Authors: Robyn Neeley
That got a sarcastic laugh. “He did, huh?” She headed down the hall toward the front doors. “Coop, what kind of experience do you have? Have you ever worked in a factory?”
Shit.
He hadn’t thought about what might be on Coop Jackson’s résumé. “I’ve been doing a few things.” He paused, trying to think what those things were. “Mostly sales. Um … vacuums,” he said the first thing that popped into his mind.
Her eyebrow shot up. “You were a vacuum cleaner salesman? Do those positions even exist anymore?”
Damned if he knew. “Yes, ma’am.” He really should have spent some time last night thinking up Coop’s backstory. Now, he’d have to Google what being a vacuum cleaner salesman entailed.
“Well, line work is a little different than sales, but you’re still trying to reach a daily goal.”
“I like goals.”
They headed out of the corporate building to the factory. Grayson took a deep breath. So far, so good. Would any of the plant employees recognize him? Probably not.
Becca held the factory door open. “The employee break room is straight to the right. We’ll go in there first and assign your locker.”
Grayson took the short steps to the break room. It had been years since he’d worked here those summers during high school. It was quite dark with two worn brown couches adjacent to each other. The left side was lined with white lockers, and there was a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, microwave, and coffee machine on the opposite wall.
“Where’s the flat screen?” he asked.
“Flat screen?” she repeated.
“TV.”
“We don’t have one.”
“Hmmm.”
“Is that weird?”
“No. It’s probably a good thing. Work, work, work.” He couldn’t help but compare this bland space with its chipped walls to the spacious cafeteria they had in the corporate office. Factory employees were welcome to have breakfast and lunch in the cafeteria, but he couldn’t recall the last time he saw anyone from the factory in there.
“Well, it looks like no one goes hungry.” He pointed to the assortment of muffins and donuts on the countertop.
Becca smiled. “We have a lot of fun baking for each other. Let’s just say there’s always something to satisfy any craving you have.”
He gulped at the thought of satisfying the craving he was having lately for the woman standing in front of him. Needing to get that desire out of his mind, he walked over to the kitchenette and picked up a blueberry muffin, bringing it to his mouth.
“Stop.” She snatched it out of his hands. “Don’t eat that.”
“Why?”
She lowered her voice. “Miguel in shipping brings them every Monday. His mom makes them for him, but the woman is ninety years old and nearly blind. I guarantee there are things in that muffin you wouldn’t want to ingest.”
“Thanks for the warning.” He set the muffin down.
“We usually toss them after he leaves to deliver the guac. He’s such a sweet guy. We don’t want to hurt his feelings.” She handed him a small silver key and a white apron. “So this is the key to your locker.” She pointed to the row of white lockers. “Yours is number twenty-four. If you’d like to change, the men’s room is outside and to the left.”
“I didn’t bring anything to change into. Is this shirt not okay?”
“You’ll need to lose the hat. Your clothes are fine except for those.” She pointed down to his boots.
Oh, hell no. He wasn’t taking them off. Not that he didn’t want to ditch them, but it’d taken him forever this morning to squeeze into them—they were staying on. “I don’t have another pair.”
“Hmmm … It’s okay for today, but you’ll want to wear work shoes with rubber soles. Like mine.” She took off her shoe and flipped it over. “It can get slippery around the floor. We work fast here, Coop, and those boots are definitely going to slow you down.”
“No problem. I’ll nix them.” Little did she know how happy that made him. She was right. He remembered wearing sneakers with rubber soles here in high school, although he’d been glad enough to ditch those Converse gym shoes for real leather loafers when he’d moved over to corporate.
“Good.” She put on a white smock and pulled her hair into a plastic cap. He didn’t think it was possible, but Becca made even her unsexy uniform hot.
“Okay, follow me.”
“I’m all yours.”
She looked behind him, her face quizzical.
“I mean, lead the way.” He probably shouldn’t flirt with his boss on the first day.
They stepped into the production floor, and Tangie came strolling over to them.
“Hey, boss. You’re back.”
Becca ducked into her office and came out with a clipboard. “Yes, and this is Coop Jackson. Coop, Tangie Walker.”
