Page 3 of Come Ride With Me
“I’d like to get started with my job,” she said after a few more quiet moments. “And you can call me Mica.”
Oh, that was the least of what he wanted to call her. Babygirl came to mind along with a vision of burying his face in her neck while his dick stroked the very depth of her. Good Fuckin’ Girl, as she tossed her ass back on him and he chased a hell of a nut. Sweetheart as he gripped her hair and she sucked his dick so hard he forgot his own damn name. Those were just a few at the top of his list as he turned away from her and kept moving down another long hallway. He stopped at the last office and leaned over to look inside. “Earl’s not here.”
“That’s fine. All I need is a desk. I have my laptop and some preliminary files. I’ll need to get more of the financial information, but I have enough to get started. Do you know when Mr. Banyon will be in?”
“You can call him Earl,” Nash told her and walked back the way they’d come, stopping at a closed door to what he knew was an empty office. “You can work in here. I’ll text Earl and let him know you’re here and that you need to see him.”
“Great. Thanks. And Mr. Waters, I appreciate your help.”
She was already taking things out of that black leather bag she carried, setting them on the desk. There was nothing else in this small space but a chair. She pulled out a laptop, a slim silver one that looked expensive and a stack of files. Nash hated paperwork. He preferred working with his hands whether he was drawing designs or building a bike, that’s where his passion was.
“No problem. Tell me something,” he continued, acting on a hunch. “Is this audit going to help keep the dealership in business?”
Her head snapped up so quickly Nash wondered if he’d insulted her in some way.
“Why would you think the company is going out of business? Is there something I should know?” She clapped her lips shut quickly and then shook her head. “I mean, I am here to go over the financial stability of the company, yes, but if you don’t belong up here with the ‘fancy folks’ how would you know there is a danger of the establishment staying in business?”
She’d looked at him like she was actually perplexed. Nash tried not to be offended. “Just because I’m covered in grease and grime more often than not, doesn’t mean I don’t have any common sense. Bell’s gone and whoever he decided to leave this place to hasn’t cared enough to come by as of yet. So, I’m simply connecting the dots.”
“This is not a game,” she said stiffly. “This is a business and it is important that it remain open. So, I am going to do my job and I would appreciate it if you did not repeat any stories to the contrary.”
Crisp and concise. Confident and feisty. Cute and…off limits.
“I don’t spread rumors and I know firsthand how important it is that this place stay open. So, I’ll leave you alone to do your thing.” He could be cold as ice as well and he turned to leave the office.
But before he could make it all the way out, he stopped and looked back to see her easing down into the chair. “Call me Nash,” he told her and waited until she settled in the chair and raised her gaze to him. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”
The wiggle of his eyebrows may have been too much but that pretty little blush that appeared on her cheeks once more was quite rewarding.
Yeah, she was an attractive woman dressed in those neat and most likely expensive clothes that his dirty mechanic hands probably shouldn’t touch. And she was here to do a job, to keep this place open, which was exactly what he wanted. That all screamed off limits he didn’t dare go beyond, and yet as the day stretched on, so did the thoughts of watching all that prim and properness unravel the minute he got his hands, his mouth, and his tongue, on her.
Chapter 2
Mica
Her laptop was open to the spreadsheet she’d created for the dealership. It was almost a duplicate of the one she’d worked on last night for the household finances. Her father had been a semi-organized man, keeping his bills in a file cabinet even if they were marked paid or not. It had taken her hours to go through every bill in that old, scratched cabinet in a room that looked like he may have used it for his home office.
That room at the house was small, probably only a little bigger than the one she sat in now. Still, that one had a homey feel with its thick burgundy carpet and striped curtains at the window. This tiny office had no window and the floor was old, chipped tile. The desk and chair were utilitarian; however, Mica was not going to complain.
She was going to work, she told herself for about the tenth time in the last few minutes. There had been a couple of files she’d found in the cabinet of the home office that she thought pertained to the dealership, so she’d brought them along with her today. Flipping them open she began to read, inserting figures into the columns of the spreadsheet, where she thought they best fit. Income for Bellamy Motors consisted of bike sales and repair fees. A figure that so far appeared substantially lower than the expense columns. Mica wasn’t certain but the unevenness was more than alarming. It was, for lack of a better word, wrong. These new figures didn’t match the financial statements she’d read, even though these were worrisome as well. The bottom line was, there was no way this business could still remain functional today, if these figures were correct.
Sitting back in her chair she stared at the screen as if maybe her puzzled gaze would make the answer magically appear. Not a chance, but another man did show up at the door and Mica quickly came to her feet.
“I’m Earl Banyon, general manager,” he said, walking into the office with his arm and hand extended.
Mica shook his hand. “I’m Mica, the accountant.”
“I heard that lawyer sent you down here. I don’t know what for.”
His words were quick, and his tone was meant to be antagonizing. He was shorter than Nash. Not by much but still, shorter. His shoulders weren’t as broad either. Actually, he had a slim frame and the cheap dress shirt and khaki pants he wore were somewhat baggy. He had graying hair, thick, but a very dusty kind of gray that, paired with the leathery texture of his pale skin, created a look that resembled the villain in a horror film.
“Mr. Finksburg thought it would be a good idea to get a complete picture of the financial status of this establishment. My job is to prepare a full valuation and financial forecast for him.” She spoke as calmly as she could even though this man and his tone had immediately irritated her.
He shook his head. “I know every cent that comes into this company and goes out. All he had to do was ask me and I could tell him that we’re in trouble.”
So, he knew as well. She folded her arms over her chest. “If you could retrieve all of the bank ledgers, sales receipts, invoices and payroll reports, I would appreciate it.”
“You can just ask me what you want to know and I’ll tell you,” he replied. “I know about every bike in this place.”
