A Restored Man (8 page)

"C'mon, kid, you're working with me again today," Jeff said, corralling Cole to his station a moment before he spotted Ty exiting his office. His new boss raised a hand in greeting before making his way to the bays on the other end of the shop.

Cole's shoulders slumped. "I take it there isn't a chance we're going to work with an exotic today," he grumbled.

Jeff laughed. "No. And I know that's probably driving you crazy. I'm surprised you've held off this long."

Cole shrugged. He was actually hoping Jeff would magically turn into Ty but he knew better than to blurt out that truth. He worked well with Jeff and the old man was a hell of a smartass. If he couldn't work with Ty or an exotic, Jeff was a solid alternative. "What are we working on today?"

"We're replacing the transmission on this one," the older man said, preparing the area.

"Okay." Cole reached for the work mats and began laying out the items for the job.

* * * * *

Ty took a quick inventory of the parts needed for the next phase of the Yenko restoration. He had to take a break from the service tickets he'd been working endlessly on for the past few weeks.

"Ty, you around?" the voice said followed by a beep.

He grabbed his radio. "Yeah, Sawyer. What's up?" He handed off the sheets to Stacie with his notes on the parts to order. Stacie nodded as his radio chirped again.

"Can you come back here?"

"On my way," he said. He walked through the two bays and reached the booth where Sawyer paced with his paint mask pulled up at the top of his head. "What's up?"

"Katey went into labor. And I—"

"So go," Ty said, taking the radio from his worker's hand. Sawyer and his wife had tried for too many years to have a baby and her entire pregnancy had been riddled with complications.

"Shit, Ty. The timing's all messed up right now. I want to go but I need to finish the panels I started or they'll get all screwed up and I haven't had a chance to—"

"Go. You need to be there," he stressed.

"It might be another false alarm," Sawyer said, exhaling a deep breath.

"And it might not be. You want to live with that? Go, I'll finish here and I'll get some help with the rest."

Sawyer looked at him and chewed his lip. "Who are you going to get?"

"Don't worry about it. Get out of here already. Every minute counts," he said, shoving the extra radio in his pocket and snatching the mask off the top of Sawyer's head. "Go, it's fine."

Sawyer stood there, staring at the ground. "I'm going to be a dad," he whispered.

Ty put his hand on Sawyer's shoulder and tugged on him to get him to react. "You're turning a little green there."

"Oh, shit. I gotta go," Sawyer said, finally looking up with a startled expression and then running out of the bay.

Ty went into the booth to assess what still needed to be done. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Sawyer's schedule had been erratic lately and the amount of work that needed to be done had snowballed. He should have known better than to take on a custom eighteen-wheeler rig project, something far outside of his usual realm of commissions. He couldn't risk waiting until Sawyer returned—whenever that would be—to resume the project. He grabbed his radio. "Stacie, can you come over to paint booth two with the roster and the Drayton schedule please?"

"I'll be right there," she responded immediately.

She appeared just as he was moving one of the panels to the other paint booth. "Yes, sir?"

"Sawyer had to leave. Katey's in labor. Who do we have available on the roster who can do paint work on such short notice for today and tomorrow and most of next week?" he asked, setting up the other stand in the booth. He glanced up when Stacie didn't respond.

She tapped the pen on her clipboard repeatedly until she finally spoke. "The only person is Leo but—"

"But he leaves this weekend for his brother's wedding," he said, finishing her sentence.

"Yes, sir. We don't have anyone else available for short-term paint work and custom work unless we contact Manny."

Ty shook his head. "No, he's good but a last minute call will hike up the price and bump the schedule. Drayton was promised end of month. So we've got a little over two weeks to finish. Do me a favor," he said, grabbing another part to prep for paint. "Pull Jeff aside. Go to my office or wherever you have some privacy and have him radio me, please."

"Yes, sir," she said and darted out of the booth, the click-clack of her heels echoing in the open bay. Ty still didn't understand why Stacie opted to walk in heels rather than use one of the golf carts he had. He shook his head and resumed setting up the parts.

Within a few minutes, his radio chirped. "Yes, boss."

Ty straightened and wiped the sweat from his brow. He believed in easing someone into a job but he didn't have much of a choice right now. "Jeff, I need an honest answer."

