Statham Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Statham

  Isla

  Bodyguard

  STATHAM

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN, MECHANIC ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 32

  FLORA FERRARI

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Statham

  1. Isla

  2. Statham

  3. Isla

  4. Statham

  5. Isla

  6. Statham

  7. Isla

  8. Statham

  9. Isla

  10. Statham

  11. Isla

  12. Statham

  13. Isla

  Epilogue. Isla

  Epilogue. Statham

  Extended Epilogue. Statham

  Bodyguard

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2017 by Flora Ferrari.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  Book 1: Baby Lust

  Book 2: Veteran

  Book 3: Built

  Book 4: Bambino

  Book 5: Rescued

  Book 6: Leader

  Book 7: Professor

  Book 8: Burned

  Book 9: Worldly

  Book 10: Pistol

  Book 11: Policed

  Book 12: Driven

  Book 13: Lucky 13

  Book 14: Lumberjacked

  Book 15: Protector

  Book 16: Carpenter

  Book 17: Italian Stallion

  Book 18: Gardener

  Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin

  Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 21: Cocky CFO

  Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th

  Book 23: Mechanic

  Book 24: SEAL’s Secret

  Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch

  Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina

  Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy

  Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol

  Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess

  Book 32: Statham

  Book 33: Bodyguard

  Book 34: Greek God

  Book 35: Cunning Linguist

  Book 36: Mountain Man

  Book 37: SEAL’s Justice

  STATHAM

  Broke, unemployed, and alone is no way to start off the new year, but that’s exactly what happens after my company closes shop after the holidays.

  We’re in the middle of one of the worst winters on record, and like always I can’t find one of my gloves. When I go looking for it, I find something else entirely.

  Him.

  Statham’s Service Center needs help running their cash register, and I need help running away from him.

  He’s quiet, confident, and a man of few words. I should turn and walk away, but it feels like my boots are stuck in the snow when I freeze up at the sight of him. With his hazel eyes, nearly bald head, and all that masculinity and sex appeal that oozes off of him I can't help but stop and stare.

  But he’s too old for me. I’m not sure what he’d see in a young, confused girl like me…but I sure know what I want him to see in me. His tool.

  When I watch those strong arms of his flex as he turns a wrench unleashing a nut, I’m imagining another kind of nut we can unleash…together.

  But will this manly mechanic check my fluids with his dipstick, or will he leave me stranded by the side of the road, dry, fuming, and with a blown gasket?

  And when my dad comes by looking for a free oil change, he certainly isn’t expecting to see his daughter getting mounted, rotated, aligned, and adjusted.

  Will this sexy loner service me and send me on my way, or will he provide a lifetime service guarantee for my body, mind, and soul...forever?

  *Statham is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

  CHAPTER 1

  Isla

  “Can you come into my office for a second?”

  I take out my earphones and turn to see my boss standing next to me. I didn’t even hear him I was so engrossed in my work.

  “Sure thing,” I say.

  He begins walking toward his office, not waiting for me. This doesn’t feel very friendly. This feels very much superior and subordinate. He’s not usually like this and I don’t have a good feeling.

  “Close the door please,” he says after I enter. “And please have a seat.”

  I sit down and immediately clutch the seat. The cold plastic feels even colder in the depths of one of the worst winters on record. It seems like the office heater is never turned up enough and today is no exception. But something tells me the chair and the temperature outside aren’t the only things that are cold today.

  “I’m really sorry, but there’s no easy way to say this.”

  Ut oh.

  “Holiday sales didn’t come in anywhere close to where we had hoped or needed. We’re going to have to shut down the company.”

  I’m completely shocked. I didn’t know we were struggling that much and now I realize it’s soon to be me who’s struggling.

  “Okay,” I say trying to keep a straight face. “I understand.”

  “I’m really sorry. We’ve cut you a check for payment through the end of the week.”

  My boss slides a check across the top of his desk.

  I reach out for it. $298.56 after taxes. It suddenly hits me there are only one and a half days left in the week. Not exactly much of a severance after three years with the company.

  “I’m really sorry,” he says.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “It’s business. Nothing personal.”

