Dating the Billionaire's Granddaughter

by Remi Carrington

  “How did I what?” His piercing blue eyes made it hard to think.

  “Huh?” She couldn’t remember the last time attraction had rendered her nearly mute after only a few minutes of interaction, but she didn’t have time for flirting.

  “You started to ask me something.” He hit a button, and the garage door raised up.

  “My name. You said, ‘Whoa, Nellie,’ and I wondered how you knew my name.”

  “Hello, Nellie.” He stuck out his hand, looked at it, then pulled it back. “I’m Coop, and my hands are all grimy.”

  She eyed him. “Your patch says Logan.”

  One side of his mouth curled into a smile. “My parents named me Logan. Logan Cooper. My friends call me Coop.”

  “Well, Coop, my Jeep needs help. It made an awful noise and quit. I barely made it out of the street.”

  “What sort of a noise?”

  “A bad one. I don’t know. I just need you to fix it.” She checked the time on her phone, frustrated with the delay, knowing Grandfather wouldn’t accept any excuse for missing the meeting.

  Logan Cooper stepped out of the shop. “Let’s go have a look.”

  “Thank you. How quickly do you think you can fix it?”

  “I haven’t even looked at it.” He poked his head in the main door. “Cara, are you here?”

  A hand poked out of a doorway and waved.

  “She’s probably on her phone. Hiring her wasn’t my wisest move.” He shook his head.

  Nellie had heard the mantra from her grandfather time and time again: If they aren’t good for business, get rid of them. “Why do you keep her around?”

  “She’s my sister.”

  Chapter 2

  Coop didn’t have the luxury of studying the woman who’d demanded his help. But he’d seen enough to pique his interest. Dressed like a million bucks, she seemed used to having people jump when she spoke, which he found sort of amusing. Her dark hair and even darker eyes were a striking combination.

  He walked around the Jeep, the biting scent of burnt oil accosting him.

  “Look under the hood or something.” She waved toward the front end then went back to wringing her hands.

  He got down on his knees and looked at the undercarriage. “You have your oil changed recently?”

  “Yesterday afternoon, why?”

  That made him think the damage wasn’t minor. “The noise—was it a loud clunk?”

  “Maybe. More like a thunk. After the first big sound, I heard it over and over.”

  He shook his head, knowing he’d be giving her bad news if his assumption proved correct. “Let me get this into the garage and have a look before I diagnose it.”

  “How long will that take?”

  Frustration didn’t add the waver to her voice. The set jaw and wide eyes made him think fear played a role.

  What was this woman—who seemed used to having people jump at her command—afraid of? Was being late for a meeting that big a deal? Whatever it was, if Coop could erase that look from her eyes, he’d do just about anything to make that happen, which made absolutely no sense since he’d only met her minutes before.

  “Tell you what. Let me get this out of the driveway, and then I’ll run you to your meeting. While you do whatever it is you do, I’ll figure out what’s going on with your car.” He wasn’t sure she’d go for his plan.

  “Thank you. I would appreciate that. My boss isn’t a very understanding man.” She glanced at her phone.

  Mario and Seth honked and drove into the grass to get around the Jeep. It was kind of them to show up for work before lunchtime—or at all.

  Mario leaned out the window. “That doesn’t look good.”

  “You’re late.” Coop needed his mechanics to arrive on time if there was any hope of keeping the garage running.

  After parking, Seth hopped out first. “Sorry. Cara told you what happened, right?”

  Coop raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. There was no hope of a successful business with his sister as the office manager.

  “Is hell cold? Tell me later. I need you to get this into the garage, and I’ll be back to look at it. Do not start the engine.” He held out his hand to Nellie.

  She furrowed her brow and stepped back. “You’re giving me a ride. We aren’t dating.”

  “What?” He scratched at his beard, trying to make sense of the woman.

  The guys eyed Nellie, then shot a glance at Coop.

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not holding your hand.”

