7. Jim

Jim

I couldn't believe I'd just crashed the forklift. A slow crash, to be sure, but there was still damage. I couldn't decide if I was more irritated with myself or embarrassed that it had happened right in front of the woman I wanted to impress.

Way to look smooth, Alvarez, I mocked myself. Such an idiot.

It was completely my fault too. Instead of looking in the rearview mirror as I backed up, I was staring at Jordan, noticing how hot she looked when she got that stern boss look on her face. It had been impressive the way she'd dealt with the guy berating his coworker.

"Let's get you to the nurse," Jordan said, breaking into my self-deprecating thoughts. "Can you walk?"

She seemed concerned about me, which I didn't mind at all. Her green eyes were darkened with worry as she scanned me, looking for injuries.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Nothing was hurt but my pride. I hopped down, then walked around to survey the damage. It didn't look too bad, but management was still going to be pissed, especially David Weston. That guy took every workplace accident like it was a personal insult.

Speaking of piss, they were going to drug test me now too. It was standard procedure when there was any kind of accident on the job site. Not that I had anything to worry about, the only thing I'd ingested today was black coffee.

"Okay let me go with you to the nurse's office in case you feel dizzy or something," Jordan said, sounding concerned.

She was standing close enough to me that I could smell her shampoo. It was something citrus. I was feeling perfectly fine and could have gone by myself, but I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to spend more time with her away from the other guys. The nurse's office was way on the other side of the building, so we had a nice long walk ahead of us. Ignoring the stares from our coworkers, Jordan and I headed out of the work area.

"How are you settling in here?" I asked as we entered one of the long hallways that connected the work areas.

The hallways were mostly empty. The suits from the admin office didn't come down this way if they could help it, and with both the lunchroom and the locker room in the other direction, there wasn't much reason for any of the workers to come this way.

"I'm settling in just fine thank you."

She seemed a bit uncomfortable, looking down at the floor while she walked. I took the opportunity to check her out. As usual she was wearing faded jeans, a tee shirt, and work boots. It was basically our uniform here, but on Jordan the outfit seemed sexy. At least in my overactive imagination.

"I'm real sorry about damaging the forklift," I told her. "Don't worry, I'll be the one who gets in trouble, not you."

She looked at me in surprise. "I wasn't worried about getting in trouble, I was worried about you. You could have been seriously hurt. Thank God you weren't going any faster."

My heart warmed a bit at the attention. I'd been scheming ever since she got here to try to find a way to spend more time with Jordan and get to know her. Crashing the forklift seemed kind of dramatic, but clearly it worked.

I asked her a few questions as we walked, learning that she'd been born and raised in Michigan, and this was her first time living outside of that state. She told me she'd gotten a little too comfortable at her factory back home and was looking for a new challenge. I figured she must be good at her job if upper management recruited her to come here.

"Where are you staying?" I asked.

"I got a short term rental on the outskirts of town until I decide where I want to live long term," she shared. "It's called Glendale Heights."

"Glendale Heights?" I repeated. "That place is a dump."

Her head whipped towards me at my harsh tone. That was the thing about me – I was normally an easy going guy, but that didn't mean I wouldn't share my opinion on things.

"It's not so bad," she said. "I was surprised at how few rentals there are in town. But I only signed a three month lease there. I'm planning to find something nicer once I know the area a little better."

It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest that she move in with me, but it was probably too soon for that. I just needed to figure out how to convince her of what I already knew: she was the woman I was going to marry. Of course there was no way I was going to be able to do that here at work. Jordan was too much of a professional for that, and I had no desire to tarnish her reputation at work anyway. Some of the guys hated her for holding them accountable and would jump on any gossip about her to try to push her out.

"Let me know if you want someone to go with you to look at new places," I offered. "I've lived here all my life. You might talk to Weston too. His wife has a couple of rentals that are much better than where you're staying. She doesn't advertise because she prefers to get folks through word of mouth. My friend George's wife stayed in the apartment next door to their house when she first got to town a while back. It's nice, but if you stay there you're gonna have to see Weston on a regular basis, and that would suck."