  But it’s very personal. I’ve worked Saturdays and almost every holiday since I started. I gave up my entire social life in order to build something with the company. A company that is now tumbling to ashes and taking my dreams with it.

  “Axel will show you out,” he says. “Axel!” he yells.

  The door opens and I turn and see Axel, our six foot seven former professional football player turned security guard standing in the doorway.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Can I get my things?” I ask.

  “Your items are in a box at the front entrance,” he says. “You can collect them there.”

  In a box at the front entrance? I was at my desk less than two minutes ago.

  “I can’t go back to my desk?”

  “Unfortunately not. You need to exit the building. If you feel we’ve missed anything you can call us and we’ll do our best to locate it. Please remember that anything on your computer is company property. We’ll be sure to wipe it before we auction everything in the asset sale to pay off our creditors.”

  “Okay,” I say. I feel the first tear and I know it’s better to just get out now than to totally embarrass myself.

  “Axel, can you please?” my boss says. “And bring the next one after you finish up with Isla. We need to sta
y on schedule if we’re going to get this done today.”

  Oh my god! What a terrible way to go about things.

  I stand up and walk past Axel. He follows me to the elevators like I’m preparing to steal something. Are you kidding me?

  When we get to the lobby there’s a lady with a plastic smile holding a clipboard.

  “Hey Isla. So sorry! If you could just sign here we can release your things to you.”

  I sign the paper and take another step forward.

  “Here ya go,” a man says as he hands me a small cardboard box. This is all my stuff? No way! “Good luck,” he says and gives me a pursed lip expression.

  I push through the front doors and watch as Axel doesn’t take his eyes off me until the doors latch closed. They’ve turned the office into a prison today!

  It’s starting to snow again. I walk to the bus stop and look at the timetable. Oh my god! Nothing for two more hours?

  This is a business park so there’s really nowhere I can wait either.

  I walk over to the side of some building and sit down on a pallet. I look at the things in my box. At least they gave me my pictures of me and my boyfriend Doug and I on holiday. I need to talk to him now before I completely fall apart.

  I whip out my phone and hit the one so my phone can speed dial Doug. He’s definitely number one in my life and I need him now more than ever.

  The phone doesn’t ring but I hear his voice.

  “Oh yeah, I know you like my salami.”

  “Doug?” I say. He sells packaged meat, but this sounds like a pretty weird business call.

  “Give me that frankfurter, daddy,” a woman’s voice says.

  “You can’t handle my footlong tunneling in your subway.”

  “I can handle it and I want to taste your mustard.”

  “Doug, are you there?”

  “Here’s twelve inches of raw man meat for you baby.” I hear Doug grunting as the woman moans.

  “And this meat comes with a big fat bone, just for you,” he says.

  “Doug!”

  I listen as the girl screams bloody murder and Doug moans like a wolf at the moon.

  “Ketchup is going to squirt,” he says.

  I can not believe this. I stay on the line making sure I hear what I think I’m hearing. They finish and I can hear Doug kissing her with a thousand little kisses.

  “One second, baby. I have to check in with my boss,” he says.

  “Oh shit. My phone is on. I must have pocket called…Isla?”

  “We’re through Mister Man Meat asshole! Take that bratwurst and stick it up your ass loser!”

  I end the call and jump up from the pallet. I pull my coat from the box and fling it on the ground. I march over to the dumpster and throw the box and everything else that was in it inside. There’s a resounding thud as it hits the bottom.

  “What a dick!” I say.

  I march back over to where I was sitting and put on my jacket. I was running on pure emotion the last couple minutes and didn’t mind the cold. Now the snow is picking up and I can definitely feel it.

  I reach inside my pockets and pull out my gloves, or should I say glove.

  “Why am I always losing one of my damn gloves?” This is so frustrating.

  I put on the left glove and look for the right. I search the never-ending array of pockets and still can’t find it.

  “It’s got to be here,” I say out loud. “Great, I’m talking to myself now.”

  Is it under the snow somewhere? Where is it? Uhhh!

  I stop and look up only to see a golden retriever about twenty yards away holding my glove in his mouth.

  “Where did you come from?” I ask. “Come here, buddy,” I say.

