With a grunt, he lifted the tire from the counter. Of course, he made the damn thing look as light as a box of tissues. “So, you’d rather us patch it?”
Well, no, she’d rather get a new tire. But a random hundred or so dollars wasn’t in the budget. “Yes. If it’s possible.”
“Tell you what.” He swung the tire up to his shoulder. “Can’t have you missing days at your new job because your tire’s shitty. I’ll throw in a new one for the price of a patch. Whatdya say?”
She blinked. “Why would you do that?” What was the catch? Was he about to ask for a favor, sexual or otherwise? Would he want to collect sometime down the line? She was bound to run into him occasionally, working on the MC’s property. Would he hold this over her head until he needed something from her?
“Consider it congrats on the job. Or a welcome to the family.” He shrugged. “Take your pick.”
Why would he… “I don’t understand. Is there something you want from me?”
“For fuck’s sake. You always this suspicious? You’re like a damn cactus. Just say ‘Thank you, Jinx’ and take the damn tire. Promise I won’t be asking for your firstborn in return. Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m not an asshole.”
That remained to be seen. In Harper’s experience, most people had a healthy dose of asshole in them. Then again, she hadn’t exactly spent the last few years with society’s poster children for perfection.
“Uh, okay. Then, thank you, I guess.”
Chuckling, he slung the tire on the top of a pile. “So, when’s your first day?”
“I start Monday. But I was supposed to stop by to complete some paperwork this afternoon.”
He returned to the computer and was typing when a second man emerged from what she assumed was the garage area. “Hey, Jinx, didn’t realize you’d gotten in.”
“Just taking care of this lovely customer. Harper, this is Ty, the owner.”
She lifted a hand in greeting. The man was older than Jinx by maybe twenty years or so, probably in his mid-forties. If she had to guess, she’d say Jinx was around the same as her—mid-twenties.
“Hey, hon,” Ty said with a welcoming smile. “Jinx’ll take good care of you.” Then with a wave, he disappeared through the door again.
“I’ll get a guy on this immediately so you can get out to see Brooke. You good to wait?”
“Yeah, sure.” She had no way to get anywhere else.
“All right. Have a seat, grab some coffee, imitate a cactus, and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”
She tilted her head. “A cactus?”
“Yeah, all prickly and shit.” He winked and strode through the door Ty had gone through.
He nailed her personality on the first try. Despite her distrust of this situation and the giant, sexy man, Harper couldn’t stop a burst of laughter.
She froze in the center of the tire shop.
Damn, that laugh felt good. It was also the first genuine one since she’d been released from prison.
And it happened because a sexy biker teased her.
But as she sat to wait for her car, she found herself smiling and wondering if Jinx would be the one to ring her up at the end.
“WE’VE GOT A problem,” Curly said as he sat at the head of the gorgeous hand-carved table his sister gifted the club at Christmas. “Actually, two problems.”
Well, shit, so much for the good day he’d been having. He’d woken at six, hit the gym, then clocked in for work, where he’d gotten to see the thorny yet intriguing Miss Harper. For some reason, her neon flashing fuck- off sign only drew him more to her. Didn’t hurt that she was hot as fuck.
He’d been right about her being fit as hell. Those arm muscles she’d been rocking in her tank top had him struggling to keep his dick in line. Never before had he found himself so attracted to a woman. It wasn’t only her looks that got to him, but her standoffish personality also intrigued him. Discovering if he could knock down her walls and land in her bed would be a fun challenge.
One he didn’t plan to fail at.
“What’s up, Prez?” Scott asked with a frown. As the club’s enforcer, he tended to be the first to sniff out signs of trouble.
The prez’s curly hair had grown past shoulder length, and he pulled it up into a stellar man bun as he spoke. “First problem is internal and hopefully fixable.”
“Lock,” Pulse said in his customary softer voice.
Curly nodded. “Lock. He’s fucking spiraling. He missed church the last few times, he’s apparently flaking on clients, and he looks worn-out as fuck.”
A few months ago, Lock’s sister had died of an overdose while eight months pregnant. Being her only family, he’d retained custody of the infant, but what the fuck did Lock or any of them, know about raising a kid? Add the grief the man suffered from losing his sister, and it was no wonder the guy was a mess.