His admiration for her work ethic stirred something familiar within him. His own drive. His own goals. Aiden had finally, finally taken a step toward getting what he wanted when he’d accepted the job at Axle’s. Not that he wouldn’t do what he’d done for his mother a hundred times over, but this was his chance. A new chapter of his life. A brand new day.
Or it would be, as soon as he nutted up and talked to Axle. He needed to quit putting it off, lay out his pitch, and see what his gruff employer thought of it.
Aiden had a break coming up, and no plans other than finding a sandwich shop where he could fill his empty void of a stomach. He could invite Sadie to come with him, get what he knew would be her blatantly honest opinion of the business deal he was considering.
A plan. Simply having one made him feel as if he was halfway to victory. Aiden abandoned the sales floor and walked to Axle’s office. He poked his head through the open door to find Axle sitting at his computer, pecking away at a snail’s pace with the tips of his sausage-like fingers. “I’m going to take a break soon. Cover me?”
Axle turned, the chair beneath him creaking in disagreement. Over a pair of his wife’s flowered pink reading glasses—Axle lost a pair of reading glasses a week, at least—he gave Aiden a solemn stare. “Okay,” he said, his tone revealing nothing.
Aiden headed down the hallway away from Axle’s office, shaking his head as he wondered at his burly boss. Any inside information on how to scale the granite wall that was Axle Zoller would be appreciated. The man was about as readable as a braille instruction manual for complicated electronics.
In the warehouse, Sadie was standing on a stepladder straining for a box just out of reach of her slight height.
“Need a hand?” he asked.
“Oh!” He’d startled her, and Sadie grasped the shelf for support to keep from falling. Over her head, the large box swayed and began to tip.
Aiden rushed for her, and before he’d worked out how to do it, pulled Sadie off the stepladder and folded her into him, protecting her with his body.
And then time stopped.
Her scent wrapped around him, tickling his nostrils and reminding him of holding her as he kissed the sense right out of her. Her silken blonde hair wound softly around his fingertips where his palm cupped the back of her head. The press of her breasts against his chest, the way his arm locked around her lower back, made him want to pull her close and never let her go.
Then, in a cascade of clanks and clatters, the box overhead toppled and delivered an array of parts to the warehouse’s concrete floor. And one heavy piece in particular right into Aiden’s shoulder.
He let out a sound between a growl and a grunt as the sharp edge hit his shoulder, but he didn’t let Sadie go until he was sure it was done raining metal. Only then did he allow her to pull away. She did, slowly, turning those brown eyes up at him as one hand fisted the side of his shirt.
Those petal soft lips parted and all Aiden could think was tasting her…until her eyebrows slammed down and she barked, “What the hell are you doing?”
“What the hell am I doing?” Aiden asked as she backed away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m working.”
“Looks more like you’re trying to get yourself killed.” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but she was yelling at him. She should be thanking him.
Aiden palmed his right shoulder and winced. Now that the adrenaline had ebbed, his shoulder was beginning to throb.
Sadie’s reached out a hand. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he said. “Probably just a scratch.” The pain wasn’t intense. After the bike wreck, intense took on a whole new meaning. Nothing before or since had hurt worse than his back after he’d played chicken with a tree…and lost.
He pulled his hand away to find red liquid on the tips of his fingers.
“Aiden!” Sadie clasped his wrist. “You’re bleeding!”
Pshaw. Merely a flesh wound. “I’m fine.”
Sadie’s frown deepened and she latched onto his wrist, dragging him with her as she sidestepped various mufflers, oil filters, and dash panels scattered across the floor. “Where is a first aid kit?” Her grip was tight for a little thing. She was squeezing his forearm so hard he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to give him first aid.
“I’m fine.” He stopped walking and she sent him a glare over her shoulder. “Bathroom,” he said, giving in and gesturing to the right.
Sadie led him in and opened the mirrored medicine cabinet, rooting around until she found bandages. “Sit,” she commanded, pushing him onto the toilet seat. She wet a pile of paper towels and turned back to him, plucking the edge of his shirt. “Off.”