Page 3 of Bear

“I guess I’m just a product of my raising.” She smiles, and it about knocks the wind clean out of me. “I’m gonna call you Tennessee.”

I arch a brow. “You can call me whatever you want, darlin’, so long as you’re screaming it.”

“Good to know.” She slides off the bike, bringing us face-to-face—or, I guess, face-to-nipple, since she’s so goddamn tiny. “Now, if you’re done with your male posturing, you mind if we get this bike into the garage?”

“Whatever you want. As long as your mechanic knows his stuff and doesn’t fuck my bike, lead the way.”

She slips off the back of the truck and I follow suit. After closing the tailgate, Tink smirks. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

I climb into the truck and close the door. Tink slides into the driver’s side, throws the stick shift in gear, and hits the accelerator as if her foot is made of lead. I grab the doorframe and hold on for dear life as the trees fly by.

Her lips quirk, and she takes the last corner before town at breakneck speed. I keep my white-knuckled grip on the truck.This bitch is gonna wreck me and my bike before we even make it back to town.

She pulls into a double lot filled with rusted-out old cars and some new ones, too, that look to be in pretty good condition. That’s a shit-ton of real estate for the center of town. The rent on this junk yard must cost them a pretty penny.

The main building is painted in swirls of blue and purple with a hint of pink, and a smattering of white dots that make up the stars in the Milky Way. Above the building, there’s an old sign shaped like a planet with the words, “Jupiter’s Custom Builds and Auto.”

She climbs out of the truck and opens the tailgate. “Bobby Ray, Jeb, Liam, Grant—will one of y’all come help me with this?”

Well, shit. Now I feel like a real asshole. “Wait, you’re Jupiter?”

“That’s what the sign says.”

“Lemme guess—you’re outta this world.”

“I’m out of patience,” she mutters, walking toward me. Tink grabs a clipboard from the dash and scribbles on a form.

“So, this is your garage?”

“Surprised?”

My brow creases. “Little bit, yeah. Listen ... I’m real sorry I was a dick.”

“That’s okay. Most bikers are.”

“Whoa,” I say, holding up my hands to ward away the aggression. “Now who’s judging who unfairly?”

I shake my head, looking around the lot. A sleek black Mustang that looks like long nights of whiskey and fucking catches my eye. It sits in front of the shop, calling to me like a goddamn siren with her shiny paint, chrome hardware, and red leather seats.Jesus.My dick’s getting hard just looking at her.

“Tennessee?”

“Yeah?” I tear my gaze from the vehicle and meet pissed-off Tinkerbelle’s eyes.

“Are you getting out? Or are you gonna sit there jerking it all day?”

I shake my head and slide from the pickup, meeting her at the tailgate.

“Look, I ain’t got a whole lot of time, so if there’s nothing else you need, there’s a diner that way.” She points to the building next door. “I’m sure they’ll let you use their phone to call a ride. Your bike will be ready in a few days, depending on how long it takes me to get a new part.”

I tap the side of the truck with my fist. “It says here you offer a free complimentary driver service to ‘get you where you need to go.’”

She sighs. “I’m gonna kill Bobby Ray for putting that on the side of my truck.”

“So, you’ll take mewhere I need to go?”

“Well, we’d love to help out, but I don’t think we can spare the manpower to take you all the way to hell.”

I chuckle. “What about to the clubhouse outside of town then?”

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