Mustang Sassy (11 page)

What the hell! He didn’t sound sick, but then Buck had never sounded sick, even when he’d had the flu and run a temperature of one hundred and three. She would have called him immediately, if he was a normal, modern man, but he wasn’t. Buck didn’t believe in cell phones, and Sass had no idea how to get hold of him on the cruise. She didn’t even know what cruise line he was on. Shit. Talk about bad planning. The idea that something might happen to Buck had never even entered her mind. Or rather, she never allowed herself to entertain the idea because, if something happened to Buck, it meant she would be left totally and completely alone.

…

Tuesday morning, Sass sat in Buck’s chair and absently surfed the Net, checking out her favorite rod blogs. She’d finally talked Buck into getting a computer system but she was one of the only employees to use it. Today, however, she wasn’t paying much attention to the monitor. After Buck’s call, she’d barely slept and now felt like things were rapidly fishtailing out of control.

Her first thought was of Jordan Michaels. How could she have slept with him? The sexual release lasted all of five seconds. Now she felt worse than ever. To add to the mess, she was worried about Buck. What was he trying to tell her in that garbled message? Was he sick? Dying? What?

Then there was the car that was sitting in bay three. Jordan would soon be calling the police and that opened a whole new can of worms. Did she honestly think she’d be above suspicion after the scene between Carlos and Jordan in the bar last night?

Which brought her to her final problem. City-boy. What was she going to do about him? He was getting under her skin and into her panties way too easily. She had to get rid of him. But that was problematic considering she was doing the repairs on his car, which meant seeing him was inevitable and the minute she was near him her rational side went on holiday.

Damn! Life was complicated. And, one of those complications had just strolled into the shop as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Hey,” she called to Carlos as she walked toward him. “You’re here early.” She leaned against the doorframe to Buck’s office, watching him with wariness.

“With Buck gone, there’s a lot to do.” Carlos signed his time card and leafed through the work orders as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn’t started a fight with Jordan last night.

“What the hell was that in the bar last night?”

“Nothing, Sass. It was nothing.”

So that’s the way he was going to play it? Fine by her.

“Where’s the Mustang order?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Give it to me.”

“You’re not working on it.”

Carlos stuffed the papers back in the wall-mounted file holder and stared hard at Sass. “Like hell I’m not.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Rodriguez. The car’s mine, there’s plenty other stuff to keep you busy.”

Carlos walked straight up to her until he was standing close enough for her to smell him. She used to like his scent, a bit of musk, soap, and car grease all mixed together. But now, one whiff made her want to shove him away.

“The owner asked for
me
specifically.”

“Really? Last time I saw the two of you, you were brawling in the men’s room.”

Carlos laughed. “Sass, as much as you might wish otherwise, you’re a
girl
. You’ll never understand how men think. We’re like brothers, fighting one minute, comparing sex stories the next.” Carlos arched one brow meaningfully. Before she could say anything he continued, “Jordie wants
me
. You understand? He wants the best, and he’ll get the best.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Two things. First, while Buck’s gone, I’m boss, so what I say, goes. I’m doing the bodywork on the Mustang, end of story. Secondly, and really, most importantly, if
Jordie
wants the best, he gets me.”

Thank God Al chose that moment to come into the shop because Carlos seemed like he was about to lose it on her.

“Morning, Carlos. Heya, Sass-per-illa,” Al called out as he neared.

“Hey, Al-a-bama.” She greeted in typical fashion. “Have a good weekend?”

“Same old.” He went through his usual morning routine, filling in his time card and looking over the work orders as he poured himself the black sludge that masqueraded as coffee. “Carlos, give Manny a hand with Johnson’s Dodge. He wants to make sure there’s no crack in the frame. Then the side fender’s going to need to be replaced or patched.” Al tossed Carlos the keys from the pegboard. “Bring ’er into bay three.”

“I’ve got the Mustang in three.”

“Two then.”

Sass could tell Carlos wanted to say something, but Al had about twenty years seniority and was a close friend of Buck’s. If he wanted to keep his job, he’d keep his trap shut.

