“Tyler, shut the hell up. Listen mister, I don't know who you are, and I don’t care. I’m the manager around here, and I say we're closed.”
Adam looked him over with distain. “Here’s a news flash for you. I'm the new owner, and I say you're fired. Pack up your stuff and get out.”
Gene's mouth dropped open, causing his double chin to double in size. “You can't do that. Mr. Howell said–”
“Mr. Howell died last week. I'll give you five minutes to get your stuff.” Adam turned toward the young man who’d pumped the gas. “You, kid, come here.”
The young man hurried across the dusty room, pulling off his ball cap as he moved. “I tried to tell you, Gene. They had me fill their car with gas. He might want to pay.”
“Shut up, Tyler,” the man said as he slammed his coveralls into a bag and grabbed his lunchbox. He turned to Adam. “And you’re gonna find out it’s not so easy to run this place without me. Things happen, you know?”
“That sounds ominous. What kind of things?” Adam said.
Gene’s smile was filled with animosity. “Never you mind,” he said then turned and hurried out the door.
Adam turned to the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Tyler, Tyler Johnson, sir.” The tone in his voice made it clear he didn't want to get fired like Gene, and he thought it a real possibility.
“Well, Tyler, how bad do you want to continue working here?”
“More than anything,” Tyler said.
“Okay, do what I say and you will be outside attendant. You will run when a customer pulls up to the pumps. You will be polite, and you will always wash the windows and check the oil. Is that clear?”
Tyler's head nodded like a bobble head doll.
“Will you ask the mechanic in the garage to come in here?”
Tyler took off for the other room.
The man who’d been playing cards with Gene was built like Danny DeVito, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt and what hair he had was slicked across the bald top of his head. While waiting, he’d busied himself stacking the cards, cleaning the table.
When the mechanic had joined the other men in the office, Adam looked at each one in turn.
The newest arrival wore greasy coveralls. He was medium height and lanky and leaned against the counter at the back of the room, watching the situation play out.
Adam looked at Tyler who was leaning against the counter beside the new mechanic, trying to mimic the older man’s posture. “Tell me about these two.”
“That’s Shorty,” he said pointing to the card player. Then looking at the man beside him, he said, “and this is Red.”
“You’re both mechanics?” Adam asked. Red gave one short nod while Shorty started across the room to shake hands.
“Tell me, Tyler, which mechanic do you want to work on your car?”
Shorty stopped mid-stride, his hand still held out.
Tyler's face screwed up as he tried to formulate the right answer. “I don't have a car, sir,” he whispered, staring at his scuffed boots.
A smile was working at the corners of Adam's mouth, and he didn't dare look at Rose for fear she’d snort out a laugh. “Okay, let's pretend you’re going to get a car, and it will need some work. Which of these guys would you pick?”
“Can I get a pickup? I always wanted a truck.”
“Ah, don’t listen to that boy. He ain’t got the brains God gave a turkey,” the short man said, cutting off Tyler. “I’m Stan Herndon, but all my friends call me Shorty. Do you need some help with that little car out there? Geos are my specialty.”
The man in the back of the room kept silent, letting Shorty ramble.
After giving Shorty several minutes to blather on about every unimportant thing, Adam turned back to Tyler.
“So who works on your truck?”
“If I ever get a truck, Red is going to teach me how to take care of it. He's already shown me how to change the oil and the spark plugs on the old Chevy out back. Red knows everything about cars, sir.” Tyler turned and smiled at Red.
“Good. That answers my question.” Adam glanced around the office and noticed a broom leaning in the corner. “The first thing I want you to do is clean this room and keep it clean. Windows too.”
Tyler saluted. “Yes, sir,” he said, and he grabbed the broom.
“What do you want me to do boss?” Shorty said.
Adam looked him in the eye. “I want you to do the same thing Gene’s doing. Get your stuff and get out. This station can only support one mechanic, and that would be Red.” Adam started to walk toward the man at the back of the room.