Jordan laughed, a sweet tinkling sound that I loved.

"Thanks for offering to help and for sharing the tip about Weston."

We walked in silence for a minute or two as I screwed up the courage to ask her to do something outside the office. I hadn't been this nervous about asking a woman out since I'd invited Maisie Gavreau to accompany me to the senior prom. Not that I could make this a date – there was no way Jordan would agree to that. Fortunately, I had another idea.

"Hey Jordan, some of us are going to LJ's tonight for a drink after our shift. It's a great little bar just up the road from here where most of the crew hangs out. You should come with us. You could get to know some of the workers outside our team and maybe make some friends."

She looked a little conflicted. "I don't know."

"Come on," I cajoled. "At least come for one beer and meet my friends from the other sector. You'll love them. Besides, you can't spend all your evenings in your crappy apartment staring at the walls."

She looked at me, then back at her feet. I couldn't tell if my invitation made her feel uncomfortable, or if she was just shy or something.

"Well, okay," she finally said, "I guess I could have one drink with you guys. Thank you for the invitation."

"Great." I felt way happier than I probably should be over a simple group outing.

"As long as you pass your drug test, that is."

I could tell she was teasing, so I rolled my eyes.

"Believe me, I'm clean as a whistle, inside and out. I'm one hundred percent drug and disease free, and healthy as a horse too."

She shot me another look, probably wondering why I'd even said that. Good Lord, I had no game at all. She probably couldn't even tell that I was trying to flirt with her. Or maybe she did…

"Do you mind if I ask how old you are?" she asked suddenly.

"I just turned thirty-five a few weeks ago."

"So young," she muttered under her breath. It sounded like she was disappointed about it.

"Why, how old are you?" I asked.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not polite to ask a lady her age?" she teased, deflecting the question.

"I don't know," I said lightly. "I never had a mother. I grew up in foster care after my mama dropped me off at the fire station when I was just a little baby."

I'm sure that my mama thought I'd be adopted, but unfortunately back then a lot of families around here couldn't afford adoption, and the rich white people who did have money usually wanted a white baby. My mama had written my name on a piece of paper she'd tucked into the baby carrier she'd left me in, and best I could figure based on my last name and my light brown skin, I was mixed race, probably Mexican or something. I'd never bothered to do a DNA test to know for sure, but maybe I would someday if I got curious enough.

Jordan's face fell. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Forget I said that. I had no idea."

I touched her arm.

"It's okay, I grew up just fine without parents."

It hadn't been easy, but for the most part the succession of foster parents I'd stayed with had been decent people. I was luckier than most, I knew that.

We walked in silence for a few more minutes before she said, "I'm forty-three."

"You don't look forty-three," I told her.

Her green eyes cut in my direction again. "Thanks."

Jordan's hand moved up to smooth her hair and for some reason I had the impression that her question about my age was more about this attraction between us than anything work related.

"You're only eight years older than me," I pointed out, as if the woman couldn't do the math herself.

"Our ages don't matter, we're just coworkers," she said, but I had a feeling she was reminding herself as much as me.

I'd watched Jordan a lot over the last week. She was firm, fair, and completely unflappable, no matter what kind of bullshit people threw at her. I'd seen her take a lot of shit from the good old boys on the team who were pissed that they lost their special treatment, and she never did so much as bat an eye. The only time Jordan seemed a little nervous or unsure of herself was when she was around me, and I had to think that meant something.

We reached the nurse's office, and I gave the lady a quick run-down of what happened. Jordan stood in the corner as the nurse examined me, at least until I lifted my shirt so the nurse could listen to my heart with the stethoscope.

I watched as Jordan stared at the ridges of my abs, her face turning the cutest shade of pink. Now that was interesting.

"I'd better get back out on the floor," she said quickly, avoiding looking at me. "I'm glad you're okay, Jim. Just don't forget to file an incident report for management."

"I won't. But I'll see you soon," I called as she hurried out of the exam room. "Don't forget, you promised to join us for a beer."