Mustang Sassy

by Daire St. Denis

  “No—”

  With a wobbly hand, Millie squeezed Sass’s. “Yes, she is.”

  Jordan’s eyes lit with some unholy light. Sass met his gaze. She was done with running away. She would prove to him, and to herself, that she could handle being around him. She would stay, but she didn’t have to enjoy it.

  Except that Sass did enjoy it. Jordan proved to be an even more patient art teacher than boxing instructor. He took his time with each and every resident, showing them tricks about perspective and guiding their hands, Millie’s in particular, when she became too shaky.

  “That’s not half-bad, Sass,” he said as he looked over her shoulder.

  “Are you kidding? I suck.”

  “No. Not at all, but here.” He moved closer to her, reaching over her shoulder and adding some lines to her portrait of Mrs. Schmidt. She could smell him, his freshly laundered clothes, his spicy cologne, his skin. She closed her eyes, trying to swallow down the longing his closeness evoked.

  “You see?” he whispered. “Hands and feet are hard. They’re actually bigger than we think they are.”

  She sat very still in her chair, doing her best to regulate her breathing.

  “Sass?”

  “Hmm?” His voice was so low and husky Sass had to press her knees together. She knew that tone. He’d used it before, at the cabin, in bed.

  “Open your eyes.”

  “Oh!” Her eyes flew open and her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

  “What do you think?”

  She tried to concentrate on her drawing, she really did, but Lord it was hard with Jordan so close. Squinting at her page she saw what Jordan had done. In a few strokes of his pencil, Mrs. Schmidt had gone from looking like a gremlin to a human. The portrait still didn’t resemble Mrs. Schmidt, but at least it looked like a person. “Yeah, that’s better.”

  Jordan’s hand lingered on her shoulder for maybe a moment too long. Sass fought the urge to grab it and move it—where?—she didn’t get that far before Jordan walked away to help someone else.

  …

  The next morning, Sass got to Hogan’s extra early. She had Jordan’s sketch out on the table, filled with small notes she’d made in the margins about the parts she wanted to use, how she’d fit it together, where she’d chop what. Then she started the list of parts she’d need. She was so absorbed by what she was doing, she didn’t hear Al come in.

  “Hey there Sass-parilla-by-morning. What’re you working on?”

  Sass glanced up. “Nothing.” She folded the paper and stuck it in her back pocket. “How you doing, Al-i-baba?”

  Al grinned. “I’m good, kid. I’m good.” He pulled up a chair and sat beside her as he flipped through the few sheets of work orders in the in-box. “You and boy wonder have done a hell of a job cleaning up the crap pile.” Al didn’t glance up.

  “Yep.”

  “There’s not much left to keep him busy. I can send him off on some errands to pick up parts for the next few days if you want.”

  Sass chewed on her thumb for a bit, considering Al’s suggestion. Her immediate reaction was to tell Al not to send Jordan because, strangely, she’d been finding it difficult to concentrate when he wasn’t around. On the other hand, she needed parts for her project.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” she said slowly. She jotted down a few items and passed the list to Al. “Add these , will you?”

  Al studied the page. Then he regarded her with a small smile on his lips. “What’ve you got cooking, Sassenheim?”

  Sass grinned and shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Okay, it’s something. But I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

  “A surprise?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  She grinned. “Maybe.”

  …

  Jordan had given up all pretenses of trying to be helpful around the shop. Everyone ignored him, no one wanted him there, and he didn’t exactly want to be there either. Not to work, anyway. There were only two things Jordan wanted to do. Sketch and watch Sass. He’d neglected to give her the half-dozen sketches he’d done that first day because he didn’t want to scare her off. He had no idea what it was, but there was something about watching Sass that inspired him in a way nothing else did.

  When he arrived at Hogan’s on Thursday, he had a couple of new sketches to show her; however, for the first time, she didn’t seem to care. She walked right past him without acknowledging him and disappeared into bay two as if she was never coming out again. An uneasy feeling settled in the bottom of his stomach. This was his last week. His last chance to try to do something about Hogan’s and he seemed further from his goal than ever.

  “You looking for something to do?”

  Jordan turned to find Al McGregor standing behind him, pouring his morning sludge.

  “I was just going to do some more work in the yard.”

  “I’ve got some stuff we need picked up. Parts. Here’s the list, here’re the locations.”

  Jordan stared at the list. It was two pages long. The locations seemed to be every town within a hundred-and-fifty-mile radius. Completing this list would take him the better part of the week. Dammit!

  “Are you sure you don’t want anyone else to go?”

  “Any reason you can’t?”

  “No.” Jordan shook his head, glancing in the direction of the door to bay two. “No. I can do it.”

  “Good.” He handed him the keys to a two-ton truck with a flatbed trailer hitched behind.

  Without argument, he climbed into the truck and planned out his route. Maybe getting out of the shop and away from Sass for a few days would be a good thing. Though the woman inspired him, it was also hell because the more he saw her the more he craved her. Every single one of his senses was tuned into her. The sound of her laugh that started high and ended low and throaty. Her personal scent, citrusy like orange blossoms, that was so refreshing amidst the odor of grease and dirt in the shop. The flash of her eyes, when she was trying to convince herself she still hated him.

