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Silence fell, and everyone moved away as he approached. Tall and handsome, he was dressed like the others in overalls and steel-toed boots. Even so, he carried an air of easy-going authority. I immediately got the impression of someone who tried to be friends with his employees but also wasn’t afraid to get tough when needed.
“Okay, boys, let’s get at ‘er,” he said, opening the garage.
There was a smattering of laugher as they flooded into the shop, the boss looking confused until he saw me approaching.
“Aw, shit,” I heard him mutter.
“Mr. Pierce, I’m Nina Dunn. I’m really sorry, I’m late.
“So late you’re early,” he teased, “and don’t call me Mr. Pierce. It’s Chad. Not that you’re going to be here that long.”
He turned on his heel, making a mark on a clipboard as he went. Probably putting a check next to my name. I’d already missed the first day, but it wasn’t like a regular class, much more hands-on. It wasn’t like there was reading I hadn’t done.
The looks continued as I set to work doing oil changes. Some of them resentful, but most of them disconcertingly lustful. The overalls didn’t show much at all, though this didn’t seem to stop my coworkers.
I was just twenty-one and a virgin and wasn’t used to such male attention. At least not so openly. Even Art played at being a gentleman. These rough customers gave no such illusions. My chest being a particular target of attention. Their eyes seemed to zero in on my breasts as though pulled by magnets.
I tried to ask Chad questions, actually attempting to learn something, but he just ignored me. At least when he wasn’t looking at me funny. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of his expression. It didn’t look outright hateful, nor was it particularly sexy.
“When can I work on an engine?” I asked after my fifth successful oil change.
“Why bother? You probably don’t know anything about engines anyway.”
It stung, but I was too shy and well-raised to think about correcting him. Not only was he a man, but he was also a lot older than me, and my boss. This gave him absolute authority in my head. If only it had finished there.
“See them?” he asked, pointing to the calendars of half-naked women with cars that lined the walls of the shop.
“Yeah,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“That’s the only way a girl should be in an auto shop,” he said with a snap before heading up to his office.
Damn, if I didn’t want to cry. It hurt me deeply, and I was furious, but I didn’t want to say anything and risk getting kicked out of the program. I wondered why Chad took me on in the first place if he hated girls so much, but there must have been some reason.
Making matters worse, the boss was really good-looking. From his jet-black hair to his tattooed wrists, the guy was all muscle. No if, ands, or buts. He also had a note of causal authority to his voice that struck a really deep chord in me. Unlike anything any man had done before.
I waited until lunchtime and found one of the other interns — the one who didn’t laugh and looked at the ground at the stupid stripper joke. I figured he was my best chance of finding someone actually willing to talk to me. I found him around the back of the garage eating his bagged lunch by himself, the others going to a nearby diner.
“Hi,” I said.
The kid jumped a bit and scooted a few inches away like he was actually scared of me — a pang of sympathy beat in my chest.
“They won’t see you,” I said.
“I know,” he said, pushing up his glasses.
“May I sit down?” I asked, my urbane manners asserting themselves.
“Um, sure. I’m Juan.”
I sat down next to him as he kept his gaze on his boots. Chewing his PB& J as a sort of distraction.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Juan asked.
“Nope, I’m from San Antonio.”
“That explains it,” he said, as though it did.
Ignoring that, I tried to move the conversation forward. “I was wondering about Mr. Pierce.”
“Don’t let him hear you calling him that,” the kid warned.
“I’ll bear that in mind. Does he run the shop with his wife?”
Juan started laughing, a disconcerting, snorting kind of sound. I really didn’t see what was so funny. Was Chad gay or something? It was the only thing that made sense at the time.
“The day Chad gets married is the day the Pope turns Protestant. He is an infamous womanizer who goes through lovers the way other men go through toothpicks.”
Immediately I thought about Art and his rakish ways. I hated the idea of dating him, let alone marrying him. Despite myself, I couldn’t get my mind off Chad. He really was a sexy man, even if he was a bit older. Okay, a lot older. I had just turned twenty-one, and he was at least 30. A successful businessman. Tall and handsome, and… fuck, I needed to get my head right and focus on cars.