  He closed the distance between them, shaking his head. “I need the keys. The keys to your Jeep.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lower lip and handed over the keys. The hint of pink that spread across her cheeks made her the opposite of unattractive.

  Coop tossed the keys to Seth then pointed toward his old Ford. “Hop in.”

  “I need my purse.” She ran back to the Jeep and returned a minute later, jacket hanging over her arm, purse under her chin and a coffee cup in each hand. “Vanilla latte? I have an extra.”

  He grabbed the one without lipstick on the lid. “Thanks.” Hoping it didn’t get him a scolding, he opened the passenger door for her.

  She climbed in and buckled her seatbelt. “I appreciate this. The ride I mean.”

  “Of course. Just tell me where.” He glanced at her left hand, checking for a ring.

  A perfectly shaped, unpainted nail topped an empty finger, which was exactly what he hoped to see.

  The drive to her office didn’t take long, and she stayed quiet most of the way. When he pulled up in front of the building, she had the door open before he’d fully stopped.

  “You need my—um, do you have a piece of paper?” She pulled a pen out of her purse. “I need to give you my number.”

  Coop looked around the cab, which was uncharacteristically clean. “No paper. Um, this work?” He stuck out his hand.

  Eyebrows raised, she opened her mouth then snapped it shut, dropped her purse, and scrawled a name and number on his hand. “Nellie Davis, in case you can’t read my writing.”

  He read the number out loud. “I’ll be sure not to wash my hands.”

  She didn’t even laugh.

  When she glanced down at her clothes, he noticed the smudges and the coffee stain. “Sorry about ruining your skirt.” Focused more on keeping her from falling, he hadn’t paid much attention to where he’d grabbed her. His handprints left the tell-tale signs.

  She shrugged. “I should be out of my meeting by noon.”

  “I should know what’s going on by then. Need a ride? I can have Cara—”

  “No. I’ll manage.” She slammed the door and disappeared through the glass doors into the building.

  He watched her for only a second then put the truck in gear. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted her purse on the floorboard. He pulled into the nearest parking place and jumped out, the purse tucked under his arm.

  Just inside the double doors a security guard stepped in front of Coop. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m returning this to Ms.”—he opened his hand—“Davis. Nellie Davis. She left it in my truck.” He glanced up when he heard the click of heels approach.

  Her jaw set and her face the same shade of pink from earlier, she held out her hand. Tempted as he was to grab it—just to be funny—he didn’t.

  He handed over the purse. “I’ll call you.”

  Her eyes widened, the pink darkened, and she shot a sideways look at the guard.

  Coop realized how his comment must have sounded, especially after reading her name off his hand. “About your car, I mean. In the shop.”

  “Thanks.” She spun and marched away, his handprints swaying from side to side and a not insignificant slit flapping open with every stride.

  He opted not to linger until she disappeared from view. All the way to the truck, he chided himself and thought of all the ways he could’ve handled that situation differently.

  With her name bounci
ng around in his head and emblazoned on his hand, Coop drove back to the shop, replaying the interaction with Ms. Nellie Davis. Knowing he’d see her again improved the outlook for the day.

  Before he climbed out of the Jeep, he snapped a picture of his hand. He definitely didn’t want to lose that number.

  As Coop walked into the open bay, Seth tossed a wrench into the tool chest. “Who’s the woman?”

  “Just met her.” Coop lifted the hood on the Jeep.

  Seth leaned over Coop’s shoulder. “Ouch. That’ll cost her.”

  Coop’s guess was correct. Sans oil, her engine had thrown a rod. There was no fixing it easily. Well, it could be rebuilt, but that took time—lots of time. Coop didn’t like giving anyone bad news about their car, but he especially didn’t want to give her bad news.

  While Seth and Mario worked on the other cars, Coop wrote up a quote for repairs, hoping Nellie wouldn’t faint when she saw it.

  But if she did, he’d swoop in to catch her. Again.

