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She watched the five-minute-and-sixteen-second video three times before getting to work. In the end, she succeeded in removing the busted tire and securing the donut, but it took thirty-six minutes, and by the time she finished, sweat drenched her clothing.

“Ugh,” she complained as she pinched a chunk of fabric and peeled it away from her stomach. It slapped back against her skin with a wet sploosh when she let go. “Gross. Damn Florida heat.”

With a tired sigh, she tossed the tire iron, jack, and deflated tire in the trunk before getting behind the wheel. After googling the nearest tire shop, she set on her way.

“Hell yeah,” she said with a satisfied grin as she pulled into the parking lot. “The donut stayed in place.” Part of her had been convinced the thing would pop off as soon as she got on the road.

A loud rumble had her peering over her shoulder as she stepped out of the car. She watched as a noisy-as-hell motorcycle coasted into the lot and stopped in a spot near the side of the building. The man astride the bike was huge with muscular tattooed arms and a leather vest. His face couldn’t be seen behind a full-face helmet, but something about his size and stature reminded her of…

“Oh shit,” she breathed out.

The hulk pulled off his helmet, revealing he was, in fact, Jinx. The enormous biker she’d met a few days ago in Brooke’s office.

Harper swallowed as her throat went dry. The man was like no other she’d ever seen, and that wasn’t only because she had spent the last seven years surrounded by women. The universe didn’t make many men like him. It couldn’t possibly subsist if millions of Jinx’s were running around. Women everywhere would stop doing anything productive in favor of following them with their tongues hanging out.

He was that damn sexy with his shaggy blond hair that was messy enough to be roguish but not so much that he seemed sloppy. The muscles required no explanation—those babies spoke for themselves—but the mischief in his eyes had her stomach flipping. Like he knew he was trouble and loved it.

And if she wasn’t mistaken—which could be due to less than zero experience—he’d flirted with her the other day. Her heart had raced so hard as she walked away from him she worried she might collapse in the field. Thankfully, she’d made it, but what the hell did a man like him see in her?

She sure hadn’t flirted back, nor did she give off some kind of subconscious come-hither vibe. She knew less than nothing about sex and men. At eighteen, she’d slept with her boyfriend a handful of times, which was the entirety of her experience with men. It’d been so long since anyone had touched her or even glanced at her with desire that she didn’t know what to do with it. After so many years of going without touch, privacy, or romantic human contact, she’d let that side of herself go dormant. Within days, Jinx was awakening a primal need she’d forsaken. As much as it excited her, it terrified her.

According to Brooke, Jinx was the type of man who flirted with anyone and everyone. That information helped some to quell her anxiety. Writing it off as just something he did took the pressure off her. If she was going to be working on the MC’s property every day, she couldn’t have a man chasing her. No matter how her stomach flipped at the sight of him or her long-neglected nether regions sparked to life, that was a complication she couldn’t afford.

It was too much on top of trying to build a life from nothing. If the attraction became distracting, she’d buy a vibrator and deal with it herself. Maybe she should get one anyway now that she had the privacy and solitude to explore.

For now, the plan was to focus on herself.

And someday, she’d admit to and deal with the mountain of trust issues she had from being screwed over by the only man she’d ever been with. Unfortunately, denial would have to do for the foreseeable future.

Jinx climbed off his bike and rested his helmet on the seat. As he turned her way, her cheeks heated.

Crap. How long had she stood staring at the man like he was one of her favorite sundaes?

Too long.

Harper lifted a hand in an awkward greeting—something to salvage the moment—then turned to her trunk again. As she popped it, she could feel his substantial presence coming closer. Her pulse fluttered, and she froze.

Go inside. Go inside. Go inside.

“Need a hand?”

Dammit. He didn’t go inside.

“Ah… no thanks. I got it.” She reached into the trunk and hefted out the tire. The thing was more awkward than heavy, and she’d love to let the mammoth of a man carry it, but she didn’t need him to.