Talk Flirty To Me: Cheap Thrills, #4

By Mary B. Moore

Katy 

Ever felt like you've had a crush on someone your whole life, but they never see you back? That's what it felt like with Jarrod Kline. I worked in the same building as him, I gave him his jobs, I took his order for lunch… but that was it. 

Being shy didn't help either. I wanted to be like the other women around me – ballsy, a go-getter, confident… I wanted to be like Tabby, Jose, Rose, and the Townsend women. 

Then, one night after a lot of margarita consumption, we hatched a plan – the 'Get Yo Man Plan', aka GYMP. Now that I'm sober, I realize what we've called it, but the GYMP is motion and it's too late to turn back now.

 

Jarrod

I was the longest baby the day I was born, the tallest in preschool, the tallest in kindergarten… you get the point, I've always stood out. The problem was, I was also uncomfortable with it. For once I wanted to not be seen, to do something that no one could see me doing. 

I'd looked into how to become an audiobook narrator after Tabby's suggestion, and it seemed easy enough. So now I was a mechanic by day and an audiobook narrator by night, but only a couple of people knew about that last part.

And then Katy started working at the garage, and the scenes I'd been uncomfortable reading they took on a whole new meaning.

I just have one question, what the hell is GYMP?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary B. Moore
• Release date: Jun 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201850784

Book preview

Chapter One

Jarrod

It wasn’t unheard of for a mechanic to have to reattach a bumper that had come off a car. It also wasn’t unheard of to have to fix areas of a vehicle that had become twisted or dented because of an accident. What was unheard of was to have to remove pieces of metal that had been welded to the underside of the car – which had almost ripped a hole in the undercarriage – that had part of an industrial chain still attached to it, fix a new bumper to the vehicle because the other one looked like it had been hit by a semi, and also patch up nine holes that had gone straight through the bodywork of the car when the chain had snapped and whipped into it.

The question I had was – why was there a chain attached to the underside of the vehicle? And for that matter, why did it look like a Transformer had attacked the bumper? 

And finally, why was Hurst Townsend standing next to his friend, Bill Richards, whose car was in the same condition, looking so guilty and worried?

Scratching the back of my neck, I tried to figure out how best to phrase it all, but there was only one thing for it. It’s fucked, Hurst. I mean, we can fix it, but I’m thinking insurance won’t cover this.

Bill’s body straightened up and stiffened at this and, with his head tipped back so he was looking at the ceiling, he hissed, Shit!

Avoiding my eyes, Hurst looked around us and then winced when he saw the damage to the cars again. Uh, is there any way to do this like… well, off the books?

Not understanding what he was asking for, I repeated, Off the books?

Clearing his throat, he gestured at his vehicle. Yeah, so that no one knows.

Now it was my turn to look around us, but I did it with good reason. Um, Hurst, we’re standing in your grandson’s garage. One of them will most likely end up working on this with me, but even if they didn’t, they’re going to recognize the car, I drawled, and then looked over at the other man who was now chewing on his lip. And your grandson’s a deputy here, so he probably knows y’all had an accident, right?

Muttering something under his breath, Bill plastered a smile on his face and nodded. Absolutely, of course he does. As soon as it happened we rang him and reported it. Didn’t we, Hurst?

Crossing my arms, I watched Hurst try to think of his addition to this merry tale. I wasn’t buying it for a second – these two were trouble together, and this wasn’t the first ‘mishap’ to their cars we’d had to fix.

Snapping his fingers, Hurst spun around with a smile on his face – although it had to be said it was one of relief. Yup, sure did. As soon as it happened we rang through and he came out to inspect it and wrote it all down in his notepad.

I see, I hummed, walking around to the other side of Bill’s car and almost choking when I saw that the rear panel was completely missing and the chain attached to his car was now wrapped around the axle. And what exactly happened?

They exchanged a few glances, and then Bill shook his head and took a step back, leaving Hurst to answer the question. 

It was a hit and run?

What exactly hit you?

It was too dark for us to see.

Turning to face Bill, I watched him take a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipe his forehead. How did it hit both of you at the same time?

Sighing, he hunched his shoulders and looked at the floor. Pure luck, I guess.

And where did the chain come from?

By this point the poor man was almost bent over in two as he repeated, Pure luck, I guess.

Hearing a noise from the office that overlooked the garage, I glanced up and saw another person who confused me – albeit in a good way – Katy Crew. She was staring incredulously at the two vehicles until Hurst moved and caught her attention, then she rolled her eyes and shook her head, the questions in her mind over the type of damage answered immediately. Amen, babe, amen.

