“Hi there.” She waved, smiling.

Asa returned her smile as he stood and indicated a chair. “Come in and sit.”

Some people came into the shop and held themselves still, trying not to get anything on their clothes or set anything on fire. PJ was comfortable, easily dropping into the chair, a folder on her lap.

“I apologize for taking so long to return your calls. It’s been crazy here and we’ve had some major deadlines to meet, so everything else fell by the wayside.” He held up a soda. “Thirsty?” When she nodded, he popped the cap and handed it her way.

“Thanks. And I understand that it gets busy sometimes.” PJ placed the soda on the table to her left and then slid the folder his way. “That’s my work.”

He looked from that face down to the photos, sifting through them. He held one up. “Tell me about this.”

Her smile raised his respect for her. She was proud of doing good work. An excellent sign in someone you’re considering doing business with.

“That’s the new Colman Enterprises logo for our racing team. I hand-paint them on all the cars.”

Clever work. She had a good eye. A real understanding of the overall placement of all the elements. She’d gone with a clean design, drawing the eye on what would likely be a car covered in a whole lot of busy graphics.

Which was how Asa had noticed the logo when he and Duke had been out at the track. “I was just telling Duke we needed something like this for our team. He and I saw one of the Colman cars at a drag race in California. Really nice work.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t downplay it like some people would. She was proud of her skill.

“But we send out our custom work already. We have people who handle our accounts.”

“I know you do. But I’m better. Okay, not better than Richie Carlyle. But no one is. Give me twenty years.”

“You have a gig with Colman, don’t you? The next generation, right? Why this?”

If she’d quit or had been fired, he’d toss her some work to help her until she got something else.

“I do have a job with Colman.” She paused, clearly trying to decide something. “My family’s business is great. But it needs to move into other sectors of our industry. Yes, we sell tires. And we’re good at it. But the world is changing, and we have to change with it. I think Colman can do more than sell tires and sponsor racing teams. Innovation is how we started. I like to think it’s how we’ll continue to be relevant into the next generation.”

“And custom paint does that? Not shock absorbers? Or air filters?”

“We tried shocks for a while. It didn’t work for us.” One of her brows rose. See, I know more than you assumed I did. “We have so much to offer a significant portion of our market we’ve previously taken for granted. Neglect loses you customers.”

She had the kind of confidence people have when they’re on solid ground. She knew what she was talking about. He liked that.

“What market portion do you mean?”

“All the hot rods, custom and restoration build operations. You buy our tires already. And that’s great, thanks for your business. But we can offer you more. So I’m starting with some smaller jobs and building contacts.”

Asa bet her ease at presenting herself came from being put to work as a kid. She sat there in one of his chairs, eyebrow pierced, ink on her back – a lotus, he thought, but he couldn’t get a full view – as well as in a few other places he’d glimpsed.

She wasn’t as buttoned-up and straitlaced as her brother. But she took herself seriously and he dug that. Not as a quality in a woman but as a quality in anyone he did business with.

“Like I said, your work is impressive. I’ll talk to Duke and get back to you.”

There was a pause. He normally would have filled it with an invitation to drinks or something, but he wasn’t ready for that. Being alone with her outside a work situation might send messages he didn’t intend to send.

She stood and he followed suit, his body so close he could feel her warmth. He made no attempt to step back.

Her smile was slightly teasing. “Thanks for your time. I hope to hear from you soon. You have my number.”

“I’ll walk you out.” He held the door for her, then escorted her through the shop and out the showroom. She bent to grab a duffel bag, and he smoothly snatched it first. “Is this yours?”

“Yes. I designed that logo too.”

He looked down at the bag, approving. “Did you get a degree in marketing or something?”

She laughed. “No. I dropped out of college, much to my family’s terrible disappointment.” She pointed at her car. “That’s me.”

He looked up and skidded to a halt. “That’s yours? Yours?”

A 1969 Camaro Z28 with deep purple metallic paint and white stripes sat a few feet away.

“It belonged to my grandfather. When I was little and he was still able to drive, he’d take me out in it. We’d go to Dick’s and have burgers and shakes. After his last stroke when he couldn’t drive anymore, they moved it to a warehouse where it sat under a tarp until he passed away. He left it to me.”

She unlocked the trunk and he dropped the duffel in. He noted the general level of care that’d been put into the car.

“This is Howie Colman’s Camaro.”

She grinned. “Yes. Though Jay had a fit when they read the will and Gramps left it to me. He tried to get me to auction it a time or two. He had kittens when I painted it purple. Hates it when I drive it too.”

“Your brother seems rather irritated by everything about you. What’s his problem anyway?”

“Thank you. I think I’m the one with the problem, judging by everyone else in my family.” Her laugh wasn’t bitter. “He loves the company.” She shrugged and then ran her palm over the roof. “I love cars. My grandfather loved cars. It’s what Colman could be again.”

He nodded. Respecting that a great deal.

He opened the door for her and she slid inside. “Don’t forget to talk to Duke and call me to offer me some jobs, Asa Barrons.”

She started the engine and it roared to life. He stepped back and she waved before driving off, leaving him in his parking lot trying to piece through what had been a most unexpected Saturday.

Full of tingles and feeling like she’d done a lot of great work for the day, PJ headed over to her sister’s place. Julie lived in a very tidy, elegant condo in Bellevue with a great view of the water. And a lot of distance to Colman central up in Edmonds.

Julie loved numbers. She fit just fine in their brother Shawn’s office handling money, and she and Shawn had a great rhythm. PJ had long ago stopped wishing she had that same sort of click with her siblings, or anyone in her family, really.

Her sister opened with a hug and handed over a cocktail as PJ entered. “Just finished this batch. Come on, I need to check on dinner.”

As usual, Julie’s hair was done perfectly. It framed her face just so, hung just right. A split end wouldn’t have dared to exist on Julie Colman’s head. It simply wasn’t done.

PJ took a sip of what turned out to be an excellent dirty martini. “Nice. Thanks.”

“I spent three hours down at the factory today. Jay said you cut out on it?”

“He said what? That pissant! He came to me yesterday and asked if I’d cover it. Which I was open to doing last night because I had the shoot today. Then he insulted me about a dozen times and I told him to fuck off.” PJ grabbed a pita chip from the bowl on the counter and pointed for emphasis. “I’m sending my legion after him.”

“I don’t know why you let him get under your skin. You only let him win when you do that.”

“Because he’s a smug asshole who wanted me to cover a meeting where real employees had to be talked to so he could play golf with all the Colmans who have a penis. How can I let that go?”

Her sister grimaced. “Yes, he’s all that. We should have shown up for that golf game. Just to see Jay’s and Fee’s faces.”