Page 3 of Factory Reset

“Hi, Mr. Jeffers. I’m Cassandra Copperfield. I understand we’ll be working together.”

One giant hand engulfed mine, and I stifled a gasp at the jolt of electricity that traveled between our palms. The man hadn’t said a word yet but the attraction I felt for him was so strong I was ready to throw myself down on this conference table and beg him to have his way with me.

Clearly, I needed to start dating more. As my mother liked to remind me on a weekly basis, at thirty-five I wasn’t getting any younger.

George pulled his hand away and I immediately mourned the loss of connection. He turned to David with a frown.

“This is the efficiency expert?” he asked gruffly. “You never said it was a lady.”

Well, nothing like a hit of sexism to cool my attraction to the giant man. When I was younger, I would have responded with a recitation of my qualifications, but at this point in my career, I didn’t feel the need to explain myself to anyone.

“Yes Mr. Jeffers, I am the efficiency expert. We have a lot of work to do. Shall we get started with a tour of the facilities?”

His eyes traveled from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, taking in my light blue blouse, plain black pants, and flat black boots. It wasn’t exactly flattering, but when I was tromping around a factory I needed to dress for safety and comfort, not fashion. I resisted the urge to smooth down my hair.

“Are those steel-toed boots?” George spoke to me directly for the first time, his tone doubtful as he looked at my feet.

“Are those?” I asked, pointing at his ginormous feet.

“Of course.”

“Well now that we’ve established that we both know how to find footwear that meets safety regulations, how about you give me a tour?”

David coughed behind me, clearly covering up a laugh.

“Fine. Follow me.”

My eyes traveled to a totally bitable muscled ass that flexed with every step.

“Gladly.”

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I had a job to do here. I couldn’t let my attraction to Mr. Grumpy Face get in the way. There was too much riding on me finding a solution to this factory’s problems.

George

I was a simple guy. Grumpy looking but mostly easy-going personality wise. Anyone who knew me would say that. I liked the simple things in life. Football. Bowling. Fishing. A nice cold beer on a hot day.

I’d thought I might go to college when I was younger, especially after a teacher finally figured out that I was dyslexic when I was a sophomore in high school and taught me how to manage my learning disability. But my dreams for college were wrapped up in my dreams of playing football professionally. I’d been blessed with the physique of a linebacker, and I had a natural athleticism that served me well in the game.

But then I hurt my shoulder during my senior year of high school, and I put my dreams of playing in the NFL on the shelf. Recalibrated and settled on another dream: to live a simple, uncomplicated life in this same small town in Texas where I’d been born and raised.

I got a job at the factory. Bought a house. Joined a bowling league. Adopted a basset hound. Over the years, I’d created a life that was perfect for me. Simple and drama free. I really hated drama.

I liked to work hard, and I firmly believed that work was best left at work, not something to bring home. Whatever happened at the factory, I pretty much took it in stride. I never got ruffled. Until today. Because when I’d held Cassandra’s tiny little hand in mine and stared into those beautiful blue eyes, I’d known that my life was about to get complicated real fast.

All the women in my family loved to watch those sappy romantic comedies where a man and a woman knew they were “the one”, whatever the hell that meant, the minute they set eyes on each other. My cousin Allen and I always gave them hell about those damn movies, but I guess we were wrong.

Because the instant I met Cassandra I’d fallen in love for the first time in my life. And damned if that didn’t irritate the hell out of me.

“This way,” I called over my shoulder to her, leaving her to follow me. Or not. But of course she did. I knew I should at least make an effort at small talk, but I was too flustered for that right now. I needed some time to regroup.

I led her into the carburetor production area, and she pulled out one of those iPad things and some kind of a pen.

“This is...”

She held up a hand. “Let me just observe for a few minutes please, then I’ll ask you to walk me through the process.”

Shrugging, I leaned my ass against the wall and settled in to wait. I studied Cassandra while she worked. She was a curvy little thing, a good seven or eight inches shorter than my six foot four height. She had dark blonde hair that was pulled back into a thick braid, but a few curls had escaped confinement to frame her face. She didn’t seem to be wearing any make-up, but with her smooth white skin and bright blue eyes, she didn’t need it either.