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“Always been a daddy’s girl, my daughter,” Majorie said in a tight voice. “So, Jamie says you’re her boss?”

“I own the workshop, yes,” I said. “As we discussed last night.”

“Yes, of course!” she waved that imposition away with a flap of her hand. “I admit I was probably a bit abrupt. Jamie’s always had a flair for the dramatic. I should’ve realised that before I called you.”

“Dramatic?” I frowned slightly. “She was hurting. I hurt her. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

“Oh well, you’ll work through that.” Majorie’s tone was completely dismissive. “I can’t tell you how many times Arthur and I have quarrelled, but we always make up before bed.”

Did they? Or did he just admit defeat? I thought.

“You’ll learn to do the same once you’re married.”

She put a hand on my arm and then dragged me closer, the woman surprisingly strong for such a tiny lady.

“And who’s this then?”

Arthur didn’t let Jamie go, but I saw some tension in the arm hooked around her shoulders as he looked me up and down.

“This is Jamie’s boss and boyfriend, darling,” Majorie said in a placating voice. “Brock, this is Jamie’s father, Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” I said, thrusting out a hand. He gave it a grudging shake, firm, but not ridiculously so. His attention returned to Jamie though as he steered her over to the table.

“They look like they’ve got a good spread here, love. Bacon, eggs, sausage?—”

“I was thinking a couple of egg white omelettes for us girls,” Majorie said. “No cheese, of course.”

I frowned and then looked at Jamie as she sat down beside me. Omelette? I mouthed, never having seen her eat anything like that and she gagged silently, right until Majorie looked our way.

“Though you boys will want a big cooked breakfast.”

“I think we both do, don’t we, babe?” Jamie’s eyes narrowed at the pet name, but I just smiled. “Never known you to eat omelettes.”

“Well, as I keep telling my daughter, a woman needs to work hard to maintain her figure,” Majorie twittered.

“She does.” I let my eyes run down Jamie’s form, noting the semi-translucent linen shirt and looking past it to the shadows of her body. “On bacon and egg sandwiches and coffee so sweet I’m surprised the spoon doesn’t stand up on its own.”

“See, Marge,” Arthur said. “You can have an omelette if you like, but we’ll have a proper breakfast. So…” He waved a waiter over and then turned to me. “Tell me more about this business of yours.”

So I did. Once we put our orders in, Majorie’s mouth getting tighter and tighter at each item we added, I gave Arthur an honest overview of the garage’s performance, remembering the key points the accountant went through with me. He nodded along, those keen eyes of his making clear he understood everything I discussed and then shot me a measured look.

“So you’ve got prospects then. Good, good.”

“So do I.” Jamie shot him a dry look. “Seeing as I’ve been working since I was seventeen.”

“But you’re not married, don’t own your own place yet.” Did Arthur see how hard his dismissive remarks hit his daughter? “No security. What if something happened to you?”

“What if something happened to Brock?” Jamie replied sharply, earning her a reproving look from her mother. “What if something happened to you?”

“Your mother is looked after, don’t you worry,” Arthur said, then smiled as a waiter returned with our coffees. Jamie wrapped her hands about hers as if she needed warming up. My arm went around her, tucking her into my side, something that had her looking at me gratefully. “I just want the same security for you.”

“She has the same as anyone else,” I replied. “A solid job and an excellent reputation.”

“And what other boss would hire a woman mechanic?” Arthur scoffed.

“Plenty. I’ve had blokes approach me about Jamie to see if she was interested in working with them.”

“Really?” she said. “You never told me that.”