Her lips almost twitched. Toby, with his gangly, too tall body and intensity sometimes reminded her of Nathan's brother Rory when she had first met him. And he could be just as melodramatic as Rory had once been.
Sabella pushed tiredly against the underside of the motor, sending the creeper rolling across the cement until her head was free, leaving her to stare up at Toby, the young man she had hired to take care of the office.
His shoulder-length light brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, his brown eyes filled with anxiousness as his forehead creased into a frown.
Dammit, she didn't have time for this.
"I told Mike the motor would be ready tomorrow, not today." She heaved herself upright, sitting with her jean-clad legs spread over the narrow hard plastic device used to maneuver beneath the vehicles as she lay back to work beneath them. She propped her arms on her knees, staring up at him in exasperation.
She wiped her grimy fingers negligently against the side of her jeans before brushing the loose strands of her dark brown and blond-streaked hair back from her face.
"We're not hiring, and Rory will be here when he gets here. That's all I know. Now take care of it." She moved to lie back down, determined to finish the final tuneup of the sedan that the mechanics had neglected to inform her was sitting out back. Mike Conrad wasn't the only one waiting on his vehicle.
"Oh, no you don't." He shook his head fiercely as she moved to push herself back under the car. "I can't handle this dude, Belle. He's like the Grim Reaper's cousin or something. He's not part of my job description, ya know? You deal with him."
Sabella pushed back the anger, drawn more from her own impatience than Toby's attitude. The boy was normally pretty stable and dealt with aggravated customers with a flair she envied.
"Just tell him to come back in the morning. Rory will be here…" She hung her head as he began shaking his head violently. "Fine."
She struggled to her feet, picking up the creeper and propping it against the side of the garage wall as she grabbed a stained towel and began trying to rub the oil from her hands. After a few seconds, she tossed the rag back to the bench and stalked through the four-car holding bay to the office beyond.
They couldn't afford a new mechanic, no matter how much she needed one to keep the garage profitable. She was going to lose her ass here, and she knew it. If she didn't manage to straighten up the mess she had allowed to develop in those first horrific three years after her husband's death, she was going to lose the garage, and her home. The benefits she had received just weren't enough to save it all.
She couldn't lose the home she and Nathan had shared. She'd worked three years to rebuild it. She couldn't lose it.
God, she couldn't lose that last connection to him. It was all she had left.
"Tell Danny I want that car finished and out of here this afternoon." she ordered Toby as they neared the office. 'Tell him we can finish the Carltons' truck later this evening, but Jennie needs her car to get to work and it took too long to get those parts as it is. I have everything ready, it just needs going over and testing."
"On my way." Toby nodded before turning and loping over to the far side of the garage.
"And don't run," she muttered, knowing he wouldn't pay attention to that order if he did hear her. He was like a puppy. All gangly legs and nervous energy.
And she hadn't even asked him the employee wannabe's name. She shook her head, pushing her fingers through her hair before jerking the office door open and coming to a hard, cold stop.
Arrogance shimmered off him. Dark blue eyes seared into her brain, glowing from a face that was sun bronzed and savagely hard. Flat cheekbones, a nose that was just a little off center, lips that were sensual but just a tad thin. A dark, short black beard covered his face, closely cropped and giving him a dangerous appearance. Long black hair was pulled back from his face and secured at his nape.
A shiver raced over her skin, a primal warning of danger, as she stared at him. He was lean and tall, but she bet the muscles beneath that black leather jacket, T-shirt, jeans, and riding chaps were like steel. Heavy boots covered big feet, and he stood staring her from beneath thick, too thick, silky black lashes.
This man was a predator. It was her first thought. Long, lean, and dangerous, the kind of man Sabella had learned to steer well clear of after her husband's death. Once bitten, twice shy. She had learned her lesson about that air of danger, and she had no desire to revisit it.
He leaned casually against the desk, his palms flat on the surface as he watched her with predatory intent. For a moment, just a moment, she went back in time, to that day she had first pulled into the lot, her car overheating, her nerves frazzled because she was late for a job interview. It was hot, she was sweating in the late-summer Texas sun, cursing her move from Georgia and the Texas heat that seemed to take forever to get used to.
And standing in just mat position had been Nathan Mal, the owner, and later her husband. His eyes had raked over her slowly, a smile tilting his sexy lips as his eyes, Irish eyes, brilliant, seductive, stole her heart.
She felt her mouth go painfully dry. Her hands were shaking, her stomach cramping, as she stared back at the stranger. She didn't know this man. she didn't want to know this man. but for a moment, just a moment, she glimpsed the past with him. A bittersweet, painful knowledge of love and loss and everything fate had denied her.
"There are no openings. Please leave."
Okay, so that was really rude, but she was really busy too. And she didn't need the headache she knew would come with this man.
"Rory assured me there was an opening for a mechanic."
Oh God, that voice.
His voice was deep, raspy, almost guttural. It raked over her nerve endings and sent an edge of dark response. Damn, damn, damn. She didn't need this. She didn't need her body awakening now after so many years in a deep freeze. She sure as hell didn't need it awakening for a man more dangerous and likely a hell of a lot harder than any other man she had ever known.
His voice was cool and filled with purpose, but the undercurrents were dark, hungry. She had never heard that in her husband's voice, had never seen it in his eyes.
She turned back slowly, forcing herself to stare at his chin, the short clipped beard and mustache blurring his features. Were those scars?
No, she didn't want to know. She didn't care.