"Shoot," Jeff responded.

"Was Cole as sharp on the tech as he said he was?"

"Sharper. The kid's a total gearhead. I think he drinks motor oil or something. It's just not natural. What he doesn't know, he absorbs like a sponge on the first try. That's why the guys are fighting over him here and don't want to give him up to the exotic team even though I think that might be making him a little edgy. I think he's been itching to get his hands on the power cars. But a warning," Jeff said and hesitated.

A smile tugged at Ty's lips, knowing the guys were all settling in well with Cole. For some reason, he knew that would be important to his new hire. "Go ahead," he said into the radio.

"There isn't a modest bone in that kid's body. Smug little bastard."

Ty smiled. "That's not a newsflash. What happened?"

"He corrected my process twice. One of those times, if he hadn't caught the problem, I would have been set back about two hours on the rebuild just to troubleshoot the issue."

"If he can paint, I'm stealing him from you."

Jeff's laughter came through the radio. "Oh, that boy can paint. He rattled off a huge list of everything he can do with cars. Like I said, smug little bastard."

Ty's lips twitched into a smile again. "Thanks, Jeff. Have Stacie send him back to the paint booths, please."

"Will do," Jeff responded.

Ty was setting up the stands in the neighboring paint booth when he heard Cole's booted steps near. After the stands were ready, he grabbed the project sketch and taped it to the wall.

"You need me to paint?" Cole asked with a huge grin on his face.

"Can you?" Ty raised an eyebrow and held back a smile.

Cole extended his hand, palm up. "Give me a paint suit and mask and let me have at it."

Jeff's right. Smug little bastard.
"I've got the two booths set up. We need to finish priming the panels then I'll tape off the guides so we can move on to color." Ty walked over to the sketch taped on the wall. "This is what we're matching."

Cole followed and tilted his head upward to study the drawing.

Ty couldn't resist taking advantage of a little bit of info Jeff had told him about his new hire after the first few days. He removed the taped sketch and retaped it lower.

Cole looked at him sideways. "I'm not short. I'm concentrated."

"How tall are you? About five-six, five-seven," Ty teased.

Cole turned to face him and crossed his arms, straightening himself to his full height. "I'm five-nine."

Ty looked down at Cole's combat boots. "With those big boots, maybe."

Cole raised an eyebrow. "Careful. I'll unleash my Napoleon complex on you."

Ty laughed.

Cole tightened his lips, obviously holding back a smile and returned his focus to the sketch. "How much of the paint work is finished?"

"Not much. My painter kept odd hours because his wife was in and out of the hospital lately. I was on another project and wasn't keeping tabs on the progress."

"Does Stacie keep tabs on schedules?" Cole stilled then tugged on his beanie. "Sorry, I'm guessing I shouldn't have said that. I don't want to get her in trouble."

Ty waved him off. "It's fine. Stacie doesn't do project management. She keeps tabs on the worker's schedule, inventory, customer orders and requests, pretty much everything other than the project management. I'm the one who does that and it's my fault. I've been working on a different project and didn't realize how far behind we were at this stage."

Cole nodded and continued to stare at the drawing. "I thought you only worked with cars, exotics—"

"I know, I know. I didn't have a choice here. The client owns a few exotic dealerships and wants to haul his cars in a custom trailer. I do all their shop work and they forward any mod work my way."

Cole smirked. "And, of course, the rig is a two-tone paint job, which'll take longer."

Ty sighed. "Murphy's Law in full force." He directed Cole to his paint booth and asked him to finish setting up the rest of the area to prep for primer. He then grabbed the primer buckets and spray guns.

"These aren't ready for primer yet," Cole yelled from the neighboring booth after a few moments.

Ty walked over and saw Cole rubbing his hand along the panel.

Cole looked up at Ty and scowled. "They're not sanded enough."

Ty joined Cole in the booth and felt the surface of the panel.
Dammit
. This was going to throw off the schedule further. "We need to check the other ones."

Cole nodded. "You prep for primer, I'll work on getting these ready." He didn't even wait for Ty to respond. He lifted the door panel above his head and walked off to the sanding booth.