  Jordan started the truck. Sass had many skills; hiding her emotions was not one of them, and there was a war going on inside her. He just hoped the right side won.

  …

  There was nothing like driving around with nothing to do but think to make a man lose his sanity. If Jordan thought taking a break would help control his obsession with Sass, he was sorely mistaken. The woman played the starring role in nearly every thought that entered his brain. He saw her in pose after pose, sanding an old frame, sitting in the grass with his sketchbook in her lap, sitting on the bench by the deck of the cabin, one knee pulled up, grinning at him…lying on the bed in a classic pose, completely naked, one hand just beneath her breast, the other flung up over her head.

  But it wasn’t just thinking about Sass naked that got his juices flowing, it was simply thinking about the woman as a whole. He was reminded of something Libby had said at the Pit that first day they’d met. Something about Sass living her dream.

  It was so true. She had the same sort of passion for cars he had for drawing. When he’d been sitting out in the yard, sketching while he watched Sass, the hours flew by. Was every day that way for Sass?

  Must be because he hadn’t seen her once since he’d been sent on this parts run. According to Carlos, she’d been closeted in bay two for the last forty-eight hours straight.

  It was late by the time he got back to the shop and he wondered if anyone would still be there. When he drove into the lot and saw the Camaro still parked out front, his heart dipped low in his chest. Of course Sass was still there. Good. Because after not seeing her for two days straight, he was determined to talk to her.

  After spending so much time fantasizing about her the last couple days, he could no longer distinguish between what he imagined was still between them and what her feelings might really be. However, after unlocking the employee entrance, the main shop was empty and th
e door to bay two was still firmly shut.

  What was she doing in there? Damn, the woman was driven but then, so was he and he wasn’t leaving until he saw her. After a quick trip out to his car to retrieve his sketchpad, Jordan sat down and let the pencil take over.

  …

  “What are you still doing here?”

  “Hmm?” He glanced up from his pad to see Sass standing there, wiping dust and grime off her face with the back of her sleeve.

  He tapped his pencil against the sketchpad and said, “I had something I needed to get down on paper before I could leave.”

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, she said, “It’s eight o’clock.”

  “It is?” Wow. Where had the last two hours gone?

  “Yeah.” She swiped at a strand of hair to get it out of her line of vision. Then she just stared at him.

  “Do you want to see?” He held up the pad.

  “Maybe later.”

  Sass stood there with her hand on her hip, studying him, her stance reminding Jordan of the very first day he’d met her, when she’d taken him to her cabin and studied him with that mixture of curiosity and confusion. Then she glanced back at the bay door behind her.

  “Before you go…”

  “I really want to talk…” The two of them spoke simultaneously.

  He took a step toward her. “Sorry, what were you going to say?”

  “I, ah, was wondering if you could help me with something?”

  “Sure.”

  He followed her back out into the yard. It was dark now and chilly outside, but the yard was lit by some powerful lights so that everything was illuminated. All the old shells. It looked like some ghostly car graveyard.

  “What do you need?”

  “We’re going to tow the Model A up to the door of bay two. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, and, Jordan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If anyone asks, you have no idea what I’m working on, okay?”

  “Okay. But, ah, Sass? What are you working on?”

  She winked. “It’s none of your business.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  As soon as he walked into the shop Friday morning Jordan was greeted by Alice, who gave him her customary wink and waggle and then told him that Buck was expecting him in his office. Jordan wandered through the shop, trying his hardest not to let on that he was looking for Sass. It didn’t matter. She was nowhere to be seen. Probably still ensconced in bay two with her mystery project.

  Closing Buck’s door behind him, Jordan stood against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for Buck to begin.

  “I had a call from your father.”

  “Yes?”

  “He’s offered me shares.”

  “Good.” He’d told his father to call Buck after overhearing the conversation about Dex Whelan.

  “So Al’s right about you. You are here to spy.”

  Jordan laughed. “Come on, Buck. I’m not stupid. You had that conversation in front of me on purpose. You wanted me to know what Dex offered so that Carlyle’s would up their offer.”

  Buck propped his massive forearms on the desk. “This is my life’s work. My legacy. I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not committed either way.”

  “Okay.” He pulled up a chair and sat down. “You’ve known our family for years. You know how our shop runs. All that stuff that happened last month? That was my fault. Mine. Not Carlyle’s. I made the mistake.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “As far as your daughter goes…” Jordan scratched the back of his neck. “I care about her. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her.”

  “Let’s leave Sass out of the discussion.”

  Jordan sighed and got up. “Have you ever made a mistake, Buck? Have you ever done something you wished you could take back?”

  Their eyes met across the desk. “Yes,” Buck said, quietly. “I have.”