As soon as the side door shut behind Carlos, Al turned to her and motioned with his head to Buck’s office. She bit her thumb and followed him, feeling like she was seven years old and about to be reprimanded. She shut the door behind her and forced herself to look at Al.

“You two should never have gotten involved.”

“You knew?”

Al nodded. “How long is this hostility going to last?”

Sass shrugged as she continued to gnaw on her thumb. “It depends on Carlos. I’m over it; I don’t think he is.”

“You’re over it?” Al eyed her speculatively. Finally he moved away from where he’d been leaning against Buck’s desk, and propped himself up against the wall by the window so he could watch Carlos out in the yard. “Taking an iron to someone’s car is a serious thing.”

She almost fainted. Never in her twenty-three years had Sass ever felt light-headed and woozy like she did right then. “Wh-what?”

He turned to face her and said, “You heard me.”

“H-how?”

“I was just stopping by the Pit for a quick drink Saturday night. Heard a racket and followed it to the back of the lot where I watched you workin’ over that car.”

“Did anyone else see?” Sass didn’t even recognize her voice. Panic had a hold of her throat, squeezing until she could hardly breathe, and white dots clouded her vision.

Al shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone, but I can’t be sure.”

“Shit.” Sass slumped down into the chair facing Buck’s desk. She put her head in her hands, willing the nausea away. “It was an accident.”

“I’ve seen plenty of accidents. What you did didn’t look like much of an accident.”

She glanced up at Al and tried to smile but her lips weren’t cooperating. “You know what I mean.”

His jaw twitched. “Yeah, I do. But that doesn’t change things.”

“What am I going to do?”

“Far as I see it? You better tell that boy the truth before the cops figure it out. The last thing the shop needs is a lawsuit.”

Sass nodded.

“It looks pretty strange when some guy’s hot rod gets smashed up by the local auto-body repairman’s daughter. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes.”

“We won’t charge him, and we’ll reimburse him for his costs.”

“That’s what I was planning,” she said, keeping her head down.

“The cost of everything will come out of your pay. Buck didn’t raise you to be a hooligan.”

Her head bobbed up and down and her stupid chin quivered but there was no way in hell she was going to let anyone, even her dad’s best friend, see her this way. “I’m sorry, Al.”

Al came over and put his big ol’ hand on top of her head, just like he used to in the years after her mom died. “I know you are, Sass. You’re a good kid.” He sighed. “Buck didn’t raise no sissy. Besides, I know where that anger came from.”

“You do?” She pinched her nose to keep the tears at bay. As close as they were, to cry in front of Al was unacceptable. No one cried at the shop. No one. Sass wasn’t about to be the first.

“I’ll tell yah, Sass, you sure reminded me of your mother Saturday night.”

She couldn’t chance glancing up; otherwise the tears she was holding so carefully in check would fall fast.

“You’ve got her spirit. There’s no doubt about that. Why, I remember one night when Buck and I were playing poker at Eddie’s. You were just a baby, still brand new.” Al paused as if waiting for a response but Sass had nothing to say. She sat there, still as anything, her heart pounding so loud she could hear it.

“We lost track of time. It must have been going on two in the morning. Next thing we know your mother barges in with you in her arms. Your tiny face was red as a fire engine and you were screeching like a banshee—which is something you’ve done since the day you were born, by the way—and your mother dumps you in Buck’s lap, pulls a chair over, sits down, and says, ‘Deal me in, boys.’”

Sass’s quiet laugh sounded more like a sob and Al gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“She was so mad at Buck for leaving her home with a new baby, and, by the color of her cheeks, it looked as if she’d taken a turn at screaming herself. But, she played the hand, calm as you please. Won it even. Then, she scooped you up and marched right back out the door.”

Sass took a deep breath and touched her tongue to her dry lips. She sniffed and then said, “I never heard that story before.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “Buck doesn’t like to talk about her much.”

“I know.”

Keeping her head down, she whispered, “Thanks, Al.”

Al squeezed one more time and then left her alone in the office. That meant no one saw the tears that somehow managed to slide down her cheeks before she could angrily swipe at them.