  Chapter 3

  Nellie skipped trying to wipe the grease off her dry-clean-only skirt and hoped her jacket would at least cover some of it. Fifteen minutes late for the meeting, she braced for Grandfather’s disapproval.

  “So sorry I’m late.” She sat down in the empty seat next to Lawson. “How are you this morning?”

  “Better now that you are here. Reggie was saying that the figures weren’t adding up as expected. I’m happy to look into it with you. Over dinner maybe?” Next, Drew Lawson would be suggesting drinks in his apartment.

  There were lines Nellie refused to cross for business or for Grandfather. “I would like to go over them, and I have time now. I’m free until noon.”

  “I thought you were free all day. I made lunch reservations for the three of us.” Grandfather’s tone left no doubt that he expected her to change her plans.

  But, after the morning she’d had, she wasn’t bending to anyone else’s will. “The two of you can enjoy lunch. I’ll work through these numbers again and call if I have any questions, unless of course, you have some time now.” She stood, tapping her nails on the table.

  Drew let his gaze sweep over her and leaned back, probably trying to get a peek through her now-larger slit. She moved, and he stood and stepped around next to her.

  “I’ll stay for a bit.” He brushed at her hip. “Looks like you got a bit of something on you.”

  “Car trouble.” She dropped back into the chair. “Let’s start with the monthly projections.” After opening her laptop, she clicked on the projector.

  Keeping Lawson on task would take work, and if he touched her again, she might have to deck him.

  Three hours later, Nellie closed herself in her office and checked her messages. She’d told the mechanic noon, and he hadn’t called yet. Logan Cooper frustrated her almost as much as Lawson, but at least Coop could fix her Jeep, and that was what she needed.

  She buzzed her brother’s office. “Tanner, hey. What’s the name of that driver you like? I need a ride.”

  “Milo? Art, the guy that works for him is good, too.”

  “Either one. Send me the number.”

  “Sure.” Tanner ended the call.

  The knock at her door didn’t surprise her much. “Come in, Tanner.”

  “What’s wrong? You’re more—I haven’t seen you this wound up in a while. And I thought you were taking the day off.”

  “I was. Grandfather scheduled a meeting with Lawson and called me this morning, saying he wanted me here.”

  “Let me guess. Lawson suggested dinner.”

  “I guess he thinks if he asks often enough, I’ll eventually say yes.”

  “Please don’t. Need me to say something?”

  “No. I can handle him. And that’s gold coming from you. How is Angela?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Nellie knew when to back off. “Anyway, my Jeep died on my way to work this morning. Thankfully, I was right by a garage. I need to go back over there.”

  Tanner jumped up. “I’ll give you a ride.”

  Nellie didn’t want Tanner to meet Coop. She didn’t want the two around each other. More to the point, she didn’t want her brother to see her around Coop. “No thanks. I’ll use a driver.”

  “I think Milo is on a field trip with his girls. Call Art.” Tanner jotted down the number on a notepad. “Hope your Jeep is an easy fix.”

  “Me, too.” She picked up the phone to call for a ride.

  Art wasn’t anything like she expected. Young and handsome, he reminded her of Ernesto.

  Art tipped his hat and opened the rear door. “Hello, Tanner’s sister. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “You can call me Nellie. Thanks for coming on such short notice. You don’t have a cousin named Ernesto, per chance, do you?”

  “Ernie! How’d you guess?”

  “He’s my favorite barista.” Nellie loved that San Antonio was both big and small.

  Art climbed into the driver’s seat, laughing. “Maybe I’ll be your favorite driver.”

  “Maybe you will.” Her thoughts jumped to Coop and his truck.

  En route to the garage, Nellie used the few minutes to Google the name of the shop. She knew the location and Coop’s name, but little else. What if the place had horrid reviews?

  After a quick search, what she found didn’t surprise her. People loved the mechanics but had less favorable comments about the girl that worked the front desk.

  When the limo pulled into the lot and Coop stepped out of the garage, the same nasty rag in his hands, Nellie regretted not using a ride share. “Thanks, Art.”