  …

  Sass needed help. If she was going to get this car finished in the impossibly short amount of time she had left before Buck’s wedding she needed all the help she could get. On Saturday, she was so desperate, she even considered calling Carlos in from his day off because both Al and Manny were busy. And Buck—well, who the hell knew where Buck was? With Mary-Lynn around, he’d gone AWOL. Not that she could ask for his help anyway, the car was supposed to be his surprise. That left one option.

  Jordan.

  Why did the thought of getting help from Jordan make her feel so damned…excited?

  Because you don’t just need his help. You want it.

  Shit. She couldn’t pretend she was mad at him anymore. All this avoiding took too much effort when all she really wanted was to hang out with him. Sass just hoped he hadn’t left yet on the wild-goose chase that Al had created for him. Thankfully, she found him, seated at the workbench, going over some hot-rod mags, the sketchbook he never went without close at hand. She tried to peek at what he was working on over his shoulder, but Jordan must have heard her because he closed the sketchbook up quickly before turning around.

  His smile melted her from the inside out and she covered up her answering grin with a smart-assed scowl. “Don’t you have parts that need picking up?”

  “Nope. Finished everything up yesterday.”

  “Oh. Well, in that case, I suppose I could use your help.” She may have forgiven him, but that didn’t mean she had to let on how much she needed him. His help, that was.

  Surprise flashed across his features but then he jumped to his feet, tucked his sketchbook under his arm and followed her into bay two. Once inside, he stopped, like some big marble statue, and stared. “What are you doing in here?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Well,” Sass began in a hurry, moving as far away from him as she could, “Al helped me section the body of the roadster and marry it with a set of American Stamping ’32 rails.” She pointed to the corner where the remains of the F1 sat. “I chopped the truck roof, split it, and took out a section and welded it back together. I’m going to use the Model A trunk and doors but the parts needed some major adjustments.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jordan turned slowly as he surveyed the bay. “What are you doing about the engine?”

  “Al’s got a spare ’59 Cadillac 360 he said he’ll adjust and fit to the body of the roadster.” Sass could already imagine the engine in place, the chrome buffed to a polish and the funky clear-capped regulator that would look so cool.

  After a moment of silence, Jordan said quietly, “You’re building my car.”

  “Yeah, well, trying to. But it’s never going to get finished in time if I don’t get some more help.”

  “In time?”

  “For Buck’s wedding.”

  “And you want me to help?”

  Sass chewed on her thumb. “Yeah. But that’s all, okay?”

  “What do you mean, ‘that’s all’?”

  “I’m not asking for anything else, got it?” She approached him and poked him in the shoulder. “I just want your help. With the car. Nothing more.”

  Jordan gazed down at her with that look in his clear blue eyes. “What makes you think I want to do anything besides help with the car?”

  “I know you, Michaels. I know that look,” she pointed at him accusingly. “I know your tricks. I will not make the same mistake twice.” Such a liar!

  “Well you don’t know me very well, because you keep calling me by the wrong name.”

  “Old habits die hard.”

  He moved so close she could practically taste him. “Yes they do, don’t they? But you know, Sass, some old habits aren’t so bad. If I remember correctly, and I think I do, some old habits were really, really good.”

  “Back off, Carlyle,” she growled, her body trembling with his nearness.

  A slow smile spread across his face. He leaned down as if he was going to do something real
ly nasty, like kiss her. Sass should have backed off or smacked him. But instead she just stood there, staring into City-boy’s eyes. Feeling woozy and tingly.

  It was Jordan who moved away, not her. Though he didn’t go very far. “Fine,” he whispered. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I—” Sass cleared her throat. “You’re, ah, pretty good with the, ah…sander now.” She turned and pointed at the truck roof. “See all these rough spots where I’ve welded parts together?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want you to sand them down until you can’t tell it was two pieces. Think you can do that?”

  He grinned. “Yeah. I think I can.”

  …

  Sass should have just slept at the shop, because by the time she got there Sunday morning, she’d only had about four hours of sleep. After ordering Chinese food for supper, she and Jordan had stayed at the shop until almost midnight. The guy didn’t know shit about putting cars back together, but he was strong, he was a fast learner and helpful. The best part about working with Jordan was he didn’t feel threatened by her and try to contradict her. It was only when she started talking about the fenders she was going to create out of sheet metal that he disagreed with her. She wanted to keep the classic look, but Jordan seemed to have other ideas.

  “The whole point of this car is taking pieces from different eras,” he’d said.

  “But the fenders you have on here are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. They’re too modern.”

  “That’s the idea,” he insisted. “Past, present, and future.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. The ones you want to do just won’t look right.” He sketched the fenders in that she’d told him about. Sass couldn’t believe it. He was right. There was something off with the car when it had her fenders.

  “You’ve got to do something like this.” He showed her the original drawing and then modified it ever so slightly so that it incorporated some of the sweep of the fenders she wanted but still stayed true to his original concept.

  “How did you do that?” Sass stole a glance at him and was shocked by what she saw in his face. It was like looking in the mirror. He stared at his drawing like he was listening to it whisper secrets to him. That’s how she’d felt when she’d worked on the ’Vette.