Dragging my attention back to the two old miscreants in front of me, I asked, And what did Logan think about it all?

Um, not much. He just wrote in his little book and that was it.

Raising an eyebrow, I made to reach for the phone in my back pocket, making it clear what I was going to do.

Ok, fine, Hurst snapped, throwing his arm out toward his friend. Bill and me started having ‘man night’ every other Thursday three months ago.

Taking in a fidgeting Bill, I knew I’d kick myself for it, but I just had to know. Man night? 

Oh, I knew what one of those was, absolutely, but Bill and Hurst were in their seventies so I was trying to figure out an age relevant version of the type I was familiar with.

Tilting his chin up slightly, Hurst narrowed his eyes at me. Yeah, guys our age have those and it doesn’t have to be playing Bridge or watching a black and white movie, ya know.

Nothing wrong with black and white movies, I loved them. I also loved the dubbed over martial arts movies, too, but to the best of my knowledge, no one had ever wrecked their cars because of them.

Seeing that I was still waiting, he sighed, Ok, so we got to watching this movie with fast cars in it, and there was a scene where they stole a safe from a police station and drove it through Brazil.

Immediately my head dropped so that I was staring at the toes of my boots, knowing exactly which movie he was talking about. You watched Fast Five, didn’t you?

Fast & Furious 5 was my favorite out of them all, but it tied with the sixth one where they went to the UK and found Letty. The one he was talking about involved Vin Diesel and Paul Walker breaking a huge safe out of the police station in Brazil by attaching chains and dragging it out of a wall and through the streets with their cars. It was a fucking awesome movie and one of the smartest plots ever, but it was also impossible to do – as Bill and Hurst had apparently found out.

That was the one, Bill muttered, looking at the cars and wincing. I wanted to add some Noz to them and build a ten second car so we could race for pinks, but he, he nodded his head at Hurst, wanted to do this.

Rubbing the back of my neck, torn between laughing and losing my shit, I tried to picture them dragging a big safe behind them. What kind of safe did you use and where did you tear it out of?

That’s irrelevant, Hurst mumbled, looking around the garage again, no doubt for one of his grandsons.

Apparently Bill was in a sharing mood, though, because he pulled his phone out and brought a photo up on the screen. This was it. I had it in my shed out back, hidden behind a wooden wall. Can never be too safe even if you live in a small town like ours, so I went all out. It cost a fortune and weighs a ton, but it’s good. He told me, and then added, "At least it was good. I’m not sure about it now."

The photo showed what looked like a standard safe, about five feet high and four feet across, obviously taken before they’d dragged it behind their cars. 

You got one that shows it now? 

Sliding his finger across the screen a couple of times, he stopped on one that showed that the safe was in fact still shut tight, but the outside walls of it looked like a supernatural creature had been at them. 

Rubbing my face with my hands now, I muttered, Jesus.

Before I could ask any more questions, though, Cole Townsend walked through the side door of the garage and burst out laughing when he saw his grandad standing there. I’d be hiding too if I was you, old man. Gammy is pissed, and when I say pissed, I mean the last time I saw her she was talking about staking you down so the bull could get at you.

Hurst’s face went almost gray hearing this, and he swung around to face me again. You’ve gotta fix the cars. If you do that, I can deny all of it.

A disbelieving whistle came from the door, and this time Ren walked through it and headed in our direction. You’re in so much shit, Gramps. I just came from… he stopped as he saw the cars, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times. 

Walking around to see what his brother was staring at, Cole made a choking noise when he saw it. What the fuck?

Deciding that the safest thing to do would be to make a break for it, Hurst got one step into his run when a big arm shot out in front of him, and Coleman snickered, Oh no, not this time.

Seeing that everyone was focused on Hurst now, Bill started inching toward the door, realizing that his path to freedom was wide open. Or at least it had been, until Tom Townsend stopped in the doorway with his arms over his chest, Logan Richards at his back giving his grandpa the same look the Townsends were now giving Hurst.

Apparently his solution to the look was to act like he hadn’t seen Logan in years, so that’s what he did. Hey, son, you look like you’ve grown two inches since I last saw you. How’re your parents? They good? I should probably pop round and see them, you know. It’s been a long time.

Moving past Tom who was still in the doorway, Logan straightened to his full height and glared down at Bill. You saw them yesterday, I’m thinking before you and your friend decided to rip up the road with a safe, leave it embedded in the road with chains still attached to it and part of y’all’s cars. Am I right?