  “Need me to wait?” He reached for the door handle.

  “No, and don’t get out.” She jumped out and closed the door, trying to figure out how to explain the limousine without sounding over-indulged.

  Coop grinned. “Wow. You own that company?”

  “I don’t. One of the execs recommended the limo service.” Everything she’d said was the absolute truth, which eased most of her guilt, but not all. She’d left out a few key details. “My Jeep?”

  He frowned, most definitely not what she wanted to see. After the limo pulled out of the lot, he motioned toward the door. “Let’s talk inside.”

  Nellie followed him in. “Give me the bad news without sugarcoating it.”

  “Best I can figure, when you had the oil changed, it’s possible that someone may have—I’m not sure, but it could be because—”

  “I get that you aren’t accusing anyone of wrongdoing. What’s wrong with the Jeep?”

  “They didn’t put it together correctly, and oil leaked out. That caused the engine to throw a rod.”

  “I’ll pretend I know what that means.”

  “The engine broke.”

  “How long will it take to fix it?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Weeks to rebuild the engine. I could put in a new one much faster.” Sliding the quote across the counter, he sighed. “Sorry it’s not better news.”

  She ran her finger down the page. “Go ahead and order the new engine.”

  “All right.” He glanced at the full bays. “I’d offer you a ride, but I can’t really leave just now.”

  “No problem. I’m going to sit here for a bit, enjoy a cup of coffee, then I’ll find a ride.”

  Only Art knew where she was, and given her mood, that suited her just fine. She turned off her phone, poured herself a cup of coffee, and picked up a magazine. Hiding wasn’t typical for her, but her curiosity about the blue-eyed mechanic paired with her exasperation with her grandfather made it a convenient and appealing option.

  Choosing a seat that allowed a view of the garage, she pretended to read while she watched Coop work. Blissfully quiet minutes ticked by.

  “That your Jeep?” Gum smacked between words.

  Nellie guessed the blonde leaning over the counter, blowing a bubble was the ever-helpful Cara.

  “It’s mine.”

  �
��It’s nice. Want to sell it? You know, since it’s really broken?” She tapped intricately painted nails on the counter.

  Coop made his way to the door, and Nellie timed her answer accordingly.

  The door barely open, she shook her head. “No, I don’t want to sell my really broken Jeep.”

  His blue eyes darkened and narrowed to slits. “You cannot do that, Cara.”

  “I heard you tell her the engine is a goner. Just figured she might want to get rid of it.” Cara rolled her eyes and huffed.

  Nellie figured she could be a little bit nice. “Who did your nails?”

  “Did them myself.” Cara disappeared into the back.

  “I am so sorry.” Coop crossed his arms over that chest. “Any tips on firing a sibling?”

  Nellie smiled, wanting to ease his obvious discomfort. “I’m not upset about it, but if she’s treating other customers that way, it can’t be good for business.”

  “Maybe I could introduce her to a royal prince who will sweep her off her feet and move her to Morocco.”

  “That’s your plan?” She laughed.

  “It’d be easier than letting her go, but Seth would hate me.” He checked the computer. “I’d like to pay for the dry-cleaning on your skirt. I feel bad about messing it up.”

  Leaning on the counter, she waited until he looked up again. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad your place was close when my Jeep gave up the ghost. And you gave me a ride.”

  “We give courtesy rides.” His fingers hovered over the keyboard, and he stared at the screen.

  She wanted to ask if he always gave the courtesy rides himself but stopped herself. Why did she care if he did or not? “I have a few more questions, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “You aren’t—what’s the question?”

  “I have more than one. First, what time do you close?”

  “Shop closes at five. I’m usually in the garage working until six, sometimes later.”

  “How long will the repairs take on my Jeep?”

  He glanced through the window in the garage, where ever bay was full. “Assuming we get the engine in tomorrow or the next day, I could have it back to you in three or four days. Things are busy around here, but I’ll push to get it done.”