3. WrenchHammer

THREE

Wrench or Hammer

HAWK

T he shop is already busy. Flex, Decker, and Shooter are working on cars and bikes that need to be done today. We service all makes and models of cars and bikes, but love a good restoration of a classic. They may take months to complete, but the sense of accomplishment is a high unlike any other. I know my men, and they’re going to get these cars in and out quickly so they can get back to the fun stuff.

Meanwhile, I keep glancing at the clock on the wall: eight fifty-five. Where the hell is she? Technically, I told Etain to be here for nine, and when I texted Winger for an update, he didn’t respond.

I hear a clank on the floor where Flex is working on a Dodge Charger, then follow his gaze as Etain sashays through the bay door, wearing a slim fitted skirt molded to her frame and an emerald-green short-sleeve button-up shirt, looking extremely professional and very sexy, down to her three-inch kitten heels. Her hair bounces around her face as she walks through the shop, stopping just short of Flex.

“What’s up, Red? How can I help you?” Flex asks with a grin. The dumb fuck thinks he’s got a fucking shot in hell with Etain. I’m putting a stop to that right now.

“Flex, back to work. Ginger’s here to see me,” I tell him. My voice is curter than it should be, but I think I held my cool well considering I wanted to punch him in the face for the leering glance he gave Etain.

Etain sees me standing at the far end of the shop and comes toward me. Flex can’t help himself and takes another look as she walks away, his eyes on her ass, then gets back under the hood. I can’t say I blame him; Etain has a fine ass, and legs, and everything else.

“I told you not to call me Ginger,” she starts.

“I think it suits you.”

“And to think my parents agonized over what to call me, just to have you rename me,” she replies sarcastically. “Shall I get it officially changed?”

“No need. I’m the only one who will ever call you that,” I tease. She rolls her eyes, and I immediately want to haul her into my office, spread her across my desk and fuck her until I can’t walk. I nudge the door open and motion for her to step inside. I sense the other guys on the floor watching, but refuse to acknowledge them, stepping in after her instead.

It’s torture seeing how her skirt hugs her ass, my fingers itching to skim under the hem and inch it upward.

“Have a seat,” I say, tapping the backrest of the chair. She takes her seat, and I stand in front of her, leaning on the edge of the desk, bracing my hands on the wood.

“I’ve brought a copy of my résumé. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to add my last job. As you know, I haven’t had the opportunity to get settled, and this interview came out of the blue,” she says, handing me her neatly organized résumé, complete with plastic covering.

I pretend to scan her qualifications, but I already know I want her with me. It will be a bonus if she can get this mess of paperwork I’ve been drowning in organized and ready for the accountant. I’ve been putting him off for the last month.

“I don’t put a lot of stock in paper,” I tell her, waving her résumé, then setting it down on the desk. “This is the hell I’m in.” I point to several piles of invoices and packing slips sitting on the desk and filing cabinets around the room.

She gazes around at the clutter strewn about. She shakes her head and asks, “Don’t you have a system?”

“We started the garage two years ago. It was a slow go for the first few months, then it exploded. I can hardly keep up with keeping parts stocked and handling the shifts for all the men. It’s only gotten progressively busier, and customers come first,” I explain.

“And you didn’t think to hire someone before now?” Her voice rises an octave. “Do you even have accounting software?” She must see by my sheepish expression that I don’t. “It’s going to take over a month to go through all this and enter it into the database, then I’m going to have to match it to the bank accounts to make sure everything is accounted for.”

I can already see the wheels spinning in her head. “I’ll need you full-time, and I’ll pay above the going rate, plus expenses, but I need you to start immediately,” I say.

She looks at me, confused. “What expenses? Pencils?” She laughs. Her laugh is contagious, and I find myself laughing along.

“Whatever you need.”

“First things first, we need to buy software and install it. You do have a computer, right?” she asks, looking around the room for it.