Ty stood stock-still, staring at the flex of muscles in Cole's thick arms as they firmly held the panel above his head. He shook his head to dispel the visual and shifted his focus back to work. He separated the pieces that still needed to be sanded and hauled them over to the sanding station.

He put on his paint suit and mask and settled in for a long day's work.

* * * * *

Cole set up the door panel for sanding and looked around the booth for the supplies. One thing he had picked on up quickly was that everything needed to get the job done was there and efficiently organized. He opened a cabinet in the corner and smiled. Shelves neatly sorted with sanding masks, goggles, and disposable coveralls in different sizes. He looked over his shoulder to make sure he was alone and peeked at the sizes of the coveralls, checking for the right size. Wearing a coverall that needed to be rolled up at the sleeves and feet would have opened the door for more short jokes. Although he loved his new boss's teasing streak, there was a lot of work that needed to get done.

He put on his gear and started sanding the door. He had missed working on cars. He could swear he had died from Aidan's blow to the face at some point because this was pure heaven. Working on an engine rebuild and now prepping for a custom paint job on a fricken eighteen-wheeler enclosed auto hauler. Something new, something cool. Pure. Fucking. Heaven.

If he got anywhere near that restoration project or the Bugatti, he'd come in his pants.

He sanded the door as the music played in his head. He pushed the sandpaper as he hummed, lowering his line of sight to make sure everything looked smooth. He walked around the door panel, bobbing his head to the rhythm of a song only he could hear. He finished sanding and ended with a shake of his hips and a twist.

And there was Ty, arms crossed, leaning against the door, watching him through the glass opening with a grin plastered across his face.

Cole straightened and opened the booth door. He lifted his goggles and pulled the face mask off to the side of his neck. "Enjoy the show?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and a smile he hoped mirrored Ty's.

Ty shook his head and chuckled. He pushed past Cole, walked over to the panel, and touched the surface. "Nice." He continued to check and touch the door panel as he spoke. "You usually work to music?"

Cole shrugged. "Depends on what I'm doing. It settles me and helps me zone out the trillion things always spinning in my head."

Ty looked at him appraisingly. "I've got all the parts here that need some sanding. Not many but it'll take some time. You want to handle this while I prime?"

"Sure."

Ty nodded and reached for the sanded door panel. He lifted the part and flinched just as his grip faltered.

Cole instinctively grabbed and held the panel to avoid it from hitting the ground and getting a dent.

"Shit," Ty said, bent over with his hands fisted. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Hey, it's cool. I got it," Cole said, cautiously watching Ty slowly straighten with a wince. "You might have pulled something when you were moving around all those parts." He didn't know what to say but knew he needed to say something to ease the crease between Ty's brows.

Ty finally stood and grabbed his side then quickly tucked his hands in his pockets. "Uh, yeah," he said. He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "You got this?"

Cole nodded. "Yup. I'll have all these sanded soon then I'll help with the priming. I'll take the parts over there when I'm finished."

Ty forced another smile. "Okay," he said before turning. "Oh, I almost forgot…" He walked over to the white box mounted on the opposite wall that looked like a thermostat. "Not sure if what plays here gets you in the zone as much as the tunes in your head, but you can have music playing in the booth while you work." He pressed a button and adjusted a dial, flooding the booth with music.

Cole closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his heart mimicked the thump of the bass drum keeping time in the song. He opened his eyes and Ty was watching him again, his smile less forced. He raised an eyebrow and bit back a grin. "Another show's about to start, so you better get back to work before you get all hot and bothered when I start shaking my ass."

Ty laughed with that low rumble that vibrated through Cole's body. "Let me know if you need me," he said before exiting the booth and leaving Cole to finish his work.

They worked seamlessly for the next few hours, Cole sanding while Ty primed. As Cole finished the panels, he'd carry them over to the paint booth and prep them for Ty to prime, then signal him when the new parts were ready. He carried the last of the panels and set them aside. He was ready to jump into painting when he spotted Ty working. He inched back and watched Ty through the small square window. The sweep of his arm as he sprayed the paint back and forth flowed with the grace and elegance of a musical conductor. There was a confidence in each swift motion of his arm Cole hadn't ever seen in another painter. He was mesmerizing.