Statham: An Older Man Younger Woman, Mechanic Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 32) Read online

  He’s a man who controls his beasts. And I’d like to see this beast try and control me.

  But wait? Was that an English accent I detected? I always thought those guys were so buttoned up and proper? This guy is rugged and I would say rough around the edges, but his edges are definitely not rough. Each part of him is absolutely male perfection. Each individual muscle like it’s carved from stone.

  “Meet ya around front,” he says, motioning with his head towards another part of his shop. And just like that he disappears back into the darkness of his work area.

  I look at the building and realize the front must be around the corner. I go to lift my boot out of the snow but it’s practically stuck I’ve been standing here gawking at him for so long.

  I grab the boot by the top and lift it and my leg out. I do the same with the other and start trekking through the snow towards the entrance.

  Finally…something might actually go right today. I’m going to get my glove back and I’ll get to go inside for a minute and get warm.

  I wonder if he’ll let me wait until my bus comes. And I wonder if he’s put a shirt on.

  CHAPTER 2

  Statham

  “Are you always this feisty?” I ask.

  She looks at me like I’m crazy, or rude, or maybe a little of both. She might be right on all counts.

  “Sorry?” she says.

  “A bit of a firecracker, aren’t you,” I say. “There’s creamer and sugar on the table,” I say motioning with my head toward the table where the customers wait. I slide her a coffee in a Styrofoam cup. “Just finished brewing not five minutes ago,” I say.

  I raise my own cup and watch as she maneuvers over to the table and puts copious amounts of creamer and sugar inside her coffee.

  “We can dump that one out and you can fill an empty cup with creamer and sugar and then pour the coffee on top if you prefer.”

  She turns and smiles. Nice to see she can smile when she wants to. And she does have a pretty smile. It’s warm and inviting. She looks like a nice girl. A nice girl I can think of doing a lot of bad things with.

  “I’ll be alright,” she says. “But you might need to order some more of these,” she says. Holding up her cup.

  “Good thing we have a strict one coffee per customer limit,” I say.

  “What about non-customers?”

  “They’re expected to bring their own…or go thirsty,” I say.

  She knows how to banter like she’s English, although she’s clearly not. The English don’t talk to each other much, but when we do at the pub we definitely like nothing more than to show off a few witticism or our ability to use our language to get the best of the other fella.

  But she’s far from one of the fellas. She may have a jacket on but even so I can clearly make out that she’s got curves in all the right places. The body of a woman and possibly the mind of a man. This could be just the girl I’ve been looking for…for business and pleasure.

  “I appreciate your leeway in my case,” she says.

  “Don’t mention it. Least I could do after that pooch grabbed your mitten.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “She’s out back. She’s not mine, but she’s taken a liking to fetching things around the area here and bringing them back to my dogs. I think she’s trying to win their affection or something.”

  “I thought that was the man’s job.”

  “I guess it’s whoever’s job that’s looking for a partner.”

  “Or two,” she says.

  “Or six,” I say. “Got me more dogs in the back.”

  “Six!” she says. “That sounds like a reverse harem.”

  “A reverse what?”

  “Never mind,” I say. I like to read, but I’m not into those kinds of stories anyways. “I love dogs.”

  “They tend to make better friends than people,” I say.

  “You can say that again after the sort of day I’ve been having.”

  “Rough one?”

  “Fired and dumped all within ten minutes. Well, I wouldn’t say dumped, but it was close enough.”

  “You didn’t need him anyways. You’re better off alone.”

  “What makes you say that?” she asks.

  “I’ve been going it alone for years. It’s the only way to go,” I say. I mean what I say too, but there is something about this girl that has piqued my interest. I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to fall for her from the get go, but I am curious as to what she’s all about although I’m not holding my breath. I’ve learned before never to trust anyone. It’s how I go about my life. Give ‘em an inch, they’ll take a mile. Give ‘em your trust, and they’ll make you wish you never did.

  “Probably good advice,” she says. “But I hope to see the glass half full again once I get over this.”

  “An optimist,” I say. “The American way.”

  “You’re not from around here are you?”

  “You just picked up on that?” I say. I give her a smirk and I see she’s eating the sarcasm up.

  “Well, it’s kind of like the way you talk, but I knew there was something messed up about you. Figured you just might be crazy or something.”

