Wirth (Dirty Aces MC Book 5) by Lane Hart (carter reed TXT) 📕

Then, thanks to my headlight, I spot movement along the passenger side – the top of a golden head before it disappears out of sight.

Curious, I ride off the shoulder and circle around in the grass. My headlight then lands on a blonde woman in a black dress kneeling beside the back tire. She turns her pretty young face to squint at me for only a second before she goes back to work, tugging roughly on the lug wrench.

I’m sure there are plenty who can do the same out in the world; but in all my life, I’ve never actually witnessed a woman on her knees with a tool in her hand trying to change her own tire. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.

Do they make female mechanic porn? If so, then I’ve been missing out, because nothing is as sexy as the sight before me even if she’s totally fucking clueless.

I put the kickstand down on my bike and turn off the engine. Before I can even get my helmet off, she mutters without turning around, “I’ve got it! I don’t need any help!”

Huh.

“You sure about that, doll?” I call back as I swing my leg over to stand up. I place my helmet on the seat and then walk over to her, pulling out my phone as I go to light her up again. I consider taking a picture but first things first. “You jack that wheel up right there and your car’s going to roll right down the hill.”

“The parking brake is on.”

I make a quick assessment to ensure none of her body parts are behind the wheel before letting her proceed to jack the car up, mostly because the sight is making me hard but mostly because I’m realizing she’s not going to toss the tools down and just let me do it for her.

It starts slow, just a few inches before the car really starts moving.

“Shit!” the woman exclaims as she jumps up. She starts toward the trunk like she’s going to stop the momentum of three thousand pounds of steel rolling downhill.

I do act now, snatching her with my arm around her waist and holding her backside to the front of my body as the car begins to pick up speed.

“What are you doing? Put me down!” she exclaims as she starts to kick and squirm, drowning me in her strawberry and vanilla scented hair. Her car really picks up momentum as it rolls down the hill, the flat tire she had been loosening flying off just before the little Honda slams into a row of trees.

“Congratulations, doll,” I say next to her ear. “You found the only hill on the east coast, the worst place to stop and change a tire.”

The fight goes out of her body, but her words are still sharp. “I could’ve stopped it if you had let me!”

“I’m sure that when the tires ran your body over it would’ve slowed down significantly, but it still would’ve ultimately ended up in the trees.”

“You’re an asshole!” She pushes at my arm around her waist, so I let her go. It’s not easy to restrain her with my brick of a phone still in my hand.

“I’m trying to help you and probably just saved your life!”

Spinning around, she yells, “You could’ve just told me!”

“Like you would’ve listened, Miss I’ve Got It and Don’t Need Any Help.” I shine my phone on her to get a better look at her face but only get a glimpse for a second before she covers it with her palms.

“Sorry.” The word is muffled like she hates saying it. “I’m running late and was just in a hurry. Now I’m fucked.”

“You’re not fucked,” I assure her. “I can give you a ride wherever you need to go tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll have a tow truck take your car to my shop and fix it up for you.”

“Really?” she says, her voice full of disbelief when she finally lowers her hands.

“Yeah, really.”

“What’s the catch?”

“The catch?” I repeat in confusion. “There’s no catch.”

“Yeah, right. There’s always a catch when it comes to men like you,” she says as she stabs her fingers through the front of her silky straight locks to push it out of her face.

“Men like me?” I echo.

“You’re big and buff with the fast bike and patches. I know what those mean. You’re all the same.”

“You know a lot of bikers?” I say in surprise as a sudden stab of jealousy gets me in the gut. Why do I care what kind of men she runs with? We just fucking met. Still, I don’t like it.

“Yeah, I do. In fact, they’re going to be pissed that I’m running so late. Their dicks won’t suck themselves.”

“Wait,” I say, holding up my palm because I don’t want to imagine her on her knees for some other man. I prefer the image of her on her knees trying to change a tire or her on her knees for me. That fantasy is completely ruined if she gets passed around like a bong that everyone gets to hit. “Don’t tell me you’re going to the Knights of Wrath patch-over party too.”

“Oh. Um, so you know the Knights?” she asks, all stubbornness gone. Now she sounds…nervous, scared even.

“Yeah, I know them. They’re about to become the Dirty Aces MC tonight.”

“They’re patching over?” she says in surprise.

“That’s right.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

She bites down on her bottom lip in thought, making me think of dirty things before she mutters, “I just thought it was a regular party. Patching over means…does that mean more protection?”

“Something like that,” I agree with a sigh. “At least we’re going to the same place. Makes it easy for me to give you a ride.”

She casts a longing look at her car that’s half in the forest, half in the grass.

“I’ll come and get it tomorrow,” I promise her. “Give me your number so I can keep you updated. When it’s fixed, I’ll bring it to the bar, okay? No strings.