“Nice to meet you, Tangie.”
“Likewise.”
“Coop’s first day is today.” She lowered her voice and said something to Tangie that he didn’t quite catch but thought he heard the words “Chuck’s replacement.”
The pretty blonde smiled coyly. “Welcome to Guac Olé, Coop. I’ll see you around.” She winked and brushed by him, close enough that her apron touched his hand.
“See you.” He might have to watch out for that one.
Becca took a few minutes to show Grayson the various areas of the plant. He had to admit, while he knew the inner workings of the factory, there was something cool, almost exhilarating, in seeing it all come to life.
He pointed to the barrels filled with dark, ripe avocados. “Is that where the magic begins?”
She laughed. “Something like that. We hand-peel all of our avocados. It’s one of my favorite parts of the job.”
“Why’s that?”
She reached in and grabbed an avocado, squeezing it gently. “It’s the heart of this place. I was reminded of that this morning.”
Really. By whom?
Was there another man inspiring her? Maybe one of the guys on the floor?
Becca placed the avocado back. “I usually like to start my new employees at the peeling station, but it does tend to get slippery, so we’re going to do things a bit backward.” She stopped in front of a long machine belt and greeted an old man who, judging by the deep creases in his face, should be retiring any day now.
“Franco, this is Coop Jackson. Coop, this is Franco Martinez. He’ll show you the ropes.”
“Good deal. Nice to meet you, Franco.”
Franco extended his hand. “
Hola
. Nice to meet you.”
“It’s Coop’s first day, and I thought we’d start him out with you on the line.” Becca tapped on her clipboard. “Ready for a banner day, Franco?”
“
Si, señorita.
” He patted Grayson on the back. “Don’t worry, Coop, we’ll go easy on you.”
Becca looked him squarely in the eye. “Okay, you are in good hands with Franco. Lunch is at noon. I’ll check in on you this afternoon.”
And just like that, Becca crossed the floor, leaving him standing there in boots that were pinching his toes and a smock that looked stupid. He hadn’t considered that he might not actually spend a lot of time with her in this new role.
Well, maybe he’d see her at lunch. He pulled the top of his apron with his thumbs. If Grandpa here could work the line, Grayson shouldn’t have a problem. “So, Franco. How long have you been working at Guac Olé?”
“Forty years in February.”
“Wow, that long?” He felt a twinge of guilt that he’d never met this man who would be celebrating such a milestone anniversary with the company next year.
“
Si
. I was a young chap when I started. It’s hard work, but it’s an honest paycheck and the people here are nice. Becca’s a great boss.”
“Glad to hear it. So, can I ask you a question? You must be retirement age, why not retire?”
“And leave all this?” he kidded and took off his glasses for a second. “My wife is having some health problems. She had a stroke last year and her plan under my insurance only covers half the bills. I need to keep working as long as I can to make up the difference.”
“How much are you in debt?”
“A little over fifty grand. I’ll probably die before it’s paid off, but I have to try.”
Grayson just stared at the man. He’d been the one who’d recommended to his dad five years ago that they pull the plug on fully covering health insurance for employee spouses. The research at the time had shown that big companies were following this trend, so they’d given their employees the option to switch to a lower cost plan for spouses. “I’m sorry we don’t do more.” He paused, correcting himself, “I mean, the company doesn’t do more.”
“It’s okay. We do what we can.” Franco pointed in the direction of Becca’s office. “I’m grateful she keeps me around. There are a lot of guys half my age she could hire for this jo—” A loud machine drowned him out and the belts started moving. “Okay, son. Here’s what we’re going to do. In two minutes, the tubs are going to come down that conveyer belt. We lid them and store them in these bins. The guys who do deliveries will start picking them up. Easy.”
Thirty minutes later, Grayson stepped back and wiped the sweat off his brow.
Easy, my ass.
He didn’t sweat this much during his normal runs. The pace was killing him. Just when he thought he’d caught up, the tubs kept coming and coming.
A sympathetic Franco took him off the line for a while, having him help the guys who loaded the trucks. It was heavy lifting, but at least he could keep up. He spent most of the afternoon there, but by 4 p.m. it was time to go back to his station and close containers for the evening shipment.
