Now, while the mechanics worked from eight until four-thirty, the supervisors were required to put in ten-hour workdays, though they also had the luxury of an hour lunch period. We had three supervisors on the day shift, two on the swing shift, and two on the graveyard shift. Each supervisor had a crew of twelve men, but everyone answered to Waylon.
I worked a nine to five-thirty shift, which allowed me to communicate with almost the entire department, except for the graveyard crew. However, they were really good about emailing me or leaving me messages if they needed me to handle something for them. I was the only administrative help that the department had, so the guys relied heavily on me. I also helped with issuing parts, brainstorming, and things like that. I guess I was a little bit of everything.
As for the layout, the mechanics had a shop where their personal lockers were at, plus all the machinery that a mechanic could use. There wasn’t any privacy, but they didn’t really need it. However, the shift foremen did have a private office, but it was just a room with six cubicles lined on either side of the room. Each foreman had his own cubicle, but that was about it for privacy.
Now, of course, Waylon had a corner office, though he wasn’t the type to care about crap like that. He was a hands-on kind of department manager, so we often had to hunt him down throughout the facility. The facility’s manager once tried to move Waylon with the other managers, but Waylon had quickly shut that idea down. Waylon was a very respected man among his team, and he wasn’t the type to risk that by kissing up or anything like that.
The supervisors all had their own personal offices, though the word office was a big stretch. The rooms weren’t very big, but they were big enough to house a desk, chair, and one bookshelf. Their doors were always opened though. Closed-door meetings only happened in Waylon’s office.
My office was just as small as that of the supervisors’, but since I wasn’t a six-foot-plus muscular male, my office worked just fine for me. I didn’t need much since we had a records storage building, and since almost everything was computerized, there wasn’t much random paperwork in the place.
However, unlike the supervisors’ offices, my door wasn’t always opened. It wasn’t that I wasn’t welcoming or anything like that, but there were times when I was on a conference call, typing out dictations, or simply on my goddamn period.
Then sometimes-like now-I was rocking out to my playlist, letting the beat ease away all the stress for the day.
With Zedd and Alessia Cara belting out Stay in my office, I was only one beat away from turning my office into a nightclub. Since everyone was already gone, and with the swing shift already doing their rounds, there was only me on the office floor, and I could appreciate the freedom.
When the door to my office opened, did I stop singing?
Hell no, I didn’t.
I looked right at the man that I fantasized about often and kept singing. “’All you have to do is stay a minute, just take your time, the clock is ticking, so stay’.”
Landen started laughing. “Practicing your karaoke?”
I grinned as I lowered the volume on my speaker. “I don’t need practice,” I boasted. “I’m already a star in the making.”
“Never doubted it,” he drawled out.
Turning off the music altogether, I asked, “What are you still doing here?”
“I had a one-on-one that I-”
“Awe, man,” I whined like one of the guys. “Poor Adam.”
Landen arched a brow. “Stop it.”
“You know, there’s a rumor going around,” I teased.
I watched as Landen let out a deep breath, crossed his arms over his sexy chest, then leaned up against the door frame. “Oh, yeah?”
While this could be considered super inappropriate, shop talk happened, and Landen knew it. “There’s speculation that if you got laid on the regular, then maybe you’d chill out a bit,” I told him.
His chin came up, and no lie, Landen Rush really was a sexy sonofabitch. “Is that so?”
I nodded, still grinning. “You know…ease the stress and all that.”
“And how would any of these assholes even know if I was getting laid or not?” he posed.
I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It must just be a guy thing. Like…you guys can sense the levels of testosterone and sperm in the room.”
Landen barked out a choked laugh as his arms dropped to his sides. “Jesus, Skylar.”
“Well, you asked,” I said, defending my ridiculous theory.
“Well, it’d be a lot easier to get laid on the regular if women didn’t catch feelings so easily,” he tossed back, and his words felt very much like the gauntlet being thrown down.
“Oh, really?”
