Duke scoffed. “Why? You’re kinky, not gay. So obviously she has what you need in her wheelhouse just fine.”

“Shut the fuck up. You know what I mean.”

Asa liked percussive toys. Crops and paddles, mostly. He loved the sound of the crop splitting the air right before it landed on skin. Loved the crack of that contact. Loved the sound a woman made when she really liked it.

He couldn’t imagine PJ’s reaction if he ordered her over his knees, hands flat on the ground as he paddled her, each strike placed right so that the force traveled straight to her clit.

Of course, now that he’d thought it, the image of her, skin pinked from a leather slapper, whimpering until he walked his fingertips from her thighs up through her pussy had cemented itself in his imagination.

She’d be wet. So wet and hot her body would melt around his fingers when he teased inside.

“Yeah, so if you could stop thinking about whatever it is you want to do with her, that’d be great. You’re making me uncomfortable now.”

Asa gave Duke a look. “Can I help you with anything else? In case it missed your notice, we’re at work and there are things to do that aren’t about fucking with me for amusement.”

“None of them are as much fun, though. I need to call to check in on a special order I thought was coming today instead of your stuff. When I’m done I’ll come out and help.”

“For a dick you’re pretty cool sometimes. Thanks.” Asa grabbed one of the hair band things Lottie kept bringing him – so he’d stop using her rubber bands – got his hair up and out of his face, and headed down to get back to work. And to pretend his office didn’t smell like that spicy perfume she wore.

Chapter Six

Julie gave her an encouraging smile from her place at the other end of the table. It was the second Wednesday of the month, so all the top management had gathered in the conference room for the staff meeting.

Unfortunately, their father was still in California. PJ had really hoped to impress him with her presentation.

Shawn looked down at the agenda and then over to PJ. “You’re up.”

“As you know, I’ve been looking at ways to further integrate Colman Enterprises branding into other sectors of the industry, with an emphasis on the hot-rod and custom-build people. Over the last three months I’ve done custom paint work for several shops in the area, including Twisted Steel.”

Her uncle frowned. “We don’t sell paint, Penelope, we sell tires.”

“I’m aware of that, which is why I’m working on this presentation. It doesn’t all have to be tires. We already offer other custom services as the need arises with some of our bigger clients. I have the skill, and I’m continuing to build on that. I just attended a class a few weeks ago and plan to keep on with that sort of education and training. Over time my connections will continue to grow as my reputation does.”

“It’s a waste of time.” Fee was grumpy and had been divorced five times. She wasn’t sure if he got divorced a lot because he was grumpy or if getting divorced a lot made him grumpy. Whatever the case, he thought women were stupid and helpless and that she and Julie should shut up, play nice, and let the men run Colman. He liked to point out his daughters as examples of this.

One of these days PJ was going to tell him he shouldn’t confuse his estrangement and half abandonment of his daughters with being well behaved. They avoided him because he was a terrible, toxic person.

“It’s not a waste of time, actually.”

“How much Colman money did you fritter away playing with paintbrushes?”

“If you let her finish a sentence she might be able to give us specifics on the financials of this, Fee.” Shawn said this to their uncle without looking at him. Her brother winked at her and also gave her a definite push.

Talk money.

“Right now as vice president, I have accounts. Some of them are pretty important, though most large accounts are with Jay and Dad, which makes sense. I most certainly earn my keep. In fact, in ten of the last eighteen months I’ve been in the top two sales slots. But if you split my clients between Shawn and Jay, I could handle the custom paint work on my own. We have bays here and the accounts with the paint suppliers I need. I don’t use brushes usually, but I already have the equipment.”

“And we pay you to play while we take a loss?”

She reminded herself not to rise to the bait her uncle tossed her way. Instead, she took a deep breath and continued as if he weren’t being a disrespectful asshole. “No. Actually, I believe I can make as much money, if not more, with custom jobs. I recently spent several months learning how to mix and create custom colors. Not a lot of people take the time and get certified, which means my work is not only truly custom, but at the upper end of the spectrum especially, I’m rare. Which means as time goes on, I’ll continue to make money for Colman. I’ll be doing something I love to do, something to serve car people, which is why we’re here, isn’t it? Bottom line? It’s profitable. You don’t need me to sell tires. You have plenty of people who can do that just fine.”

“We don’t sell custom paint. That’s not what we do.”

“We didn’t sell tires at one point either,” Julie said. “Shawn, Jay, me, and PJ, we’re the future of Colman. If we’re allowed to shape it as we go, to fit who we are as a family moving into the future, it’s going to remain vibrant. PJ is smart. She’s talented, and those grease monkey shops love her. They love her, they love Colman. I just can’t see this as a losing situation. Especially when she’ll be bringing a profit in.”