“But I need this job,” Shorty begged, his voice rising to a whine.
“There is no job, but because you didn't insult me, I'll give you two week’s severance pay. You can pick it up tomorrow.”
“Wait, I’ll work harder. You just don’t see all the things I do around here.”
“If you want the extra pay, you’ll leave now and quietly,” Adam said.
Shorty stalked off. “Son of a bitch. This was the best job I ever had.”
Adam pulled out a chair at the table the men had vacated and waved the last mechanic over. “As you probably heard, I’m the new owner, Adam Cameron.”
“Red Granger. Nice to meet you Mr. Cameron.”
“Red, huh? Well, welcome to the new and improved Red's Garage. This is Rose Wajnowski. She'll be coming in to check on things once in a while,” Adam said.
Red grinned and shook Rose's hand. “It's about time. I wondered what was going on around here. It was like they wanted to run this place into the ground.”
“Does seem like that, doesn’t it,” Rose said.
Red indicated the boy with a short nod. “Tyler’s a good kid.”
“I can see that.” Rose turned to Adam. “That went better than I thought. We just cut the expenses in half, and it won't make any difference at all in the performance of the station.” She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “The sales might even go up when people realize how much the Tullyville Garage has improved.”
Adam turned to the mechanic. “Red, do you think those two would try to sabotage this place?”
Red shook his head. “I wouldn’t put anything past those two monkeys. They would cheat their mama’s if they thought there was a dollar to be made, and they wouldn’t have to work to get it.”
“Keep an eye out,” Adam said as he shook Red’s hand, preparing to leave. “Don’t be afraid to call the cops if you even suspect they’re up to something.” Adam stood and pulled out his wallet. He scribbled some numbers on a scrap of paper. “Here’s my cell number and Rose’s. Call if you need anything.”
“One down, four to go,” Rose said as they headed back to business central, Rose’s house. It was time for a nap to get ready for the show tonight. They were both exhausted from lack of sleep and mental strain.
Rose fell face down on her bed and was sound asleep within minutes.
Adam wandered through the house. Even though he was dog-tired he couldn't stop his mind from racing. Finally, he pulled off his boots and climbed onto his bed.
Was he doing the right thing? He'd committed himself so there was no way out now. He closed his eyes, seeking relief from the burning, and ran the events of the day through his mind—again. He’d been pleasantly surprised at the service station. The possibility of making money soon and without much expense was there.
But it was only one business out of five, and the easiest one at that. What had he gotten himself into?
Chapter Seven
Adam woke to inky darkness. What the hell? He snapped on the lamp, and squinted as the bright light hit his eyes. Hurrying down the hall, he opened the door to Rose's room. If she overslept she’d miss her show, but as he stepped into her room, he saw the bed was made and the room empty.
Damn. He hurried to the front door and looked out to see no Miss Cool. He was the one who’d overslept, and Rose had driven to the sta
tion by herself. Hurrying to the kitchen, he looked at the clock. It was ten minutes to midnight. Rose was halfway through her show.
Without wheels, he was stuck at home. Two and a half hours left to worry.
Adam flicked the dial of the blue, plastic radio on the top of the refrigerator, and Rose’s voice poured from the small speaker. At least he knew she’d arrived at the station, but it was the drive home that had him worried. He fixed a sandwich he didn’t eat and began wandering through the house, checking out the pages Rose had taped in every room. She had big dreams, did Rose.
All the rooms pictured were warm, welcoming with either a Victorian touch or Cowboy theme. Personally, he liked the ranch style. The one surprise was the picture in her bedroom. Holy shit!
This was one side of Rose he hadn’t known existed. The bed had octagonal corner posts a foot thick with pointed arches between reminiscent of a gothic cathedral. The spread was dark purple and the walls medium gray. A medieval castle would be the perfect setting for the room.
As he pondered which part of Rose’s brain chose the dark room, he heard the front door opening.
