Bitch.
A sound of disbelief seasoned with indignation hitched in my throat. Irritation lightened the lead in my lungs, burning it up with an irrepressible flare of resentment.
“Clearly I’m an idiot?”
“You sound like my parrot.” Another mumble.
All thoughts I’d had about not offending this woman vanished, chased off by her nasty words and my own exhaustion.
Finding my wits, I placed my hands on my hips and glared at her profile. “Who the hell are you?” It was a rare moment. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a spike in temper. I also couldn’t remember a time when a woman complained about my appearance or called me an idiot. Except my sister, but she didn’t count.
So. Yeah. There’s that.
Without deigning to look at me, she tossed out, “Shelly.”
“Shelly who?” My eyes flickered over the movements of her hands. “And why’re you working on Devron Stoke’s Chevy?”
“I’m removing the transmission to rebuild it.” She said this with a note of impatience, like I was wasting her time.
A low growl of exasperation came from my chest because of this bad-mannered woman and her non-answers.
“Listen, lady, if you know I’m Beau, then you know I own this here shop. So again, who the hell are you? And why’re you working on this car? And who gave you permission to be in here?”
Finally, her eyes cut to mine. And just like the first time she looked at me, my wits scattered for a split second. Luckily, she’d pissed me off enough that my anger prevailed.
Straightening once more, she pressed her full lips together. They were too big to form a flat line, instead, they thinned a trifle.
“I am busy. If you want answers, talk to Cletus.” She spoke slowly, like she truly believed I was an idiot.
Dammit, Cletus.
He better not have hired someone without talking to me.
“I will,” I growled, then turned from this vile person and prepared to give my brother an earful.
There was no way.
No. Way. In. Hell.
No way this woman was working at the shop.
Nope.
Never going to happen.
2
“The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend.”
― Robertson Davies, Tempest-Tost
* * *
*Beau*
“Who the hell is that woman and why is she using my socket wrench?” I demanded as I burst through the door of the second-floor office, finding Cletus staring at the computer screen.
Without looking up from his work, he responded in an infuriatingly even tone, “That’s not your socket wrench, it belongs to the shop.”
Seething, I lowered my voice. “Who is she?”
“She’s our new mechanic. Started yesterday.”
Our new . . . she what?
“What?”
Cletus swiveled in his chair to face me, bracketed his mouth with his hands, and lifted his voice to a near shout. “She’s our new mechanic and she started yesterday.”
“Dammit, Cletus. Quit your hollering. I heard you just fine. What I don’t comprehend is how it’s possible for us to have a new mechanic without me being consulted.”
His eyebrows pinched together as he inspected me. “You weren’t here.”
“So?”
“Beau, I can’t very well consult with you on matters when you are absent.”
“That’s bullshit.” My temper rose anew. “This shop is as much mine as it is yours.”
“Duane is leaving, Beau. He and Jess go off on their adventures in November.”
“I know that.” And I didn’t need another reminder. I understood his reasons, yet I wasn’t exactly thrilled about Duane leaving.
But I’d be damned if Duane’s replacement was going to be that nightmare downstairs.
“Then you know we need a new mechanic to take his place. We already have too much work between the three of us. How do you think it would be if you and I tried to manage on our own? The magic of math tells me we wouldn’t be able to keep up.”
“You can’t go finding a replacement for Duane without me getting a say.”
Cletus huffed, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s start over. Good morning, Beau. You look tired.”
“Did you hear me?”
“Why do you look tired? Didn’t you sleep last night? Have you eaten?”
Gritting my teeth, I breathed out through my nose.
My brother pointed at me. “You have a lady in Nashville keeping you up and not feeding you? Or maybe you didn’t feed her?”
He could guess all he wanted, but I wasn’t ready to confirm my involvement with Darlene, not with Cletus or anyone else for that matter. Not until she and I were on the same page.
Duane had his Jessica James. And now I figured I had my Darlene Simmons. Duane had pined for Jess since he was about fifteen or sixteen. Maybe a little older. I’d considered his single-mindedness shortsighted at the time. What on earth could be so remarkable about one woman? They all had the same parts, didn’t they?
Seeing Duane with Jess had sparked my curiosity. Going after Darlene had been the result, my attempt at getting serious. I was certain, as I put in the time and effort, I’d start feeling for her what Duane was feeling for Jess. But I wasn’t about to admit as much to Cletus. It wasn’t any of his business, the sneak.
“Whether or not I’ve slept, or with who, isn’t pertinent.”
“With whom—assuming it wasn’t an orgy—and it is pertinent, because you just came flying in here in a fit of temper. I’ve known you your whole life and I’ve only seen you in a fit of temper seven times, and most of those times were because you were hungry and needed a nap.” Cletus reached into a file drawer at his left, withdrew a protein bar, and held it out to me. “You know you get hangry if you don’t eat.”
I glared at him, then at the protein bar, and then at him again. He was right. I was hungry. I crossed to him in four steps and snatched the offered food from his hand.
“I might be hungry and tired, but that’s not why I’m mad. That woman,” I pointed to the door with the protein bar, “is not working here. I won’t allow it.”
My brother’s beard twitched near one corner of his mouth. “She’s an incredibly talented mechanic.”
“I don’t care if she’s Henry Ford’s great grandniece, she ain’t staying.”
“She’s not related to Henry Ford, as far as I know. Shelly is Quinn’s sister.”
“Who?” I stripped the wrapper away from the protein bar and my stomach growled loudly. I would’ve preferred a doughnut from Daisy’s, but this would have to do.
“Shelly—the talented mechanic you had the pleasure of meeting downstairs—is Quinn’s sister. You know Janie? Ashley’s tall friend from Chicago? With the red hair and the alarmingly thorough knowledge of trivia?”