Shaking his head, Bill went straight into denial. Nope, nuh unh. I’m seventy-six, Hurst’s seventy-three, we’re too old to do that. I mean, where’d we get the chains? We’re living on our pensions, which means Ramen noodles and bread for dinner.

From the barn, Ren clipped. And don’t give me that shit about pensions and Ramen noodles. Both y’all eat just fine and worked hard enough not to have to rely on your pensions to survive.

Nodding his head like the source he’d gotten the chains from was plausible and ignoring the comment about his pension, Bill then retorted, Ok, where’d we get the stuff to attach them to the safe and cars then?

Leaning into the open trunk of one of the vehicles, Cole pulled out the welding machine that Ren had bought for the garage two months previously. I knew it was the same one because it had the label he’d printed out for it that read: This cost a fucking whack. You break it, you replace it. RT. And it had cost a whack, roughly four thousand whacks. 

Seeing something else, Cole let out a frustrated growl and reached in for it, coming back out with a pair of Oakley’s dangling from his finger.

You used these to protect your eyes? Seriously? You only just gave me these last week for my birthday.

My eyes flicked to Logan when he looked back at his own grandpa and growled, Is that why you borrowed my Ray-Bans?

Totally unsympathetic to the misuse of their sunglasses, Ren ground out, You stole my welding machine to attach a safe to your car?

Yeah, but I followed the what you put on the label and didn’t break it. In fact, we looked after it and kept it on us the whole time, Hurst replied with an innocent smile on his face.

Jesus take the wheel. In fact, take all four of the wheels on both cars so they’d never drive them again.

Taking a step closer to his grandad, Ren growled, You did that by putting it in the back of your car which was attached to a safe - a safe you dragged for half a mile behind those cars until it got stuck in the road and ripped your cars apart.

But it was still safe, Hurst pointed out. No pun intended.

That was when Ren lost his shit. The trunk of the fucking car doesn’t even close because half of what it needs to do that is still attached to the fucking safe. Hurst wisely didn’t respond to that verbally, although the blush on his cheeks said it all. And it’s not about the welding machine, it’s about the danger you put yourselves and anyone driving along that road in.

Leaning around his grandson, Bill offered, We weren’t in any danger, Ren. We welded roll bars in the car like in the movie. All of our heads snapped to look back at the cars, not seeing any of the bars mentioned. They came off when we got loose from the safe, but Hurst said that was ‘cos the welding machine was shit, not ‘cos… he stopped when Ren turned the full force of his glare on him. Shutting up now.

Figuring now was the best time to leave the men to deal with their grandfathers, I shifted away from them and toward the stairs that led to the office. After this, I needed coffee, preferably with rum in it. Lots of rum. 

Opening the door, I shut it softly behind me, not wanting to scare Katy who was standing at the coffee machine herself, staring at something on the wall in front of her. Yo!

It wasn’t yelled, it wasn’t snapped, it sounded like I’d said it gently to my ears, but she jumped and then let out a noise like a yelpy squeak as she looked over her shoulder at me. Katy Crew, aka Katarianne Crew, was the quintessential ‘sweet girl’ as my mom called them. That didn’t mean she was boring, homely, or anything like that – it meant that she was so damn pretty that you’d never expect her to have the beautiful personality that she had. Katy would give you the shirt off her back if you needed it, and everything she did let you know this. My mom calling it the ‘sweet girl syndrome’ purely meant that she was as sweet on the outside as she was on the inside. I was of the mind that it should be ‘fucking awesome girl’ syndrome, but my ma wasn’t big on cussing, so I kept that one to myself.

Right now, seeing her wide blue eyes on me, I was even more adamant that fucking awesome should be the terminology used to describe her. The center of her eyes were a medium blue color, but they had an even darker blue ring around the edge of them and were framed with long dark brown lashes, the same color as her hair. 

Jerking to look at something in front of her, she then glanced back at me. Hey, sorry, I didn’t hear you coming up the steps.

I was a big guy – six foot seven inches tall – but I’d learned to tread lightly as a kid so that I could either get the drop on one of my brothers, or sneak out the house without waking my parents up. I didn’t see the point in stomping or treading heavily as an adult, regardless of where I was, because that expended energy that I didn’t want to waste. Noise also drew attention to you, and I hated doing that, so I tried to minimize anything that would get people’s focus on me unless it was necessary.

I’d always been tall, even in kindergarten, and it had drawn people’s attention. I also had greeny hazel eyes that had a dark ring of blue around my pupils, so they got people’s attention, too, because being half Jamaican they stood out even more. In high school I’d bought colored contacts to hide them, but once I got them in my eyes the first time I couldn’t get them back out again. It took my brothers holding my head still for Dad to get them out, after which he’d flushed them down the toilet. My brothers had similarly colored eyes, so they’d got it, but Dad had sat us down and lectured us about loving what the good Lord had given us and how we were to use it to make us who we were going to be through life. 

