Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
STELLA
“Double shot flat white, extra hot, no sugar,” I call out as I place the cup on the counter for one of our regulars. Monday mornings at The Enchanted Bean are always busy but today feels particularly chaotic with the post-weekend rush.
“Stella, can you grab the pastries from the back when you get a chance?” Emily asks as she works the register.
“On it,” I reply, but my phone buzzes with a text before I can move. I glance at the screen and immediately feel my blood pressure spike.
UNKNOWN
Hi Stella, just got the updated photos for my Mustang restoration. Those aren’t the right headlights we discussed. They look like modern replacements, not the vintage ones I specifically requested. This isn’t what I’m paying for. - Michael Harrison
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Fucking José. I specifically told him about the vintage headlight requirement last week, and he assured me he had it sorted.
“Everything okay?” Megan asks from the other side of the counter. She’s become a regular fixture here on Monday mornings, claiming she needs the caffeine boost before starting her nursing shifts, but I suspect she just enjoys the gossip.
“Work drama,” I mutter, already dialling the workshop number.
The phone rings three times before Chase picks up. “Doc’s Auto Restoration, Chase speaking.”
“Chase, it’s Stella. I need to speak to José. Now.”
“Uh, sure. He’s right here. Everything all right?”
“Not really. Put him on.”
There’s a brief pause, then José’s voice comes through the speaker. “Hey, Stella, what’s?—”
“Did you install the headlights on Michael Harrison’s Mustang?”
“Yeah, finished it this morning. Looks great.”
“Really? Because I just got an incredibly angry text from the client saying they’re the wrong fucking headlights.”
Silence.
“José?”
“Shit. I thought... I mean, they looked vintage to me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Did you check the part numbers against the specification sheet I gave you?”
“Well, not exactly, but?—”
“Not exactly? José, what part of ‘these need to be period-correct vintage headlights’ did you not understand?”
Emily and Megan are both watching me now, and I can see other customers glancing over at my increasingly heated conversation.
“Look, I can fix it,” José says defensively. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“Not that big a deal? José, this client is paying us eight thousand dollars for this job. The headlights alone cost twelve hundred dollars. Now we have to order the correct ones, wait for delivery, and redo the work, all while explaining to the client why we fucked up something that was clearly specified in the contract.”
“Stella, I’m sorry, I?—”
“Sorry doesn’t fix this mess. I want those headlights removed today.
I’ll contact the supplier about returning them, and I’ll order the correct ones.
In the meantime, you need to call Mr. Harrison and apologise.
Take responsibility for the mistake and assure him we’ll have it sorted by the end of the week. ”
“Can’t you call him? You’re better at that customer service stuff.”
I actually see red. “Customer service stuff? José, this is your mistake. You’re going to own it and fix it. Call him within the hour, or I’ll be having a vastly different conversation with Chase about your attention to detail.”
I hang up before he can respond, my hands shaking slightly with anger.
“Rough morning at the other job?” Megan asks, taking a sip of her coffee and eyeing me sympathetically.
“One of the guys installed the wrong parts on a client’s car. The expensive parts are the wrong parts.”
“Ouch,” Emily winces. “That’s going to be a costly mistake.”
“It’s not about the money—well, it is partly about the money—but it’s about attention to detail.
I specifically went over this with him last week.
” I lean against the counter, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Sometimes I wonder if they think because I’m the office manager, I don’t understand the technical side of things. ”
“Do you?” Emily asks. “Understand the technical side?”
“More than they probably realise. I spent a lot of time at Doc’s workshop when I was younger, before Mum died. I know enough to spot when someone’s cutting corners or not following specifications.”
The morning passes in a blur of coffee orders, and my mind constantly drifts to the workshop.
Specifically, thoughts about Jake—whether he was there when I called, whether he heard me reaming out José.
Part of me hopes he did. Maybe it would show him I’m serious about this job, that I’m not just playing around.
God, why do I care what Jake thinks?
Because Friday night changed everything, and I’m trying to pretend it didn’t.
