Super Nova (7 page)

So he dashed to his room, slamming the door harder than intended, and took matters into his own hands.

Nola had barely removed her key from the ignition when Kaige crossed the lot in her direction.

She smiled when he opened her door and gave her a hand out. “Good morning, Super Nova.”

“You were pretty much right about your car.” He tempered the insult with a grin.

“Hey.” Nola whacked him in what had to be a six-pack with the back of her hand before she thought better of it. Her fingers bounced right off. “It gets the job done.”

“That’s like the difference between a cheap vibrator and good sex.” He grinned as they picked up right where they’d left off the night before.

“It gets the job done,” she repeated with a shrug and strutted off before he could add anything spicier than she could stomach, though she wondered what his car looked like and how well he drove it.

Somehow she didn’t doubt either his machine or his handling were less than spectacular.

While she felt like she’d won him over—Eli, Alanso and Sally too—she still hadn’t met half the gang. First impressions mattered. She didn’t want them to think she mixed business with pleasure to get her way.

Despite the height of her heels, she strode to the garage’s office and let herself inside as Kaige jogged to catch up from where she’d left him, staring with his jaw open, in her dust.

“Glad to see you back.” Eli acknowledged her entrance with a nod.

Had he been waiting for her to run? To call and say she’d reconsidered?

“You’re not going to shake me that easily,” she promised.

“Great.” He smiled, then addressed the man coming up behind her. “Alanso and I set up a whiteboard and some supplies along with your laptop in the break room, Super Nova.”

“Time to get to work then.” Kaige closed his hand around hers, leading her toward the garage and their new pseudo space. His touch warmed her right down to her toes, which curled.

“Well, I thought I’d introduce Ms. Brown to the gang first.” Eli eyed Nova warily, as if waiting for him to spring some kind of trap.

Nola suspected he had another prize in mind after their conversation last night.

“I’ll show her around, Cobra. If the goal is for you to concentrate on pulling together the wedding, then you’d better quit screwing around with us. Two weeks sounds friggin’ impossible, but what do I know? I’ve never even been to a wedding before.” He shrugged.

“Really? Never?” Nola faced him, her head tilted a little. Genuine curiosity drew her to the desolation she caught flickering through his gaze from time to time. She was glad he’d have this experience to share with his friends. Unless her mom and sister had been right.

What if he was jealous?

“Are you sure?” Eli asked at the same time Nola spoke. He had to be wondering if Kaige’s about-face was genuine. It was as drastic as punk kids doing donuts in the middle of an abandoned parking lot before delivering meals to elderly people in their neighborhood. “Ms. Brown’s sister—”

“Really, Eli.” She reminded him again, “Call me Nola. My sister is Amber. Otherwise, I’ll start referring to you as Mr. London.”

Both Eli and Kaige laughed at that.

“What?” She tried not to catch their infectious smiles.

“You’ll meet Tom soon.” Kaige squeezed her hand, reminding her that he hadn’t let go. “Eli’s father. He’s…”

“All of the Hot Rods’ dad.” Cobra finished when Nova stumbled. “Anyway, yeah… Amber worked some miracles and got us everything we needed. The catch is the officiator. She’s booked every other weekend this summer. Our only shot is the Saturday after next. Otherwise, we have to wait until fall. Frankly, the sooner the better, in my book. I’ve been tasked with calling people to invite them personally since we don’t have enough time—or really any desire—to do the whole fancy mailing, calligraphy bullshit.”

“Sounds like you’d better get your ass in gear.” Nova used his free hand to smack Eli’s aforementioned buns, then continued tugging her toward their main workspace.

Nola tried desperately not to gawk as the bond between the Hot Rods became more and more evident. She’d never seen men work so intimately as a team. Their friendship—and even that seemed like a weak label for what she witnessed—glowed bright and strong.

Making mental notes, she put a giant checkmark next to charisma as one of the garage’s strengths. Customers would be able to sense the energy they kept around them and the love they had for their labors. Essence like that couldn’t be taught and it had no price tag when it came to giving a business that extra, indefinable
something
that would bring clients flocking in and staying loyal. A huge point in their favor already.

Though Kaige had come on strong, making no excuses for his familiarity after last night’s email exchange, she couldn’t muster up the willpower to shake loose from his grip. She pretended she worried about her stilettos slipping on the painted concrete floor instead of admitting the man had some kind of spell on her. Nova tempted her to ditch what she thought of as her professional costume and be herself. The
real
Nola Brown. Something she refused to do at work ordinarily. Confusing her career with her personal life had never been an issue.

She didn’t plan for that poor judgment to begin today either.

First up, Kaige led her to the gap between two cars. Both were lifted to waist level. Delicious, very able-bodied men lounged partially beneath them. Dirt and grease only added to their lethal sex appeal.

“Barracuda, Meep, roll out for a minute.” Kaige knocked the steel-toe of his scuffed black boot against a wooden dolly. “There’s somebody here I’d like you to meet.”

Warmth radiated from Kaige’s broad hand as he finally relinquished hers. Instead of using it to cradle her fingers, he settled it in the dip of her waist and guided her nearer to his hard body to avoid any accidental contact from his fellow garagemates. Nola had to restrain herself. Otherwise she would be purring like a kitten and curling closer to his protective touch.

This was bad.

Really bad.

From their website profiles, she knew the pair as Roman and Carver, though she tacked their nicknames on to the mental outline she assembled for each man.

As the guys unfurled themselves and stood, the
whrrrp
of a pneumatic impact wrench—at least she guessed that’s what the tool was from her studies the night before—grew silent. The racket echoed then faded, sounding less like pit road at one of the stock car races her sister liked to scout for hot racers and more like an empty hall.