He glanced down at his cowboy boots. His feet were freakin’ killing him. He’d sent Meg a quick text asking where he could pick up some work shoes, and she told him she’d drop some off at his house. They’d be waiting on his porch step when he got home.
God, he loved that woman. Well, not love. He glanced over at Becca’s office and caught a glimpse of her talking on the phone. Maybe he could go in and say a quick hello.
He passed by two machine operators and nodded. The young men looked like the one he’d recently fired. Though they couldn’t possibly recognize him, he was pretty sure they’d sped up the conveyor belts on purpose, but he wasn’t about to confront them. He could take a little “new guy” hazing.
Becca waved him in and wrapped up her conversation, demanding that the new avocado shipment arrive first thing in the morning. Her tone was forceful yet professional as she told the person on the other line that receiving them any later than 9 a.m. was not an option.
Damn. She was good. And he had to admit, listening to her exercising her authority was kind of a turn-on.
She finished her call and motioned for him to take a seat. “How’s it going out there, Coop?”
“Good. I think I’m getting the hang of it. Pretty flowers.” Nice that she had set them right on her desk. He usually ordered roses because that was what most women preferred, but Becca seemed like a gardenia kind of gal. “Are they from your boyfriend?”
The face she made told him he’d probably crossed the line—that or the thought of him actually being her boyfriend repulsed her.
“No, they most certainly are not.” She sighed and touched one of the petals. “Just someone who thinks he can charm me with flowers.”
And was it working?
She yanked out a petal and tore it to shreds.
I guess not.
He’d probably get fired for this next move, but that vase had cost him over a hundred dollars. Sure, it didn’t put a dent in his bank account, but still. He stood and picked up the vase, setting it on a small worktable near the window.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was clear with unmistakable annoyance.
“Giving them a second chance. Trust me, you’ll enjoy them tomorrow.”
That got a chuckle, and even a half smile. “Maybe I will.”
The sound of the conveyer belts signaled his break was over. “I guess that’s my cue.” He headed for the door but stopped, a brazen idea popping into his head. “Becca?”
“Yes, Coop.”
“Would you have lunch with me tomorrow?”
She looked up from her paperwork and blinked. “Sure. We usually go in shifts so as not to overcrowd the break room.”
“The break room … right. Lunch in the break room, it is. It’s a date.”
It’s a date
. Was he an idiot? The last thing he needed was her to think he was sexually harassing his boss. He’d already basically asked if she had a boyfriend. “Um … not a date. Just lunch. I’ve got a ton of questions to ask you about plant operations to get fully up to speed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He rushed out before he dug his grave any further.
Grayson returned to his place on the production line, his back to Becca’s office. How was it that even in a disguise, this woman could turn him into a fumbling teenage boy trying to talk to a crush for the first time? He tabled that question, as he needed to concentrate at covering all the dip tubs coming down the conveyer belt.
And just like earlier, they kept coming … and coming … and coming. Sure, he loved this product, but seriously, how much could they make in one freakin’ day?
Twenty minutes in, Franco asked if he’d be okay on his own while he took a bathroom break.
“I’ve got this.” Grayson slapped on a lid and then another, trying to keep up. The last time he lidded dip he’d been a lanky sophomore with bad acne. He hated that job and convinced his dad to let him work in the marketing and finance departments instead his junior and senior year.
Still, lidding dip was just like riding a bicycle. He fell into an easy rhythm at first, but the tubs seemed to be flying at him. He attempted to adjust his stance, but his boot caught against the machine.
He yanked his foot free, but that loss of seconds led to the tubs piling up, several toppling over the conveyer belt and onto the floor.
Oh fuck.
Grayson reacted and lunged his body onto the machine. Spreading his arms out, he tried unsuccessfully to stop from turning the cement factory floor into one giant appetizer.
Franco came rushing over, yelling at the top of his lungs, “We’ve got a dip derailment! Shut off the machine!”
The conveyer belts stopped, and Becca flew around the corner. “Why are you yelling?” She sidestepped the area that was now Guacamole Ground Zero. “What the hell happened here?”
“It looks like the boys were messing with the new guy,” Franco said in a low voice.