Melting Point by Terry Towers

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    Chapter 1
     
     
    Faith tossed the used stick aside, snatched up another, tightened it up into the welding gun then went back to work. She'd been slaving on the overhead weld for a couple of hours now, but she was almost finished. Finally.
    Currently she was positioned on her back, under a large cylinder, which was suspended in the air a mere two and a half feet above her. She found herself thankful she wasn't claustrophobic. She doubted someone with claustrophobia would last long as a welder. Since she was a female, a petite one at that, she was always the lucky one selected for the shit assignments.
    In truth, it made sense. She couldn't expect a two hundred pound man to squeeze into the tiny areas that some jobs required. Not when her compact body could fit, not comfortably, but fit nonetheless. She’d made peace with the fact that that was how it was going to be for as long as she was in this profession.
    Sparks continued to fly, litt ering her body, burning into her leather welding jacket.
    "Damn it!" Faith cursed, but refused to flinch and ruin the string of weld as a stray spark happened to worm its way under her helmet and onto the tiny patch of exposed skin the jacket collar failed to cover. It burned for just a moment or two before extinguishing itself.
    "That's going to leave a scar," she murmured as she continued on with her string, not missing a beat.
    "Done," she announced to no one in particular, while flipping up her helmet's visor to get a good look at her work. Setting down the welding gun she examined the weld. "Another great job, beautifully done, Veates," she praised herself.
    She had no doubt the inspector would clear her welds. There were no visual defects. She seriously doubted they would fail any other type of inspection either. She was damned good at what she did; the fact she loved the job was just an added bonus.
    Satisfied , she wriggled her way out from under the massive cylinder, pulling her equipment along with her.
    As she cleared the cylinder she welcomed the fresh spring air. Sitting up and rummaging through her toolbox, she snatched up a plastic bottle of water. Flipping the lid open, she drank deeply, until the bottle was empty. She tossed the empty bottle back into the toolbox and looked around. Many of the men were already finished with their tasks for the day, but were not permitted to leave until the end-of-day inspections. As a result, they would spend roughly the last half hour of their shift lounging around until five o'clock hit.
    Five o'clock. Quitting time.
    As she gathered up her equipment, she could feel a presence behind her. Turning around she looked up to see Brian Underwood standing nearby. While most of the men were fine with her working there – many even welcomed her with open arms – Brian was an entirely different issue altogether. It was a male-only company before she’d arrived, and he had liked it that way. He wasn't shy about making that known either.
    He was what people commonly referred to as a “man's man.” The majority of the men working with United Welding looked up to him. He was the bachelor of the company who always had some wild, raunchy sex story to share. She would have bet money most of his stories were works of fiction. The way he talked, a person would be led to believe that he had dozens, correction hundreds , of women lined up just begging to be banged by him.
    "It's about time you got finished – thought we'd be stuck here all weekend waiting for you to finish up," he commented with a smirk. He said it as a joke, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. The look told her that he felt she didn't belong there.
    Condescending dickwad , was Faith's mental response. What she said aloud was simply, "Taking the extra time to do a job right means it won't have to be