I told him it couldn’t happen again, that we needed to be professional, but every time I think about it, my body betrays me.
My pulse quickens, heat pools between my legs, and I find myself wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped things.
“Hello,” Emily says, waving a hand in front of my face. “You’ve been staring at that espresso machine for five minutes.”
“Sorry, just thinking.”
“About the hot mechanic?” Megan asks with a knowing smirk.
“About work,” I lie.
“Sure you are. What’s his name again? Jake?”
“Megan—”
“I’m just saying, from what you told me Friday night, it sounds like he’s interested. And you’re definitely interested. Maybe it’s time to stop overthinking and just see what happens.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Only because you’re making it complicated,” Emily chimes in. “When was the last time you were this wound up about a guy?”
“I’m not wound up.”
“No? Earlier, you made four flat whites in a row without being asked. You only do that when you’re stressed or thinking about something else.”
I look down at the counter and realise she’s right. There are indeed four flat whites lined up that no one ordered.
“Shit.”
“Language,” Emily laughs. “But seriously, maybe you should consider that workplace relationships aren’t automatically disasters. Look at me and Tom—we worked together for two years before we started dating.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because you owned the business. There was no risk of you getting fired.”
“There are always complications when you care about someone,” Megan points out. “The question is whether they’re worth it.”
I spend the rest of my shift trying not to think about Jake, which of course means I think about nothing else. By the time I’m heading to Doc’s for the afternoon, I’m stressed out and irritable, still pissed about the headlight situation and confused about my feelings.
The familiar smell of motor oil and metal greets me as I walk into the workshop, along with the sound of power tools and rock music playing from someone’s radio. The guys are all at their workstations, but I can feel Jake’s eyes on me the moment I walk through the door.
I head straight to the office without acknowledging anyone, dumping my bag on the desk and immediately pulling up the supplier’s website to sort out the headlight mess.
“Knock knock,” comes José’s voice from the doorway about ten minutes later.
“What?” I don’t look up from my computer.
“I called Harrison. Apologised and everything. He wasn’t happy, but he said he appreciates us taking responsibility.”
“Good. Did you remove the headlights?”
“Yeah, they’re boxed up and ready to return.”
“Fine. I’ve already contacted the supplier about the return and ordered the correct ones. They’ll be here Wednesday.”
“Look, Stella, I’m really sorry about the mix-up. I thought?—”
“Don’t.” I finally look up at him. “Just don’t make the same mistake again. Check every part against the specification sheet before you install anything. I don’t care if you think it looks right—verify it.”
He nods and leaves, and I go back to my computer, trying to focus on the pile of invoices that need processing.
“Rough day?”
I look up to see Jake standing in the doorway, holding what looks like a cupcake from the bakery down the street.
“What gave it away?”
“The fact that José looks like he wants to hide under his workbench, and you haven’t looked up from that computer since you got here.”
He steps into the office and places the cupcake on my desk. It’s chocolate with cream cheese frosting—my favourite, though I don’t remember ever telling him that.
“How did you know I like chocolate cupcakes?”
“Lucky guess,” he says with a slight smile. “Plus, you looked like you could use some sugar.”
I pick up the cupcake and take a bite. It’s perfect—moist and rich and exactly what I needed.
“Thank you.”
“Rough morning at the coffee shop?”
“Rough morning dealing with the aftermath of José’s attention to detail issues.”
Jake leans against the doorframe, and I can’t help but notice how his coveralls fit across his chest, how his dark hair is slightly messed up from working.
“He feels bad about it.”
“He should. It was a costly mistake that could have been easily avoided.”
“You’re right. But maybe go easy on him? He’s not used to having someone hold him accountable.”
“Well, he better get used to it. I’m not here to babysit grown men who can’t follow basic instructions.”
Something flickers in Jake’s eyes—approval, maybe? “Good. Don’t let anyone walk over you.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
He steps closer, and suddenly the office feels much smaller. “I like seeing this side of you.”
“What side?”
“The side that doesn’t take shit from anyone. It’s sexy as hell.”