  I bend over and clap. Nothing.

  I whistle. Nothing.

  I make a kissing sound. Nothing.

  I take one step towards her and she takes one step back.

  “Oh no. Don’t you dare run away with my glove,” I say.

  Each time I make a move toward her she makes an equal move back.

  I take off in the snow after her. It takes her a second to get turned around and I’m close! I dive for her only to see her bolt away.

  And now I can’t see much because my face is covered in snow. Yellow snow.

  I’m losing left and right today. I need a victory, no matter how small.

  It’s going to take the bus too long to get here so I’ll have to walk home, and I’m not about to walk home in this weather with only one glove.

  I follow her footprints around the corner and see her. She’s standing in the entrance to one of those big industrial buildings. They’ve got the door opened. I walk toward her and she takes off inside.

  Suddenly two huge Rottweilers come out barking like crazy. And they’re not on leashes!

  I freeze in my tracks. The Rottweilers freeze where the snow meets the cleared pavement.

  I look and see some sparks coming from inside. Someone is in there working.

  “Your dog has my glove!” I yell. “I need it back. I don’t have time for this shit today!”

  There are some metal things and what looks to be a table just inside the door. The sparks stop and I see a welding mask turn and look right at me.

  Great, now this is turning into a slasher film. I’m not even good enough to get killed by the guy in the hockey mask. No, no! I get the guy in the welding mask. Just great.

  The mask disappears.

  “I really need my glove!” I yell.

  The dogs are still looking at me like they haven’t been fed today and I’m on the lunch menu. Where is that stupid welder? I’m not about to turn and run or these two Cujos are going to have me torn in half in about five seconds flat. All I want is my glove and to be on my way. Why is this happening to me?

  Suddenly the welding mask appears in the doorway, but it’s a whole lot more than a welding mask. Oh my god!

  It may be the middle of winter but the man isn’t even wearing a shirt. How hot do those things get and is that safe?

  I’m literally frozen in my boots at the heat coming off this man. His body is emitting steam and my panties are emitting a different kind of moisture.

  He’s got the perfect V-shape. It’s not hard with shoulders that broad and that wide. Was this guy born like a human or was he made in that shop over there? He is a pure work of art, like he’s been crafted from steel.

  My eyes continue down his body stopping to take in his chest muscles. They look like a map of Russia. Wide, big, and wrapping around half of the world’s land mass.

  And those abs. Oh my, god! I quit counting at twelve. I get intoxicated on a six-pack so what’s that make his twelve? That makes me a complete alcoholic.

  And those hip bones of his have those two diagonal lines that lead right to his…yum.

  He’s wearing those chino style work pants like Dickies makes and they’re not exactly pulled up high, but there is absolutely no plumber’s crack in sight.

  His legs are strong and powerful. I can see through his work wear. And unlike that holiday picture of Doug in his mandals at the beach, how effeminate are man sandals by the way, this guy’s wearing brown leather work boots.

  He could work on me for sure because he has just broken my eyes in two. If I stare at him any longer I’m going to go blind.

  His right hand raises to lift that mask while his left hand raises holding…my glove!

  “Looking for this?” he asks.

  He takes off the welding mask with one hand and sets it down on the table.

  Very noticeably different in comparison to Doug. He’s not a twenty-five year old with a clear baby face. This is the face of a man chiseled by years of hard work and a low carb diet. I bet this guy lives on black coffee, bacon and eggs, and steak. And I could eat him up just as easily.

  He’s sporting a five o’clock shadow and it’s barely lunchtime. Testosterone overload! My estrogen production has just doubled.

  “Yes. It’s mine,” I say
. I start weaving and bobbing at the knees. “Thank you.”

  “Buster. Rocko. Heel!” he says.

  The two Rottweilers immediately sit and start smiling at me with their tongues wagging.

  He’s a man who controls his beasts. And I’d like to see this beast try and control me.

  But wait? Was that an English accent I detected? I always thought those guys were so buttoned up and proper? This guy is rugged and I would say rough around the edges, but his edges are definitely not rough. Each part of him is absolutely male perfection. Each individual muscle like it’s carved from stone.