  “I’m not disputing that,” I say.

  She’s still dishing it out, and I’m actually enjoying myself. I haven’t had a visitor in a few days. Even if I had I probably wouldn’t even know. I’m out back all day and into the night working on cars. If someone comes they could be ringing that bell for hours before I heard ‘em. When I’m working I’m completely focused. It’s how I became the best mechanic in all of the United Kingdom and how I plan on doing the same here…one custom job at a time.

  “It’s probably a benefit in your line of work. Adds to your creativity,” she says.

  “And just what is my line of work?”

  “Car servicing and detailing,” she says.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well the Statham Service Center sign out front would be a start. That and you’ve got dogs guarding the place and you were welding so I’m guessing you’re working on some pretty nice cars. Why else would you be welding and going to such lengths to keep your place secure.”

  “Maybe I just like dogs,” I say. And maybe I’m really starting to like her. The girl said she just got broken up with and she’s carrying on this kind of conversation with me? She’s one tough cookie. It’s almost like she’s put it behind her already. Either that or she can compartmentalize real quick. Both traits that go a long way in my line of work.

  I’m used to dealing with the toughest of the tough. Rich and famous people who have lots of time and lots of money on their hands. They want the absolute best and they want it yesterday. It’s important to listen to what they say, and not the tone. You have to set expectations and then block out the noise and get to work.

  And you have to know how to deal with them. How to stand your ground and go round for round with them verbally if you have to. If they think you’re weak they’ll try and cut price and any number of other demands that you definitely don’t need or want to deal with.

  I’d never considered a girl could survive in this kind of work. She’s making me reconsider.

  And she’s also making me reconsider my no messing around with women pledge. I came here to the States to work. That’s all. I don’t need any distractions and I certainly don’t need a girlfriend. But I can tell this isn’t the kind of girl you have as a girlfriend. She’s that kind of girl that you get ahold of and you don’t let go. You’re not going to find another like her. She’s truly one of a kind. Who in their right mind yells at a man twice her size while he’s wearing a welding mask, holding a torch and has a couple trained Rottweilers between them?

  Either this girl is out of her mind or I am.

  “Do you like dogs?” she asks.

  “Love ‘em. Man’s best friend for a reason.”

  “Women’s too.”

  “You ladies get cats. Let us men have our do
gs in peace.”

  “Everybody loves dogs,” she says.

  I give her a curious look, raising one eyebrow.

  “Come on. Can’t the sexes share?” she asks.

  “Sharing turns into taking real quick. I’ve seen it before.”

  “Speaking of taking it looks like you’re taking applications.”

  “Come again?” I say.

  “It says right here on the front desk that you’re looking for someone to work the register. Flexible hours and plenty of perks.”

  I put that sign up so long ago I already forgot about it. Nobody’s said a peep about it in months.

  “Maybe,” I say.

  “Maybe? What you’re looking for a wife so you can stay here? Is that really what’s going on?”

  “All my papers are in order young lady. And why would I want to stay here? You all don’t even know how to make toast.”

  “What is there to know? You put it in the toaster and put butter and other stuff on it and eat it.”

  “Let me guess…avocados?”

  “Delicious.”

  “First of all you don’t put avocados on toast. And second of all you don’t put toast in a toaster.”

  “Then why is it called a toaster?”

  “Just an invention you Yanks dreamed up. You put toast on a pan and only heat it on one side.”

  “Well Mister Statham. Your name is Statham I presume.”

  “It is.”

  “Why are you drinking coffee? Where’s your cup o’ tea? I mean, isn’t coffee a Yank thing?”

  “It’s a Colombian thing. I used to live there.”

  “You lived in Colombia?”

  “Years ago. Long story.”

  “I’ve got time,” she says.

  “Unfortunately I don’t,” I say remembering how much work I still have to do on that Lambo in the garage. But I’m also remembering how much fun it is to be around someone like this young girl here. But she’s nothing like what I expected. She’s a young girl with the mind of a man. She’s wise beyond her years with a youthful streak to boot. I need to crank up the heat so she takes off that jacket. I want a look at her body, but it’s not going to happen today.

  She tips back her coffee in one gulp. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says.

  “You’re not interrupting,” I say. “I’m just on a deadline.”

  “Is that by design, or because you’re balancing too much because you don’t have someone at the register?”