As he hurried down the hall, there was Rose looking rumpled and sleepy, soft and warm, and very kissable. She smiled and used his words against him. “Honey, I'm home.”
He rushed across the room and took her by the shoulders. “Why didn't you wake me? You shouldn't be driving out there by yourself in the middle of the night.”
“Adam,” she said through a yawn, “I've been driving myself in the middle of the night for over three years. It's my job. What's so different now?”
He didn't stop to think before he answered. “I'm different. I worry.”
At the confused look on her face, he stopped and thought about what he'd said. He wasn't accustomed to worrying about anybody. He'd been alone so long, this was a completely new sensation, and he didn't think he liked it at all.
“You needed sleep more than I needed a chauffeur,” she said, an almost giggle warming her words. “It would have been more dangerous having you drive while you were sleep deprived than being attacked by a wandering mad man. Make that a wandering alien.”
“You still should have woken me up,” he said, irritation modifying his voice like a rained-on cat. “How was your show? You look shot.”
“Thanks, you look great too, and the show was fine,” she said. She'd steered the conversation away from anything personal. Intentional or not, the tension eased from his shoulders. That seemed to work best for them, keeping things on a professional level.
“I'm going to get my beauty sleep now, and when I wake up, we'll decide what to tackle next. Good night, Sleeping Beauty,” she said stretching up onto her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Heat rushed through his veins, and instinct had him pulling her against his chest. A simple kiss on the cheek had him reacting like a horny high-school boy. Stop it, his mind shouted. I can’t get involved with this woman, with any woman.
Fighting his desire, he stepped back, ending all contact. “Get some sleep, Rose,” he said before turning away. Away from Rose, away from desire, away from what he’d never had.
He strode over to the packet of papers on the table and spread them out. The back of his neck prickled, and he resisted the urge to turn and tell her to stop staring at him. When the bedroom door finally closed behind her, he exhaled a frustrated breath.
Adam poured through paper work all of the night and most of the day. He absently took a sip of coffee and grimaced. Drinking lukewarm mud would almost be an improvement. It was two in the afternoon, and he’d been at this off and on since Rose had come home at two-thirty this morning.
The work had taken twice as long as it should because his mind kept wandering back to the kiss. A simple kiss on the cheek that had his brain reeling. If he’d just turned his head, her lips . . .
Once again, he slammed his thoughts back to the problem at hand. He was trying to decide whether to go to the motel or the flower shop this afternoon, when the sound of gravel beneath car tires broke into his thoughts. Within moments, soft knuckles rapped against the door.
Hurrying to open it so the noise wouldn't wake Rose, he was surprised to find Lillian standing on the small porch.
She was dressed in a short daffodil yellow skirt and cropped jacket. He still couldn't get over the difference from the first time he'd met her. Her streaked blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail with sexy little tendrils curling around her face.
Her smile was warm and inviting. “I found more paperwork in the office and decided to bring it over myself. I thought you were at a motel. I'm sorry if I disturbed you.” She stood with a briefcase in one hand and a file folder in the other, craning her neck to try to see around him. “Nice house.”
“Thanks for going to all this trouble,” he said as he held out his hand for the folder.
She stepped past him into the living room, keeping the folder just out of his reach. “My job is to help you. I'm your secretary. If you’ve got time, I found some things I think we need to go over. Do you have someplace we can sit down?”
Adam led her into the kitchen, and with a sweep on his hand he moved the papers to the back of the table. Lillian slid out of her jacket and folded it over the back of the chair. The scoop neck of her tee was low and tight enough to show off her best assets.
She pulled her chair up close to his, sat down and crossed her legs. Dragging his gaze up from the long expanse of legs to her chest and finally to the opened folder, he shook his head. Nothing like subtlety.
“I’ve been going over the books for the garage,” she said. She scooted her chair closer to his, so close her thigh pressed against his Wranglers. “In my opinion, we have too many employees for the amount of business they’re doing. We could do away with Tyler’s job, and that would save some money.” She leaned closer to point out Tyler’s payroll total. Her flowery scent was just short of overwhelming.
