Hard to Handle

The woman left, and as the door swung shut, Aiden called after her, “Thanks, Sonya.”

The sound of his voice stopped Sadie short. When the red spots cleared from her vision, she noticed Aiden watching her expectantly. Her eyes darted to the sheet of paper on the counter—yep, there was a phone number on there—to the pen in his hand. She snatched it from him and forced a tight smile. “Can I borrow this?”

Without waiting for an answer, Sadie pointed her frustrated, jealous, and clearly insane self in the direction of the warehouse and didn’t look back.

*  *  *

Aiden narrowed his eyes at Sadie’s retreating back before allowing a ghost of a smile to sneak onto his face. If he wasn’t mistaken, Sadie did not like that Mrs. Sonya Rollins had slipped Aiden her husband’s phone number a moment ago. How else was he supposed to alert the couple when their special- ordered leather saddlebags came in?

Sadie had practically been foaming at the mouth as she crossed the room. Aiden half expected her to snatch the receipt and tear it into a million pieces. This was the woman who’d fed her wedding invitations through a shredder, after all. If she could obliterate expensive card stock without a second thought, the thin sheet of thermal paper in his hand didn’t stand a chance.

And what did she need his pen for, anyway? His eyes went to the full cup of ink pens on the corner of the counter. She hadn’t grabbed one of those.

Yeah. Something was up.

For the last few days, Aiden had watched her work. She came in when the store opened, or just before, and stayed for two or three hours to arrange, and help sell, the parts she’d dug out of the warehouse. Aiden helped, referring customers to the clearance display and explaining they were making room for new inventory.

In the case of parts the clearance rack didn’t hold, Sadie had equipped Aiden with a Midwest brand price sheet with their most popular items on it. Yesterday when she’d overheard Aiden say a certain Midwest part would need to be shipped, Sadie had run out to her car and dug the part out of her trunk.

She was driven, no doubt about it.

Aiden smiled at empty doorway leading to the warehouse where she’d disappeared in a blur of blonde, pen-wielding beauty. Sadie was about to become number one in sales thanks to the Axle’s contract. In pursuit of the goal, she wasn’t about to let any detail fall by the way.

His admiration for her work ethic stirred something familiar within him. His own drive. His own goals. Aiden had finally, finally taken a step toward getting what he wanted when he’d accepted the job at Axle’s. Not that he wouldn’t do what he’d done for his mother a hundred times over, but this was his chance. A new chapter of his life. A brand new day.

Or it would be, as soon as he nutted up and talked to Axle. He needed to quit putting it off, lay out his pitch, and see what his gruff employer thought of it.

Aiden had a break coming up, and no plans other than finding a sandwich shop where he could fill his empty void of a stomach. He could invite Sadie to come with him, get what he knew would be her blatantly honest opinion of the business deal he was considering.

A plan. Simply having one made him feel as if he was halfway to victory. Aiden abandoned the sales floor and walked to Axle’s office. He poked his head through the open door to find Axle sitting at his computer, pecking away at a snail’s pace with the tips of his sausage-like fingers. “I’m going to take a break soon. Cover me?”

Axle turned, the chair beneath him creaking in disagreement. Over a pair of his wife’s flowered pink reading glasses—Axle lost a pair of reading glasses a week, at least—he gave Aiden a solemn stare. “Okay,” he said, his tone revealing nothing.

Aiden headed down the hallway away from Axle’s office, shaking his head as he wondered at his burly boss. Any inside information on how to scale the granite wall that was Axle Zoller would be appreciated. The man was about as readable as a braille instruction manual for complicated electronics.

In the warehouse, Sadie was standing on a stepladder straining for a box just out of reach of her slight height.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

“Oh!” He’d startled her, and Sadie grasped the shelf for support to keep from falling. Over her head, the large box swayed and began to tip.

Aiden rushed for her, and before he’d worked out how to do it, pulled Sadie off the stepladder and folded her into him, protecting her with his body.

And then time stopped.

Her scent wrapped around him, tickling his nostrils and reminding him of holding her as he kissed the sense right out of her. Her silken blonde hair wound softly around his fingertips where his palm cupped the back of her head. The press of her breasts against his chest, the way his arm locked around her lower back, made him want to pull her close and never let her go.

Then, in a cascade of clanks and clatters, the box overhead toppled and delivered an array of parts to the warehouse’s concrete floor. And one heavy piece in particular right into Aiden’s shoulder.

He let out a sound between a growl and a grunt as the sharp edge hit his shoulder, but he didn’t let Sadie go until he was sure it was done raining metal. Only then did he allow her to pull away. She did, slowly, turning those brown eyes up at him as one hand fisted the side of his shirt.

Those petal soft lips parted and all Aiden could think was tasting her…until her eyebrows slammed down and she barked, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What the hell am I doing?” Aiden asked as she backed away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m working.”

“Looks more like you’re trying to get yourself killed.” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but she was yelling at him. She should be thanking him.

Aiden palmed his right shoulder and winced. Now that the adrenaline had ebbed, his shoulder was beginning to throb.

Sadie’s reached out a hand. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said. “Probably just a scratch.” The pain wasn’t intense. After the bike wreck, intense took on a whole new meaning. Nothing before or since had hurt worse than his back after he’d played chicken with a tree…and lost.

He pulled his hand away to find red liquid on the tips of his fingers.

“Aiden!” Sadie clasped his wrist. “You’re bleeding!”

Pshaw. Merely a flesh wound. “I’m fine.”

Sadie’s frown deepened and she latched onto his wrist, dragging him with her as she sidestepped various mufflers, oil filters, and dash panels scattered across the floor. “Where is a first aid kit?” Her grip was tight for a little thing. She was squeezing his forearm so hard he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to give him first aid.

“I’m fine.” He stopped walking and she sent him a glare over her shoulder. “Bathroom,” he said, giving in and gesturing to the right.

Sadie led him in and opened the mirrored medicine cabinet, rooting around until she found bandages. “Sit,” she commanded, pushing him onto the toilet seat. She wet a pile of paper towels and turned back to him, plucking the edge of his shirt. “Off.”

“You’re bossy, do you know that?”

“Take your shirt off, Aiden.”

What he wouldn’t give for her to be purring that into his ear instead of barking it at him like a drill sergeant. No, actually, that worked, too. He hid his smile as he tugged the neck of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Sadie dabbed at the cut, her ministrations gentle. “I had it,” she said, her voice soft. “You just scared me.”

“You did not,” Aiden said, winding his shirt in his hands. She swiped again and he sucked air through his teeth, frowning over his shoulder at her.

She gave him a tight smile. “Sorry.”

Aiden turned back around. “Next time you need something back here, ask for my help.”

She switched from a wet paper towel to dry. “You were busy,” she bit out.