“That’s a pretty big favor. Not sure if one little sugar run is enough payment. And it wasn’t Jameson that warned us off.”
“I’ll get you something from Sweet Dreams every day for two weeks if you help me out. But you can’t tell Mason or the deal is off.”
“Make it three weeks and you have a deal.”
The lengths I would go to in order to avoid more of Mason’s wrath were great. So I did the only thing I could and shook Landon’s outstretched hand while holding my top with my other hand. “Deal.” I pulled my hand back and narrowed my eyes at him. “Why are you smiling at me like that? You look like you’ve had a stroke.”
He shook his head, deranged smile still in place. “You know you might fool everyone else with your act, but I see right through you. Munchkin, I know you’re smart. And you know how I know this? It’s because I’m like the psychic Sylvia Browne. Only I’m male and still alive.”
“Okay, Sylvia, go and do your psychic thing on the cars. You’ll be busy for the next few days, so a little help from higher powers might come in handy.”
He saluted at me and went to the door. “Aye, aye, capt’n.”
I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over my face. Maybe my day wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
I had just come back from my donut run and was full of sugar and happy thoughts. My hard-won equilibrium was ruined when Mason barged into my office without knocking and took over the room like only he could. There was something about him that took me completely off guard, and boy was he gorgeous when he was angry. His eyes went all stormy and his muscles tensed under his skintight shirt. His coverall was pulled down to his waist, giving me a great view of his body. And those arms… I needed a moment to admire how good they looked when he was all tensed up like that.
“Are you fucking listening to me?” His hands were on his hips and the vein in his neck was pulsing. If he started breathing fire, I wouldn’t be surprised.
And no, I definitely was not listening to a word he just yelled at me. I doubted it was anything important. But since it was obvious there was no use in pretending and I said, “Nope, I clearly wasn’t. Did you have something to tell me that I actually need to know? Or did you just come in here to yell at someone?”
His face was about an inch from mine—How did I not see him get this close?—and he was breathing loudly. Even his breath smelled nice. Like peppermint. Ugh, isn’t there anything on him that I find disgusting?
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked.
I stopped staring and leaned back in my chair. “I’m not staring. Just waiting for you to repeat yourself, so you can leave and I can do my work.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds and rubbed his temples. “This must be my penance for a misdeed in a former life. Because nothing I have done in this one warrants such a harsh punishment. I’m a nice guy. People like me. I’m the happy brother. Jameson is the brooder. Even though he has been way less broody and much more happy lately.”
I raised a brow at him and tapped my hands on the desk. Happy my ass.
He looked at the ceiling and groaned. “Never mind. Just stay out of the workshop and stop giving Landon any ideas.”
“What ideas, exactly, am I giving him? How to decorate his home? Or what he should have for lunch?”
He looked at me and narrowed his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I clearly don’t or I wouldn’t ask.” My voice was clipped.
“Just stay away from him.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll have to give you a written warning.”
“What does that mean? A warning for what?”
“For distracting your coworkers.”
“This is ridiculous. Don’t you think you are taking this whole ‘hate Stella and make her life hell’ mission a little too far?”
“That’s not what this is. I just don’t want any distractions at work.”
“And I’m a distraction?”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. God, he was such a jerky butt-face. “Fine. I’ll make sure not to distract anyone else again.”
“Good. Then also make sure that you wear appropriate clothes.” He looked me up and down. “Because this isn’t working for me.”
I could feel my face heat up. This was simply not happening. I had been told what to wear all my life and was not willing to put up with it anymore. The jeans and T-shirt I was wearing were appropriate wear for a garage. “Are you serious?”
“It’s too tight. Now get back to work.” He stalked toward the door, and I shot up from my chair.
“This conversation was more disappointing than an unsalted pretzel,” I yelled at his back. He didn’t respond and walked through the door without turning around. And just in time because I was two seconds away from throwing myself at him. And not in a romantic I’m-going-to-ravage-you way, either. It was going to be more like a knee-to-his-balls situation.
The next day I was shutting down my computer when Maisie came barreling into the office. She was my other best friend and had gone to college with Willa and me. “Stella, you have to hide me. Now.”
There wasn’t much else to do but to usher her under my desk and put the chair back in place. Because that’s what good friends did.
“I’ll explain later,” she promised from her hiding spot.
The huge desk was enclosed on three sides, which made it a pretty good place to hide. I