My breath catches, and I can feel heat rising in my cheeks. “Jake?—”
“I know, I know. Professional boundaries.” He holds up his hands but doesn’t back away. “But I can’t help it, Stella. When you get all fired up like this, it makes me want to?—”
“Want to what?”
“Kiss you until you forget why you’re angry.”
I swallow, my heart beating frantically at his words. At the way he’s looking at me like he means it. At the way the air shifts, growing thick with tension, and for a split second, I forget we’re at work, forget all the reasons why this is a bad idea.
“Stella!” Arden’s voice cuts through the moment, and Jake immediately steps back as footsteps approach the office.
“Arden,” I acknowledge, trying to compose myself as he appears in the doorway.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Jake, if you don’t mind, could you give us a minute? I need to talk to Stella about something.”
Jake nods and leaves, but not before giving me a look that promises this conversation isn’t over.
“How are things going?” Arden asks, settling into the chair across from my desk.
“Good. Challenging, but good. I’m making progress with the backlog, and the new systems are starting to show results.”
“So I’ve heard. Chase tells me client complaints have dropped dramatically, and we’re ahead on invoicing for the first time in months.”
“There’s still a lot of work to do, but yes, we’re heading in the right direction.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He leans forward, his expression becoming more serious. “How would you feel about making this a full-time position?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Full-time?”
“I know you’ve only been here a week, but you’ve already proven your value. The coffee shop is great, but I think you’re capable of much more.”
“I... what would that look like?”
“Complete oversight of the business operations. Financials, client relations, staff coordination, project management—essentially, you’d be my operations manager.”
“That’s a big step up from office admin.”
“It is. Which is why I’m prepared to offer you a starting salary of one hundred thousand dollars.”
I nearly choke on my cupcake. “One hundred thousand?”
“Plus bonuses based on performance targets. If you can get this place running at full efficiency and help us expand like I want to, that number could go significantly higher.”
My mind is reeling. One hundred thousand dollars is more than double what I would make in a year combining both my current jobs.
“That’s... that’s a very generous offer.”
“It’s what you’re worth. And frankly, it’s what this business needs. I want to bring in more staff, take on bigger projects, maybe even expand to a second location eventually. But I can’t do any of that without someone I trust running the day-to-day operations.”
“What about the team? How would they feel about me being promoted so quickly?”
“The team respects results. And you’ve already shown them you can deliver.” He pauses. “Plus, I get the feeling they’re starting to see you as part of the family.”
Something in his tone makes me look at him more carefully. “Is there something else?”
“Just that I want you to know there are no policies here about personal relationships between staff members. I mean, I work with my wife every day in my other businesses. If it doesn’t interfere with work performance, I couldn’t care less what consenting adults do in their spare time.”
Heat floods my cheeks. Does he know about Jake and me? Is it that obvious?
“I’m not sure what you’re implying?—”
“I’m not implying anything,” he says with a slight smile. “Just making sure you understand that this is a progressive workplace. We care about results, not personal lives.”
“I see.”
“I’m also bringing in some additional help. Rhys will be starting part-time next week to handle automotive electrical work. He’s studying law full-time, so he can’t commit to more hours, but he’s brilliant with car electronics.”
“That’s good. We could use the extra hands.”
“I’m also actively looking for more mechanics and another admin person to work under you. The goal is to double our capacity within the next six months.”
The scope of what he’s proposing is staggering. It’s everything I’ve been working toward without even realising it.
“I don’t need an answer right now,” Arden continues. “But I’d like you to think about it. Talk it over with family, friends, whoever you trust. But Stella? Don’t underestimate what you’re capable of. You’ve got something special.”
After he leaves, I sit in my office staring at the cupcake Jake brought me, my mind spinning.
One hundred thousand dollars.
Operations manager.
The chance to build something real.
There are no policies here about personal relationships between staff members.
And Jake’s words echoing in my head: “Kiss you until you forget why you’re angry.”
Maybe Megan and Emily are right. Maybe I am overthinking everything.
Maybe it’s time to stop being so damn professional and start being honest about what I want.