Amber would die when she heard today’s updates on Nola’s new assignment.

Her sister could keep stinky wedding duty.

Kaige called over his shoulder, “Hey, Bryce. Grab Swinger and come here a minute, would you?”

Nola couldn’t quite make out the grumbled response, in a bass so deep it defied her hearing, but Carver must have been better at deciphering his friend’s speech. He translated for her. “He’s coming, just needed to finish screwing something in.”

“If you weren’t here, we’d probably make a crass joke about Rebel’s ability to screw.” Kaige winked at her, still with that damn hand on her. When she tried to step away, he shifted to maintain contact. Heat seeped through her blazer and the thin silk blouse beneath it straight into her spine, making it as limber and melty as the rest of her insides.

Another pair of mechanics joined their semicircle when beckoned, completely overloading her with their potent testosterone barrage. Roman and Carver were wirier compared to the bulk of Bryce or the sleek yet defined muscles Holden sported.

Each of them took turns giving her a wave instead of a handshake since they claimed they didn’t want to muss her up. She wondered for a moment if they were sensing some of the stake Kaige had made.

Half of her didn’t mind in the least, the other portion was outraged. Determining the appropriate response was impossible when caught in the crosshairs of their intense scrutiny. Their deceptively relaxed postures, leaning against toolboxes or a stack of wheels, didn’t fool her in the least. They sized her up like a pack of dogs circling prey or maybe a potential mate.

“Nola and Nova.” Holden chuckled. “You sorta rhyme. How cute!”

Kaige glowered at his friend—Swinger, they’d called him. How would she ever learn their names
and
their nicknames?

Nova’s sour face only proved he was hot no matter what. Damn, when had she ever seen a man as fine as him?

Not even on TV.

His Ken-doll coloration could have made him too pretty if it weren’t for all the other pure maleness on top. Scruff roughed up his jaw, shadowing his paler skin with stubble. His dreads were messy chic, and impressive for a white boy. Bold, colorful tattoos drew her attention to his sculpted arms. They peeked out from beneath the grease-stained white wife-beater that he wore beneath navy-blue coveralls embroidered with the Hot Rods logo, now bunched around his waist.

Some evil part of her yearned to tug, just a little, and bare his high, tight ass. Though she’d refused to answer him in their emails.
Hell, yeah.
She had nothing to complain about there.

Nola shifted her weight from one high heel to the other, pressing her thighs together as subtly as possible. She played with the buttons on her blouse while she waited for someone to break their awkward silence.

“Just so you know, you don’t have to dress like a stuffy old librarian to be taken seriously around here.” Bryce’s wide smile took the edge of his bluntness. “Jeans and a T-shirt would be more practical. Feel free to go slobby, like us.”

“Don’t mind him.” Holden smacked the big guy in the gut. His fist bounced off as though it were a gnat. “Rebel hates formalities of any type.”

“I like to think I measure a person’s worth on their actions, not their presentation of themselves to the world or by any physical belongings they possess.” Bryce’s quiet, persuasive tone demonstrated why he held the customer service position in the group. Reserved, yet eloquent, he navigated tricky waters with ease.

It was apparent that money meant nothing to him as a gauge for wealth. Nola could understand. She’d done her research last night and found they’d all been taken in by Tom London. Like her and Amber, none of them had started the game of life with an unfair advantage handed down by their parents.

They hadn’t had shit to their names. It hadn’t changed who they were. Not Nola, or her sister. And it didn’t seem like it had impacted these guys either. The most valuable things they had came from within. Honor and dignity measured above everything.

She could relate.

A tendril of admiration wove through her, only increasing her damned attraction to the man beside her and his pretty awesome friends.
Keep your mind on business. Helping out their garage will be the best you can do for all of you.

“Then again…” Bryce’s smile spread as he scanned her from head to toe. “Kaige has a thing for women in heels. You know, if you want to butter him up.”

Nola sputtered a bit at the revelation. It should have been an innocent remark. The last thing she wanted was for them to think she was coming on to them, Kaige especially. When the rest of the men laughed, she gave in to the sense of humor she could sense twinkling in their eyes.

Maybe they were right. This professional ruse didn’t suit her. Most times she needed it to get her employers to take her seriously. Young and attractive didn’t always make for a good combination in her role.

Unable to help herself, she relaxed a bit. A giggle escaped her despite her belated attempt to clench her teeth. “Okay, I’ll see if I can do better tomorrow.”

With that, the crowd dispersed. The guys got back to work. Serious about their jobs, and loving what they did, they didn’t waste precious Hot Rods time though their shouted jeers and the music pumping from the radio they turned up chased after her and Kaige as they rounded a corner at the back of the garage.

She checked out their state-of-the-art equipment—impressed as she mentally compared it to the stuff she’d dug up on the Internet—and the neat, orderly shop layout. They may have been involved in dirty work, but they kept their areas tidy. This was no fly-by-night operation. From her brief analysis, she could tell the business was healthy.

A wave of disappointment snaked through her guts. They may not need the services of Brown & Brown after all. If her assessment today, after peeking at Kaige’s plans, left her with that impression, she’d say so. Scamming customers wasn’t a cornerstone of her own model.

From the quality of the workmanship around her, ripping people off wasn’t a tenant of the Hot Rods trade either. The more she learned about them, the more esteem she had for the seven guys and one woman who’d built this domain from the ground up.

Her heels tapped on the sealed concrete.

Kaige never took his cupped hand from her elbow. His thumb brushed an arc over the sensitive skin there. “Careful now, it’s slippery sometimes. Mustang Sally does her painting and polishing back here. We’ve busted our asses a few times when wax spills on the floor. It’s funny to see Carver or Alanso doing their banana-peel routine. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, though.”