She nods.
“I’m still learning. I don’t think I’m in a position to head anything.”
“Hm.” Rebel flattens the collar of her pink jumpsuit.
“Why? Are you looking for someone to manage Kinsey’s garage?”
“I am.”
“Why not promote the most senior technician there?”
She pinches her lips. “The senior techs weren’t happy that I’m the new owner. They quit.”
“Oh no.”
“The ones who stayed don’t have the managerial experience. Running a mechanic shop isn’t just about knowing the trade. You’re also in charge of customer service, inventory, organization, and managing stubborn mechanics who want to do thingstheirway.”
“I hope I’m not considered that type of mechanic.”
“No.” She laughs.
“Hiring qualified people is one of the most difficult parts of owning a company. I once tried to fill the CFO position at one of our subsidiary companies, and it was very difficult to find someone both experienced and trustworthy.”
Rebel stares at me. “I love how you oh-so-casually mention that you ran a million-dollar company and come from one of the richest families in the country.”
“To be fair, I only ran the company for a year, and I was awful at it. So please forget I said anything.” I scarf down the rest of my donut. “What are you going to do about the CEO position at Stewart’s garage? Are you going to keep working at The Pink Garage too? You can’t be both places at once.”
“April already read me the riot act, and I don’t plan to leave The Pink Garage. I asked May to put out anotheradvertisement.” Rebel gives me a friendly tap on the shoulder. “It worked the first time.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is.”
We exchange smiles, and then Rebel goes off to start her own repair work.
After washing my hands, I approach the large truck in the east bay and pop the hood open. The engine sprawls before me, rusty and dirty and begging for help.
And I’m just the woman for the job.
My hair gets into my face while I work, so I thoughtlessly push it back behind my ear. Then I remember Renthrow’s fingers sliding over my cheeks and doing the same.
I’m instantly back in his living room, his body close to mine, his touch languid, and his breath dusting the side of my neck.
Heat blazes under my skin, and I chew on my bottom lip.
I amnotdoing this.
It’s enough that the man’s cooking had me imitating Sleeping Beauty. Renthrow and I struck a deal, and I need to remain professional. Melting into a puddle every time he touches me would be a disaster.
