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Some Call It Temptation
© 2019 Sarah Peis
Published by Hexatorial
Developmental Editing: Natasha Orme
Copy Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Art: Tall Story Design
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ISBN: 978-0-6481085-3-5
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s wild imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Excerpt from Some Call It Fate
Other books by Sarah Peis
About the Author
To Andouillette. May we never meet again.
“That’s not the right hole. You have to stick it in here.”
“I know where to put it in. Go away and let the professionals do their jobs.”
“And I’m not a professional?”
“Not when you wave that thing at me. It stinks.”
I watched Landon, one of the mechanics, and Mason, the co-owner of Drake’s garage, argue from where I was standing in the doorway. Their heads were under the hood of an old car that looked ready to go to the junkyard, and they were bickering while Landon was eating a giant sandwich.
I worked at Drake’s while their receptionist Willa was travelling around Europe with her boyfriend, Jameson, the co-owner of the garage and Mason’s brother. Willa was one of my best friends, and when she found out that I didn’t have a job lined up after I finished college, she asked if I could help out while she was away.
Since I needed the money and there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her, I agreed. I was desperate to get out of my hometown, Humptulips, and to be able to do that I needed to save up some money. The small, sleepy town was in the middle of nowhere America, and if I wanted to get out from under my mother’s thumb, my only option was to move away. Not only had Willa organized a job for me, she also let me stay at her apartment rent free for as long as I needed.
When they stopped arguing to take breaths, I seized the opportunity to call out to them, “Carter is on the phone. He wants to speak to Mason.”
I heard a loud groan, followed by a bang, and then Mason’s head came up from underneath the hood. “Seriously, Starla, what could you have possibly screwed up already? I’m never doing a favor for Willa again.”
There went my hard-won equilibrium. “Excuse me? You’re doing her a favor? Don’t you mean I’m doing you a favor by helping out while she’s travelling?”
He brushed me off and went inside the office. “We could have hired someone from the temp agency.”
I followed him and stood on the opposite side of the desk. It was always a good idea to put space between me and Mason. Things happened when we were standing too close. Confusing things.
“You mean the temp agency that blocked your number?”
He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and picked up the receiver. After talking to Carter for all of five seconds, he hung up, then aimed another glare at me and stalked out. Before the door closed behind him, I pushed it open and leaned into the garage. “And my name is Stella.” Misogynistic imbecile.
I would have loved to say the last part out loud, but good manners were a part of me like makeup to a pantomime. So they stayed in my head.
The day was busy, the garage popular, and I lost track of time. I was entering numbers into a spreadsheet when I felt someone watching me. I stopped typing, waiting for the person to speak. Judging by the raised hairs on my arm and the warmth I felt in my belly, it could only be one person. I looked up to confirm my suspicion.
“Is there a reason why you’re back already?”
“I need more oil filters for the Bronco,” Mason said, his stare game going strong.
“Okay.”
“Why aren’t you writing this down?” he asked, the deep timbre of his voice resonating through my body.
“Because I’ll be able to remember oil filters.”
Despite what he thought, I wasn’t an idiot. But try telling him that. He seemed to have cast his judgment already.
“I also need brake pads for the Mustang.”
“Right. Anything else?”
“Spark plugs for the Audi.”
“You got it.”
“You’re still not writing anything down. How do you know how many to order for each?”
“That’s three items. And Willa wrote down how many to order of each before she left. I think I can remember three things.” I sighed.
“Can you, though?”
I ignored his jab and smiled at him sweetly. I had perfected putting a mask in place when I needed to. “Anything else?”
“I need it by tomorrow.”
“No problem.”
“Means you need to send the order now.”
I fought hard not to roll my eyes. “I can handle it. Now can I get back to work?”
He didn’t say anything else, just glared at me with his beautiful emerald eyes—that were totally wasted on the jerky shithead—and left the office. Good riddance. There was only so much time someone could spend staring at all the gloriousness that was Mason Drake. Too bad he was such a butt-wipe.
One that had the nicest arms I had ever seen. They were muscular and defined. And I’ve always had a weakness for toned arms. They were my kryptonite. Fortunately, he didn’t know that. Unfortunately, he liked to wear tight T-shirts that showed me entirely too much.
I made myself another cup of instant coffee—the only thing available since I broke the coffee machine—and ordered the parts His Majesty requested.
The day went by in a blur, and I was still in the office an hour after
