Chapter 2 Colter
COLTER
There is nothing in this world that comes close to the pure joy of the hum of your bike, the wind on your back, and the open road. Especially when your belly’s full of a good steak and your hands are dirty with mechanic grease.
“Isn’t that right, Daisy?”
My voice gets lost in the wind, but the body shifts behind me and a wet tongue slurps the side of my neck. I’m wearing a leather jacket and a biker’s helmet, but Daisy still manages to find the one bit of exposed skin to give me a lick. My neck scrunches up at the contact.
“Ooh that tickles.”
Daisy gives a bark and sits back in her seat.
I spent the morning working on one of my bikes and then had a late lunch with the guys at the bar. Now I’m riding home with my girl on the back. It looks like it’s going to rain, but we should make it back in good time. You get used to reading the weather when you live in the mountains.
I come around the corner, and there’s a big old Caddy blocking the road. Lucky I’m taking it Friday-afternoon-easy, and there isn’t another car coming the other way. I slow down to feast my eyes on the vintage vehicle.
It’s a beauty, that’s for sure. 1956 Series 62 Coupé de Ville. There’s rust on the body and it could do with a paint job, but the curves on her are a thing of beauty.
Then I see the driver.
My bike pulls to a stop, sending gravel kicking up behind me. Daisy slides forward, her full weight slamming into my back before she scrambles to right herself.
She whines her displeasure, but my attention is taken by the beauty leaning against the driver’s side of the Caddy.
She’s wearing a cute polka dot dress with a high waist and a red band tied under her impressive breasts.
The skirt billows out to fan around her knees, showing off her hourglass figure, and I don’t mean a stick figure either.
This woman is right out of the 1950s, her curves as pronounced as the Caddy she’s leaning against.
Gloss stains her lips and her dark hair is pulled back with a hair band, causing stray tendrils to whip around her oval-shaped face.
She’s the pin-up girl of my dreams. A Bettie Page in the flesh, but much prettier.
The woman looks startled when I stop the bike and reverse it to the side of the road so it’s tucked in front of her car.
Her eyes are wide and anxious as she takes me in.
I don’t blame her. I’m wearing my Wild Riders MC leather jacket with the emblem emblazoned on the back.
Even though there’s nothing criminal about our motorcycle club—we’re just a bunch of military veterans who love to ride—a man in a biker’s patch on a big-ass motorbike could seem intimidating to a lady on her own.
I give her my best smile to put her at ease.
“You got car trouble?”
Her gaze rakes over me, and I hope I stack up. Her suspicious look softens when she takes in Daisy. My oversized Mastiff gives us a mournful look and drops her head to her front paws.
The woman smiles, her expression softening, confirming that my dog is better with women than I am.
“There was smoke coming out of the hood, and I lost power. I don’t know what it is.”
It’s a totally impractical car for these mountain roads is what it is. Everyone who lives here either drives a pickup or a motorbike. But I’m not going to tell her that.
“It’s your lucky day.”
She squints at me, suspicious again. “Why is that?”
She’s chewing a piece of gum, and I have to shake myself to make sure I haven’t time traveled back to the fifties.
“I’m a mechanic.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.”
She smiles with relief, and I wonder how long she’s been here and consider how lucky I am that some other fucker didn’t come along and find her first.
“Pop the hood and I’ll take a look for you.”
I’m a bike mechanic, but she doesn’t need to know that. I know my way around car engines, and as it happens, 1950s engines too.
“I’m Colter.”
I hold out a hand, and even though there are grease stains on my fingers, she doesn’t hesitate.
“I’m Danni.”
Her fingernails have shiny red polish on them, and I want to keep that little hand in mine and find out all about Danni.
Warmth courses through my body as I clasp her hand in mine, not releasing the handshake.
Shit, it’s been too long since I’ve been with a woman. I drop her hand quickly and turn to the car. And I’m not about to get involved with one now.
She opens the hood, and I move around to the front of the car. Danni hovers nearby, chewing her gum nervously.
The engine is original, and someone hasn’t maintained it well, at least not in the last few years. The whole thing could do with a fine tune, but her immediate problem is the intake valves. I don’t tell her that straight away. I’m enjoying being near her too much.
“Where you from, Danni?”
“Charlotte.”
I raise an eyebrow. She’s a city girl. No wonder she’s ill-equipped for the mountains. “You visiting someone?”
“I’m here for a vacation.”
I bet there’s a guy. Some lucky asshole who she’s meeting.
“A retreat really. Just me.”
Relief floods me, but she looks alarmed at what she’s just said, admitting to a stranger that she’s on her own.
“Don’t worry, I’m harmless. Ask Daisy.” Daisy gives a bark at her name and paws the seat, trying to get down. “You wait a little longer, honey. I don’t want you loose on the roads.”
Danni goes over to pat Daisy while I check over her car.
My big old attention craving Mastiff slobbers on Danni’s hand and tries to lick her face. Danni laughs at Daisy’s antics.
The sound of her laugh and the fact that it’s because of my dog warms me up inside. Anyone who’s kind to my dog is a good person.
I slam the hood down and wipe my hands on a rag I keep in my back pocket. Danni looks up expectantly.
“Your valves are worn out.”
She winces. “That sounds bad.”
“It’s an easy fix. I can get you towed back to the shop.”
She tugs on a strand of loose hair. I feel for this woman, breaking down in a strange place. “Thank you. How long till someone can come out?”
It’s Friday afternoon, and I left the guys drinking at the Wild Taste Bar and Restaurant. On the off chance one of them is still sober enough to drive, and by the time I get home and make the call, it’ll be longer than I want to leave a woman stranded on the side of a road, especially a pretty one.
“About a couple of hours.”
Her face falls, and at that moment a gray cloud covers the sun.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll wait in my car.”
Her hand goes to the handle, and she pulls the door open. I can’t leave her on the side of the road. Not with rain coming.
“Where are you staying. I’ll drop you there?”
She looks at the bike and at Daisy, who’s escaped her special seat and is now spread across the bike drooling on the leather.
“On that?”
Daisy lifts her head and gives me an unhappy whine, as if she knows what I’m thinking. But she’ll have to suck it up, because I’ve finally met a woman I want on the back of my bike.
“There’s always room for one more.”