Author's Notes…

I wanted to try my hand at a light-hearted AU fic. I hope everyone is intrigued and wants to continue!

I've done my best so far as researching, but if anyone sees anything I wrote wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me! I like to get things right!

Falling for the Enemy

Chapter One

That Woman

Rey had never seen such wear and tear on a vehicle before.

She'd been into cars for as long as she could remember. Her adoptive father had been into classic ones and had babied a 1964 Aston Martin DB5. He'd always loved Bond, he said. However, despite his enthusiasm, he'd had "great plans" for her. She was going to attend either law or medical school. She was going to one day have her own firm or be the chief of surgery at a hospital.

Shame she'd only ever really been good for one thing: repairing cars.

She could still recall her father's expression when she politely informed him that she was going to go to college, but not for what he wanted. Homicidal couldn't even begin to describe it. But all the money on her schools and her tutors! Oh, no! How dare that go to waste?

Rey could see why he was upset, she honestly could. But she'd been disappointing people since she was an abandoned toddler. She had a plan set to pay her father back that money, and school was on hold. She had to be true to herself. If that meant working with a personal pit team for Ben Solo… well. She was happy.

Or mostly happy.

It was her third day on the job—her third day!—and she was ready to chuck a lug wrench at her boss' head. Not only was he completely insufferable, what with the way he looked down his nose at everyone, he had absolutely no idea of how to care for any of these cars. Porsche wouldn't continue to let him keep his own team if said team couldn't provide the proper maintenance.

Rey got to her feet, using a grimy rag to get the grease off her fingers. She was the only girl in the shop, and at nineteen-years-old, they considered her a baby. So far, it had been a bit rough. They wouldn't respect her, of course, so she was having to work her arse off more than she normally would.

She wanted to be here, with this team, going from country to country to compete in circuits. She was doing it with her own money, not anything borrowed from her father. There was a sense of freedom to be able to live that way, supporting herself, going where she wanted, doing what she wanted. Although she did sense she'd only gotten this position because her father had thrown his weight around.


Prince Charming himself came through the door, his face impassive, almost bored. His hands were tucked loosely in his pockets, and he hadn't shaved, so there was a shadow of a beard on his face. The rest of him was the same as usual: fluffed hair, form-fitting button-down shirt, skinny tie, trousers, and nice shoes. He hadn't so much as looked at Rey since she'd started, which she was taking offense to, considering she'd be difficult to miss, the only crew member with a vagina and whatnot.

Having been inspecting this car for the past few hours, she was hot, she was hungry, and she was hangry. In short: she had picked up her lug wrench and was jiggling it in a somewhat threatening manner. For a few moments, she just stood there, wavering, mouth opening and closing.

All right, she was here, she had something to say, and she was going to say it.

"Ben Solo, if you wear out these tires so quickly one more time, I swear I will make everyone in the pit ignore you for five minutes the next time they blow out!"

Most of the sounds of the shop ceased for a heartbeat. Everyone was looking around to see who had yelled at their employer, and it was the new girl Rey. Their eyes went wide.

Like no one had ever told this man in his life what to do.

Fine. She'd be the first.

"Ben Solo—" she began.

"Who are you again?" Solo asked, his eyes narrowing. The shop took an audible breath. Rey resented that. She wasn't afraid of this man.

"Rey," she said. "Kenobi."

His expression grew withering.

Rey wet her lips. "Rey, I mean. Kenobi—Rey—uh—" By all that was holy, why hadn't he said anything? "What, are you going to just stand there all day and stare at me?" Uh-oh. Now she was doubly belligerent.

She forced herself to stand tall, the way her father had always told her to.

"Everyone get back to work!" Solo barked. They jumped to obey, and he crossed the shop to stand before Rey. He was tall, really tall. And, all right, so it was a little intimidating. Not to mention the bulk of muscle he was carrying around. Christ, when had she started to check out her boss?

"Threatening me in my own shop doesn't seem like the smartest of ideas," Solo said, softly enough that she had to strain to hear. Shops weren't exactly quiet and cozy. "Where do you get off?"

Rey took a breath and set her jaw. She met his brown eyes with her own hazel ones. "It's not that I get off, sir, it's that I'm concerned for the cars. They can't defend themselves, you see."

"You get paid to fix them. Handsomely, I might add," Solo growled.

"Above average, if we're being honest," Rey snapped. She didn't know what it was, she didn't know how he got under her skin so quickly. She was an inherently grumpy person, but he made her want to yank her hair out. Or deck him. Or both.

"Maybe too honest," Solo returned. "And without grounds. My cars are fine."

"If you don't quit wearing on your tires that way, a number of things are going to happen. The most obvious: they'll blow out. The second: the number of pit stops you'll need to take to replace those tires are going to cost you very valuable seconds. And, since the rest of the crew is afraid to tell you, lately you're riding too hard on your clutches, which is a rookie mistake." Rey pressed her lips together.

Solo scoffed. He stepped in until she was leaning against the modified Porsche 911 Turbo, one hand on the roof of the car, the other on the window next to her elbow. He was invading her personal space, and it was highly tempting to put her greasy hands on his beautiful white shirt.

"This is sexual harassment," Rey informed him. She was pretty sure, anyway.

"You're in my shop. I pay you to do one thing: fix my cars. If you don't like it, please feel free to leave," Solo said. "Many have before you, and you won't be the last. Anything else you'd like to add?"

"Yes," Rey replied.

Solo's brows contracted—furrowed. He genuinely had thought that would be the end of it, it seemed.

"You're a jackass," Rey said.

Solo's face darkened. He took a step back, his mouth opening in disbelief. He cast an inquiring glance around to confirm that it had happened, but no one was meeting his gaze. A red flush came to rest high on his cheekbones. He snapped his jaw shut and did an about-face, storming from the shop.

Rey couldn't quite hide her smirk as she returned to her inspection.

The man might be the Crown Prince of Alderaan, but that didn't mean anyone had to put up with his crap.

Ben couldn't believe the nerve of that woman!

How dare she, employed by his generosity, get off on calling him the jackass after she verbally assaulted him in his own shop? To stand there so belligerently, thinking she had done nothing wrong! It was bullshit!

He had half a mind to go back in there and fire her. He knew precisely who she was, and her having to be gone so soon after starting would be a damned shame.

To stand there! Like that!

He kicked some pebbles across the pavement. He was standing outside his shop, about to leave. His own employee had driven him from the premises, and he wasn't going to do a single thing about it.

And he had no idea why.