She didn’t know how long she’d sat there before she heard a little tapping on the window of the door and a high-pitched voice sing out, “Yoohoo. Sass? Are you in there?”

Alice Larson, the receptionist, poked her head around the door. “There you are.” Alice was a contradiction of age and fashion. She must have been in her late forties, but she dressed in polyester pantsuits like a seventy-year-old. However, she almost always wore her auburn-dyed hair in a high ponytail, giving her heavily made-up face a much-younger appearance. “There’s a fella here to see you.” Penciled brows waggled. “A girl takes off for the weekend and all hell breaks loose. But I heard about Mr. Yummy. He’s got a bit of a black eye, but…what do you think?” Alice smoothed her hand over her lilac jumper. “Do you think he’d go for a slightly older woman?”

Sass stood up and said, “He’d be a fool not to.” She twisted her lips, attempting a smile. “Where is he?”

“Reception.”

“Thanks.”

Sass made her way to the front hoping she didn’t look as awful as she felt. But then again, she shouldn’t really care. There was nothing between her and Michaels. What happened last night was a one-time thing, never to be repeated. A mistake made in a moment of madness.

“Hey, Sass.” Jordan’s voice was neutral, maybe even a little cool when he saw her. Great, that would make things easier for her to pretend.

“Michaels.” Unfortunately, just seeing him in his well-formed designer jeans, his expensive button-up shirt and that square jaw of his made her pulse race. Somehow, even the black eye looked good on him. Made him seem rough. Damn. “I need to speak to you. In private.”

He cocked his head to one side as if she’d just propositioned him again. When he spoke he sounded pissed off. “Your place or mine?”

Sass wanted to cuss him out, but she was already in enough trouble. “This way.” She led the way back to Buck’s office, ignoring Alice’s ridiculous expression as she passed by. Once Jordan was seated, Sass closed and locked the door and sat down in Buck’s chair, behind his desk.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask yesterday how the car was coming along,” he asked.

“About that…we haven’t really started.”

“Why?”

“First…” She took a deep breath and then asked, “Have you been to the police yet?”

Jordan’s gaze left her face as he stared up at the ceiling and scratched the back of his neck. “Right. The police.”

“We can’t proceed until the damage has been reported. I suppose we could take pictures, but…”

“I’m not going to the police.”

Sass dropped the pen she’d been absently flipping around her finger. “What?” She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or…or…hell, she didn’t know what to think. “Why not?”

Jordan studied her for a moment before he said evenly, “I’d just rather not.”

Staring in open-mouthed confusion, a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Do you know who…?”

His shrug was so noncommittal that she realized then and there that Jordan knew. Of course. He’d only been in town a few days but he already understood her better than most. He’d seen how weird she’d been acting Sunday morning. There was no mistaking the similarity between Carlos’s Mustang and his and after last night’s little brawl, Carlos had obviously mentioned their history. Holy shit! He knew.

And he wasn’t going to go to the police. Why? Because they’d slept together? He didn’t have feelings, did he? No way. Impossible. A guy like him might hook up with a girl like her, but that was it.

Maybe he felt sorry for her.

Well, she wasn’t about to let him feel sorry for her. She wronged him and now for some reason he was going easy on her, but she’d make it up to him, not just by covering the costs, there were others things she could do to make his stay easier.

“This sure isn’t much of a vacation for you, is it?”

Jordan shrugged. “Not quite what I had in mind, no.”

“It’s going to take at least a week, maybe more to get all the parts and to finish up the car. If you don’t want to head back to Denver, I can offer up a semi-solution.”

“What’s that?”

Sass started to chew her thumb but dropped it because it was too raw. “I’ve got some wheels for you, a ’76 Camaro. It’s a beater, but it runs well.”

“Okay.”

“And, if you like, you can stay at the cabin. It’s not luxurious or anything, but it sure beats the Greenwood. It’s quiet, there’s a fishing boat, rod and tackle if you like to fish. The water’s still warm enough for swimming, we’ve got indoor plumbing now, so it’s…”

“I’ll take it. How much?”

“Nothing. It’s on the house, so to speak.”

Jordan stared at her as if for the life of him he couldn’t figure her out. “I have to pay you something.”