-#-
Rose woke groggy and cranky. Dreams had haunted her sleep and kept her from feeling rested. She wasn’t complaining. They’d been good dreams, great dreams. Hot dreams in fact, filled with Adam, but they were nothing but dreams and now she was suffering from lack of sleep.
She stumbled into the bathroom, scrubbed her face clean, brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her hair. To keep the unruly mess out of her face, she pulled it back with an old rubber band she found in the bottom drawer of the vanity.
A cup of coffee was what she needed, and now. Add a second cup to that and about another hour to fully wake up, and she’d be ready to take on another day.
Never Trust an Atom, They Make Up Everything was written in electric blue letters across the pale pink T-shirt she pulled from her drawer. Dressed in the shirt and pink boxer shorts, she wandered down the hall toward the kitchen and caffeine.
The sight of Adam and a blond beauty queen sitting, heads together, at her kitchen table, stopped her in her tracks. The woman looked like she’d stepped out of a high end-clothing ad, and Adam, as always, looked like a Greek God.
Rose was turning, trying to get away when a soft voice called out. “Oh dear, I hope we didn't wake you.”
She was stuck. No graceful exit here, no way to go back into the bedroom and change into something nicer.
She stopped and stiffened. Why on earth did it even occur to her to change her clothes? What the hell was a strange, beautiful woman doing in her home? Shouldn't she have the right to wander around her own house without worrying about dressing for guests?
“Oh, hi, Rose,” Adam mumbled. “This is Lillian. Lillian, Rose.”
Shifting closer to Adam, Lillian said, “We were going over some business.”
Adam ran his finger down a row of columns as he spoke, not looking up. “Lillian was good enough to bring over more of the paperwork she found.”
Rose stalked to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. She leaned on the counter and took her first sip. It was stale and strong, just the way she liked it
. Well, she didn't like it that way it just seemed like that was the only kind of coffee she ever got, and it was better than nothing. She looked at the two golden heads so close together and ground her teeth. “Have you found anything new?” she asked, trying to be polite.
“Lillian ran the numbers and found there are too many employees at the garage.”
“Really? What a find. You are a treasure, Lillian. What would Adam do without you?” She managed to keep her voice calm as she walked to the other side of the table and sat back in a chair.
“I'm just doing my job,” Lillian said primly. “I spent all last night going through the office files when I finally found this.”
Rose snorted coffee out her nose, inhaled and went into a coughing fit.
Confused, Adam reached over to pat her back. When the fit stopped, he stood and grabbed a rag from the sink.
As Adam rinsed out the rag, Lillian gave Rose a look that would have killed a lesser woman, but her voice was low and sugar sweet. “Are you all right? Maybe you should go lie down for a while. Adam and I need some time alone to finish this.”
“Okey, dokey, take all the time you need. You being such a great help and all, I surely wouldn't want to get in the way,” Rose said then she strode out of her kitchen.
Retreating into her bedroom, she began jerking open dresser drawers. Throwing on her old green Henley shirt and a pair of jeans, she grabbed thick socks and a flannel shirt out of the closet. When she reached the front door, she stuffed her feet into boots and snagged her purse. Ten minutes later, she was still sitting in Miss Cool, who chose today to refuse to start. Again. She couldn't even make a dramatic departure.
That did it. No amount of pressure could make her re-enter that house while Lillian was there. It was a good thing Irwin only lived a mile and a half away. The walk would do her good. Kind of an enforced exercise program.
The walk was invigorating. Too bad the temperature was below freezing. Just as she was losing feeling in her fingers, she arrived at Irwin’s apartment building. The hallway was warm, but with the first knock, she realized rapping her knuckles on wood was the wrong thing to do with ice-cold hands.
Radio Rose (Change of Heart Cowboys Book 1) Page 10