  “You’re not afraid of the tough questions are you?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything, especially after what happened today. If I can survive that, well I’m not sure what I can’t survive.”

  “I’d tend to agree,” I say.

  She stands there looking at me like she’s waiting on something. “Can I get my glove?”

  “Right,” I say. I reach under the counter and hand it to her.

  Out of nowhere one of my other Rots, Vinny, comes out of the back. He doesn’t take kindly to just about anyone, but he’s already past me. Shit!

  “Hey buddy!” she says. She leans in and Vinny goes right up to her. She rubs him on his neck and it’s like he has a new best friend. I’ve never seen him act that way towards anyone in his entire life.

  What sky did this girl fall out of? Is someone playing a trick on me? This girl is too good to be true and I can’t just let her walk out of here.

  “How are you getting home?” I ask.

  “I’m not going home right away. I need a moment to unwind first. Think I’ll swing by the bookstore and see what new releases are in,” she says.

  “How are you getting to the bookstore?”

  “Walking.”

  “In this?”

  She looks out the window to see the snow has picked up. “Like I said. I’m not sure what I can’t survive. Time to put that to the test.”

  “Let me give you a ride,” I say.

  “I can walk. You’re busy. It’s fine.”

  “It will only take a minute.”

  “You’ve been stalking me?” Her humor is deadpan as she continues, “You know which bookstore I go to? I bet you even know where I live.”

  “No, but I figure it’s only fair now that you know where I live.”

  “You live here?”

  “I’ve said too much. I’ll pull something with four-wheel drive around front. When you see me hop in and I’ll zip you wherever you want to go in no time flat.”

  “What about that cash register position?” she asks.

  “Can you count?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Without taking off your shoes?”

  “Very funny.”

  “You’re not wanted by the police for stealing or anything are you?”

  “Well, there was that stint in the women's prison that I did for grand theft auto, but you know. Those days are behind me.”

  “All right then. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

  “Seven?”

  “Unless you want to be here when I start at five.”

  “Seven sounds very generous,” she says.

  “I’ll meet you around front,” I say.

  I walk into the back wondering what in the hell just happened. Some sassy little thing lost her glove and in the meantime I found someone to help me out here at the garage. And maybe, just maybe, I found a whole lot more.

  CHAPTER 3

  Isla

  “How old is he?” my friend Tanya asks.

  “Older,” I say.

  “We’re talking like grandpa old, dad old, or just a few years?”

  I bring my straw to my lips and take another big gulp of my margarita.

  “Oh my god. Isla, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  “He doesn’t look his age. Kind of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I lean back on my barstool. “How old do you think the bartender is?”

  “Which one?”

  “Either.”

  “I don’t know…maybe thirtyish?”

  “And how good does he look?”

  “Okayish.”

  “But not thirtyish okay, right? He’s not taking care of himself. He works in a bar. He probably has a drink or two every night while he’s working.”

  “Or ten.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “So what does that have to do with Mister Mechanic?”

  “Imagine a guy who’s probably approaching forty.”

  “Forty!”

  “Bear with me. Let’s say he’s thirty-eight to forty-two, but…and this is the difference…imagine he does about a thousand push-ups, a thousand sit-ups, and runs three miles every morning.”

  “I like the sound of this, but he’s still forty.”

  “And let’s further imagine that he eats super healthy and he basically spends his entire day working out. He’s squatting and lifting and twisting so he can fix all the places in and up and under a car.”

  “Okay. I’m seeing the light.”

  “And now let’s continue imagining he’s witty, clever, and has a backbone.”

  Tanya jumps out of her seat and pretends to push me away. “I’m outta here! I’m going to go get this guy for myself!”

  I laugh and take another sip as Tanya sits back down.

  “Okay, so you’ve made your point,” she says. “But what’s up with Doug? This seems very much like a rebound situation.”

  “First of all there is no situation. We just met today and I’m working for him so he’s off limits.”

  “Uh huh,” Tanya says, knowing I don’t believe it either. I’m trying to say it just to convince myself. “And Doug?”

  “Doug is done.”

  “Dunnie Doug huh?”

  “Kaput. Out the door, the window, whatever I can throw him out off.”

  “What a jerk anyways. You deserve way better, and it sounds like you found it at the drop of a hat.”

  “Drop of a glove you mean, but yeah.”