Hard to Fight - Bella Jewel Page 0,87
firm tone, stepping past him.
I enter the garage just as Jace, Oscar and Matty come in. They’re always on time, each and every one of them. I’m grateful for that. Jace strides over, wearing his favorite pair of coveralls, which believe me, do not take away from his masculinity one tiny bit. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and plants a loud, smacking kiss to my forehead. “Mornin’, sunshine, you look like crap.”
I smile. “Thanks, and you look like farmer Joe.”
He steps back, hooking his thumbs through his coveralls and grins. “You like?”
“Not even a little bit. Better not let your ladies see you in those, you’ll go from hot to … well … not.”
This is a lie. Women would probably throw themselves at his feet if they got a look at him in those coveralls with his long dark hair curling at his neckline and those bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief. Farmer Joe, eat your heart out.
“I always knew you thought I was hot.”
His grin gets bigger. I roll my eyes.
“How you got that out of what I said is far, far beyond me.”
“Morning, Quinnie,” Oscar says, winking at me. With his salt-and-pepper hair, he’s far more worn-out looking than Lenny, but he’s got the sweetest green eyes. “You do look like shit.”
“Come on, guys,” I protest. “You’re killing me here. Can one of you tell me my hair looks totally rad? Please? Hell, just lie to me and we’ll be cool.”
“You look like a sweet sugar pie,” Matty says in his Texan drawl, which I absolutely adore.
“Now you nearly made that believable.” I grin.
He chuckles. Matty has only been in Florida for the last four years, before that he was a Texan boy through and through. He’s going to be handsome as all hell when he fills out from that young man to an older, more mature man. He’s got sandy blond hair and hazel eyes. His face is handsome, yet sweet and there are a good lot of girls who want to get their hands on him.
“What’re we pulling in today?” Lenny asks, coming up behind me and resting his hands on my shoulders.
“We need to move what’s already in here and then bring in as many more as we can get through before closing.”
“I’m on it,” Oscar says, disappearing into the office to collect the booking information schedule.
“I’ll do the little sedan,” I say, nodding to a red sedan that’s without its tires in the corner. “Tell me what it needs.”
“The alternator has shit itself,” Lenny informs me. “Got all the parts ordered in and ready to go. Also got some new tires for it.”
“Cool,” I say. “Well, let’s do this.”
I disappear into the office to get my things and then head into the female bathroom to put on an old pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved button-up shirt that’s seen better days. I quickly change, rolling up the sleeves on the shirt and lifting my black hair into a high ponytail.
Then I dare to look in the mirror.
I don’t like what I see.
They’re all right. I look awful. My eyes, which are usually dark brown, are bloodshot and there are some serious dark rings under them. My hair, black as the night, is limp and gross. I look drawn out and tired. I splash my face with some water and slap my cheeks a few times to give them color before heading back out to get started on the day.
I slide right on over to the car that will occupy my morning and get it raised up so I can slip underneath it. I get down to work and listen to the guys chatting casually as I do. The radio is playing through some speakers that are mounted on the walls, and every now and then one of the guys will laugh loudly, which always brings a smile to my face. They’re a dream to work with.
I finish the red car in about two hours and move on to replacing a few batteries and doing a few general services on some others that come in. Then I get to work helping Lenny fix the body of a car that has been in a serious accident. It’s not easy when there’s so much damage, but I do love replacing old parts with the new. It seems to give the cars a fresh vibe that most people are happy to drive away with.
“Yo, Quinn!” Jace calls just after lunch, when I’m head deep in