“We all have laptops, and there are tablets at each bay. We mark down all the parts we use for each vehicle. I do the markup and labor and produce an invoice. I have everything we’ve invoiced in that cabinet, and all the bills paid in that one.” I point to the two filing cabinets at the far side of the room.

“I’ll need somewhere to work.”

“No problem. We’ll put another desk in here for now. We plan on expanding to the unit next door. We need at least two more bays to work on the cars, plus a few offices. Eventually, I’m going to need to move Drifter into solely doing the parts purchasing. I can’t handle it all on my own and also open another shop.”

“Another shop?” she asks. “Don’t you think it wise to see where you sit financially before investing in another shop?”

“Then you’d better get to work, because we have construction going on at the compound, and we have to finish that. The guys are cramped because they’re doubling up in rooms. They each need their own space, and that has to happen like now.” If I hear one more man gripe about sharing, I’m going to lose my mind.

My Redemption Riders have been patient, and they’ve been good to wait this long, but after two years, our patience is wearing thin. The parties on the weekends are a great distraction, but they always end with men fucking their biker bunnies in full view. That was fine when I was younger, but it holds no appeal for me anymore. And there’s no way in hell I would want to fuck Etain in front of the others. She’s mine and mine alone.

“When do you want me to start?” Etain asks, biting her lower lip.

“Now’s good,” I reply.

She smiles. “I need to do a few things today, but I can get the software you need. I can start tomorrow. I can be here for eight. Does that work?”

“Place opens early. I’ll be here,” I tell her. I don’t want her to go, but I can’t think of a single reason to keep her with me.

“I’ll fill out the paperwork tomorrow,” she says, rising to her feet.

“Paperwork?”

“For payroll and taxes. You must have those, right?”

“Somewhere in here.” I throw out my hand.

“Never mind. Once I’m set up, I’ll print out what we need, and we can have everyone fill out the forms; then, when the tax man comes calling, we can rest easy,” Etain replies with a sigh. She steps toward the door, then stops and pivots back to me. “I want to thank you for this chance,” she says. Her tone is soft and sweet. It’s even more adorable than her feistiness. “Yesterday was ugly, and you haven’t brought it up once.”

“Hey, we all have a past. For what it’s worth, I think he’s an idiot,” I say. She looks vulnerable and sad. I want to wrap my arms around her and make her feel better, but it’s too soon. I’ve met women who’ve been through a breakup. When I was younger and less concerned with anything but getting laid, I met a few who were out for a good time at the bar, and we’d end up in bed together. It could go one of two ways. They either hated themselves for going in too soon or ended up with them getting clingy as fuck, and I’d have to find a way to shake them off. The first kind I could deal with; I wasn’t looking for anything but a good time, and we’d both move on. The latter was far worse. My phone would blow up with texts and voicemails. They’d go from sugary sweet to crying binges. I’ve always tried to let them down gently, but it never worked as easily as I hoped.

I learned my lesson and have avoided those women like the plague, until Etain. I haven’t spoken to my men yet, but they’ll soon know that I plan to make her mine.

“I hope you realize that I don’t know a wrench from a hammer.”

I take in her elegant business outfit. “I think I got that, Ginger. I’m hiring you to be my office manager. If I find you under a car, I’m gonna be pissed. We keep this place immaculate, and we have the best equipment money can buy, but I need you to be careful,” I say very seriously.

“Gotcha. No wrenches or hammers,” she replies, giving me a wonky grin from the corner of her mouth that’s too cute for words.

I walk with her through the shop to the front and accompany her all the way to her car. I hold her door open, and she climbs in behind the wheel, exposing the skin of her creamy white thighs. I instantly go hard.

“I’ll swing by the store and pick up some of the office supplies I need. In the meantime, I’ll download the accounting software I’ll be using, and be here bright and early tomorrow,” Etain says happily.

“Bring the receipt, and I’ll reimburse you.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she jokes. I shut her door and watch her drive off. When I turn back to the garage, Flex, Shooter, and Decker are standing at the edge of the bay, looking on with expressions of humor and curiosity.