Hard to Break - Bella Jewel Page 0,6
you into my garage, Tazen Watts? I’m sure people like you have plenty of better things to do than come into my old, fucked-up garage. Right?”
His eyes skim over my face and my skin prickles. “People like me, angel?”
He did not say angel in the loving kind of way this time.
“Yes, people like you. I understand my little space isn’t up to standards for a man like you, but you’re here and obviously you have a reason. I want to know what that reason is. The fact that you came in here, and insulted me by insulting my garage and assuming that I was a man has already pissed me off, so make it quick, will you? I have no time for sexist pigs.”
Now his brows shoot up. “Sexist?”
I lean in close. “Yes, sexist.”
“You have a name that can be read wrong, it’s hardly being sexist.”
He has a point.
I say nothing.
“Why are you here?”
He crosses his arms and it takes all my strength not to stare at the bulging muscles that pop out from that very movement. “I’ve heard this joint is for sale. I’m interested.”
Say what?
My body flinches and my eyes widen as I let his words sink in. For sale? No. He must have it wrong.
“I think you’ve misunderstood, Mr. Watts. This place isn’t for sale.”
“Tazen,” he says, his voice a low growl. “My name is Tazen, angel. Mr. Watts makes me feel, well, old.” His eyes drop to my lips. “And I can assure you that I’m far, far from old.”
I shiver, but manage to force out my next words.
“My place isn’t for sale, Tazen.”
His teeth flash as he smiles over my use of his name. I hold his eyes, my glare not wavering.
“You really are a tiny thing, aren’t you? This place is adequately named, wouldn’t you say so, Pixie?”
My blood boils.
“Don’t ever,” I growl, stepping closer, “call me that again.”
“I wonder,” he says, lifting his perfect freaking hand and scratching his chin. “How well you really run this place? I mean, obviously you’re not doing a good job … from what I’ve heard.”
I’m going to lose my shit in about three point five seconds.
“Tell me why the hell you’re assuming my business is for sale?”
“Your business?” he says, raising his brows. “I thought it belonged to Robert Peterson and you’re just filling in?”
“It does,” I say through gritted teeth. “But right now, he’s out of action so I’m running it. I’m his daughter.”
His eyes flicker over me, and I shift uneasily. “Well, it would appear you’re in some trouble then, wouldn’t it?”
“Hey,” Jace says, stepping into the office and up to my side. “Back off.”
Tazen gives him a bored expression, as if he’s no more than an annoying fly buzzing around in his space, then turns back to me. I get in before he can.
“You have your wires crossed, it is not for sale. Now, can you please leave?”
He looks up to the front door, then back to me again. “You’re in a prime position here, investors are piling up to take over this garage. It might be a shit heap but with a bit of money poured into it, it could be amazing. I have money and there are a hell of a lot of car enthusiasts around this area. Not to mention some of the biggest races around the world come here every year—it’s a gold mine and therefore a perfect location to open another shop of mine.”
A lump forms in my throat but I keep it together, saying dryly, “It is my garage and until that changes, you’re on my property and I want you to leave.”
He shrugs. “I’ll leave, but it won’t be for long. I’m making an offer on this place this afternoon.”
“This is my home,” I whisper, angrily.
His eyes soften slightly.
“And I’m sorry for that, but business is business, Quinn.”
“Are we done here?” I mutter.
His eyes grow dark and I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. “We’re done for now.”
“Go to hell.”
He smiles at my sass, flashing those killer dimples. Damn him for being beautiful. “Angel, hell is for the weak. And if there’s one thing I am not, it’s weak.”
This guy is pissing me off.
“Leave.”
He gives me a lazy, lopsided grin that makes my heart pound.
“Afternoon, Pixie.”
With that, he turns and strides out. When he’s gone, I turn to Jace, who is watching him go. “Was that,” he swallows with wide eyes, “Tazen Watts?”
“Yes,” I mutter. “It certainly was.”
“Tazen Watts…” he breathes. “Holy fuck. He is