That advice had stuck with me and on the whole that’s what I did, but I still tried to fade into the background as much as I could. Part of that fading included walking softly, and I’d managed to scare Katy just now without meaning to. I’m sorry if I scared you. I came up to get some coffee and get away from that, I pointed over my shoulder at where the men - who were now arguing - were.

The side of her mouth tilted up slightly when we heard Tom yell something, the noise echoing inside the garage. Yeah, I saw that. I’m not going to ask what they did because it’s Hurst. That man is a law unto himself. With her back still facing me, she took a couple of steps sideways away from the coffee machine. Help yourself, I just opened a new box of pods for it.

Moving to where she’d just been, I reached for a cup and saw a puddle of coffee on the counter as I placed it in the machine. That wasn’t unusual, and she’d probably been about to clean it up, so I wiped it with paper towels while my cup filled so she had one less thing to do. The guys here were slobs, that’s the only way to put it. They spilled, they dropped, they did whatever, and rarely did they go back to try to clean up after themselves unless it was to put tools back. Hell, most of the paperwork was covered in oily fingerprints because they didn’t wipe their hands off first. I was guilty of that myself, but I wasn’t guilty of not picking up my shit, and I knew Katy had OCD tendencies so it had to drive her crazy.

Once the coffee was done, I threw the towels in the trash, grabbed my cup and gave her a chin lift as I turned back to the door. I wasn’t immune to Katy Crew, in fact far from it, but because she always left me feeling off center, I tried to keep our interactions quick and casual. It wasn’t because I was shy, I just didn’t know what to say or do around her, so it was easier this way.

Closing the door quietly behind me, I blew out a breath and made my way back down the steps toward the car I’d been working on before Hurst and Bill had arrived. The Townsends were still arguing it out, so I resigned myself as I got back to work to the fact that it was going to be another eventful day. Fucking joy!

Katy

As soon as the door shut behind Jarrod, I pulled my coffee drenched top away from my boobs and let out the little squeal I’d done my best to smother when I’d jumped and tipped the hot coffee on them as he’d said yo. 

Hot tits, hot tits!

Moving quickly to the small bathroom, I grabbed a chunk of paper towels and wet them with cold water, lifted my t-shirt up and placed them on the red skin. Fortunately, I had a change of clothes with me seeing as how getting dirty here was a common occurrence, but that didn’t stop me worrying about long lasting damage to the area the hot water had landed on.

Lifting the wet towels up, I looked at the skin and figured I’d probably get away without needing to bandage my entire chest, which would mean having to explain it to someone here because it started at my collarbones and they’d see the dressings. That would mean I’d probably be known as the chick with burned boobies, something I’d really rather not happen.

Slightly burned boobies, though, that I could live with.

Chapter Two

Katy

I’d only just dried my bra out with the hand drier and changed my t-shirt when the door to the office opened and in came some of the Townsend women. When I’d started working here six months ago, they’d all come in and introduced themselves to me and we’d become friends, so I had coffee with at least one of them every day while I was working. 

Hey, babe, what’s shaking, Ren’s wife Maya called as she plonked her ass down on one of the chairs in the room. With her were her sister-in-laws Ebru, Sabine, and Layla, and Isla Montgomery who was married to Luke Montgomery and who was a close family friend of the Townsends.

Sweeping my hand in a wave at them all, I moved back behind my desk and dropped down into my chair, shaking my head. Jarrod came in twenty minutes ago and when I jumped because he walks like a ghost on those stairs so I hadn’t heard him, I got coffee all over me, I gestured to my boob area, nodding when they all winced. Freshly made coffee, too, so I’ve just had to get changed.

Resting one butt cheek on the edge of my desk, Layla grinned down at me. Bet you gave him the wet t-shirt shot of his dreams. What color was your top? You got lace on under it today?

Leaning away from her, I ruined her excited vibe. I hid it from him because I didn’t want to look like a dick.

I mean, how the hell could spilling coffee and burning your boobs equal a sexy wet t-shirt shot? It was coffee, this was a garage, they were my boobs, so they definitely didn’t fit into the sexy category (more like boringly average), and Jarrod would probably have preferred a Playboy style bunny doing it. With water. And huge gadunkadunks that screamed ‘these are for you, Jarrod Kline’. I was only just a C cup, I was me, I was also only five foot seven with heels on – and even then that