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"Nonsense, dear, it's fine." Mom waved a hand dismissively, then looked at him quizzically. "What did Erin mean by 'a protective streak'?"
Ryan sighed. "I wasn't going to tell you because I know you'll worry, but Erin's had some problems lately. Her last employee got in a fight with another girl, a customer, and that girl is suing. And the guy who owns the classic car in the garage right now attacked her. I pulled him off. Wish I'd pounded him right into the concrete. He's probably going to sue, too. And then somebody tried to light the coffee shop on fire. It wasn't a good attempt, but it could have gone bad."
"None of that sounds good. Are you going to be in trouble?" Her brow wrinkled.
"If he tries to charge me with assault, Erin's going to charge him with assault and attempted rape. We've already reported everything to the sheriff. But it won't stop him from suing, which will take time and money Erin doesn't have."
"Whose car is it?"
"Chaz Cust’s."
Mom's face fell. "That is definitely not good. That boy is no good and his mother is horrible. And they have a lot of money and power."
"Yes, they do. That's why we're working on a surveillance system."
Mom shook her head and sighed. “Be careful, honey.”
“I will.” He dropped Mom off at her house with a hug and a promise to call later in the week, then went home to do laundry. And dream about Erin smiling at him in shorts and a strappy little top.
Chapter 14
Avoidance Isn’t a Good Strategy
Erin finished the invoice on a Chevy, blowing her bangs out of her face. She needed a haircut—it was too hot to wear it this long, falling in her eyes, driving her crazy. Problem was, she had no time for a haircut or anything else. No time at all.
It seemed like every older woman in Marcus—and plenty of not-so-old ladies—brought their cars out for oil changes and everything else under the sun; any excuse to drink coffee and drool over Ryan. Ryan's espresso was getting rave reviews, so business was way up in the drive-through, too, even without the cougar contingent. Erin grinned. All of which was great for her bottom line, but not so much for her time. At least the ladies made appointments for car work. And after word got around, she didn’t have to give the “look, but don’t touch” lecture very often anymore.
With Ryan onboard, everything ran smoothly. He picked up Erin's auto parts before he got off work at Kelly's, so they were sitting in the shop in the morning, and she worked without interruptions, finishing those jobs fast. Tiffany's temper tantrum wasn't a disaster; it was a blessing in disguise.
But in her experience, curses usually balanced blessings. She'd had more than her fair share of curses, so maybe the scale would stay on her side for a while. She sure hoped so.
Erin opened the next car’s hood; another oil change, something she could do in her sleep. She inspected the engine, fluids, and the other filters on auto-pilot. She still hadn't found a new project car, and Cust's blasted Barracuda was still sitting in her shop. She called Peng every week, but he said Cust hadn't decided on a shop to finish the work. The weekly reminder about storage fees didn't bother him at all. Erin had to ask Sam what she could legally do with the thing; she didn't want it here. Cust might use it as an excuse to visit the shop. She never wanted to see the slime ball ever again, especially not in her shop. Although, if he ever cornered her here again, she wouldn't hesitate to take a wrench to his head.
Sam had nothing more on the Adams lawsuit, either. Erin snugged down the last bolt on the air filter cover, resisting the impulse to take her frustrations out on the innocent, and fragile, plastic case. The logger who'd witnessed Tiffany's meltdown finally talked to Sam, and she'd filed an affidavit, but the Adams hadn't replied. They were on a long family vacation. Erin snorted. It must be nice. She'd be happy for a full weekend off, but even with the coffee shop closed, she had too many cars waiting. Sam told her the logger asked her out on a date after she did the paperwork, but she'd reluctantly turned him down as a conflict of interest. Somehow, Erin couldn't see elegant Sam going out with the flannel-and-dirty-overalls-clad logger. Maybe his personality overcame his lack of style, or he cleaned up for Sam. Or maybe Sam was joking. She certainly deserved to find love again, after the disaster of her first marriage.
But, overwhelming everything else, there was Ryan. Every morning, Erin worked in the coffee shop until the commuter rush was over. Technically, there was plenty of room behind the counter for two or three people to work comfortably. But somehow, she and Ryan constantly brushed up against each other, ran into each other, his hard, sexy body rubbing up against hers, his lips far too close. He drove her to distraction.
Then, add in Ryan's personality, and it got her thinking about things she really couldn't have. She slammed the hood closed on the Mazda and checked the time. Well within her estimate; the customer should be happy. She made a note on the paperwork, then leaned against the car fender.
Ryan said little, but his dry and occasionally juvenile sense of humor made her laugh. He was also smart and hardworking and really, horribly wasted as a barista. Or a parts delivery guy.
"Erin?" Ryan leaned through the connecting door.
She forced a smile. "Yeah?"
"Somebody wants to talk to you."
"Who?" Usually, they’d wait in the garage, at the desk.
"Says he's the Custs’ lawyer." His lip curled.
"Tell him to call Samantha Kerr, my lawyer. He's got her info. He should know better than to come here."
"Okay." The door closed.
I'd better call Sam. No answer, so she left a voicemail. Sam's office wasn't open this early. If only Cust would give up.
Ryan entered the shop. "I told him what you said. He claimed he didn't know you had counsel."
