Claimed by the Biker Giant

Chapter 3

Maxine POV

The beeping sound of my phone alarm made me sit up and look around. It took a moment to remember where I was. The room had a small curtain that barely kept the light out. There was a streetlight just outside my window. I can envisage myself getting better blackout curtains soon. Although it was annoying, it wasn't among my top priorities for making this a home.

The shower was decent, with nice pressure. I followed my morning routine, only to realize how foolish I was to wake up so early, living above my place of work; I didn’t need to ride here. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I still had half an hour before I needed to be at work.

I had two ways to get into my place: one was through the back stairs, and the other was through the shop. With the code to turn off the alarm, I decided to head down and start work early. It was better than moving stuff around; I can do that later. I had a bike to finish by this afternoon. The customer would be here at two.

Turned off the alarm, turned on the coffee pot, the radio, and headed to my workstation, where the fat boy was waiting for me to finish. I sat on the stool with casters and began my job, singing loudly to the heavy rock song that came on the radio as I installed the new spark plugs and double-checked the oil. It was a simple, easy-peasy service. Once finished, I started the bike up, let it idle while I made coffee, then returned to rev it a few times. It sounds lumpy, like it was just turning over perfectly; it was music to my ears. I love that throaty, deep, lumpy sound. You can feel it vibrate through my chest.

“That’s a sound I loved to hear as I enter work.” My boss, Mike, said as I turned the bike off.

“It’s ready to go, unless you want to take it out for a test ride. Want a coffee, pots hot.” I offered as I threw the dirty rag in the bin.

“Sure, I will take the bike out for a spin, and you can make me a coffee.” He smirked as he grabbed the bike. I opened the garage door, and Mike took off. I smiled as he disappeared down the street, and I turned to make both of us coffee. If you hadn’t guessed already, I would drink a lot of coffee. I am not a fan of soft drinks or tea; for me, it's coffee or water.

With a broom in hand, I began cleaning the shop. I am not out here very often, but I try to sweep the floor at least once a week; they have another apprentice who’s a second year, who gets to do most of the cleaning up, but he’s never here on a Saturday.

The sound of the bike returning prompted me to pick up the two cups of coffee and head back out to the workshop. Mike had a massive grin on his face as he parked the bike.

“Great job, you are our top mechanic. But don’t tell anyone, or I will have to deny it.” He joked, taking his coffee from my hand as he walked by, no doubt letting the customer know the bike was ready ahead of time.

I moved to the next bike, which was a total rebuild; it had been in a minor accident, and while the frame was being checked, I would work on the engine and gearbox. It was the only job on my list at the moment. The bike owner was in no hurry; he had a broken leg, giving me a few weeks to work on his bike and any urgent jobs that might come into the shop.

The client arrived and happily took possession of his bike, very happy with the job done.

“I hear you’ve been invited to the club party tonight,” Mike said as he rang up the sale on the cash register.

“Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’.

“You can leave now, we have no more customers expected. Good job today.” It was close to one o’clock, near the time I would knock off.

“Thanks, boss.” I saluted him and rushed upstairs, before he could change his mind. Giggling all the way up. I heard him chuckling as he locked the door below, behind me.

I decided on a quick shower; I didn’t want to smell of oil when going to a party. Put on my skinny black jeans, a black blouse that had red flames on the back and on the pockets, black boots that had some chains around the ankle, and hair in a ponytail. I will get what we call helmet hair, so it's a waste to do much with it now. I use mascara and strawberry lip gloss, which is more to moisturize my lips, which tend to dry out when I ride my bike, and that's it. The last thing I grabbed before leaving was my jacket.

My mum used to grumble that I wasn’t like my sister and put more effort into my appearance, but I like who I am, and I didn’t like wearing lots of makeup; it was my choice, and I feel that I am not a frilly, lacey chick. It was a deal breaker with my mum. She had my sister dress up and left me in the care of Grandpa until he died when I was seventeen.

It broke me when he left the world. He was the only person who got me. My grandma had been gone since I was young, and I filled the hole in his heart with my love for bikes and fishing. He left me his money and bikes. Dad got his house and business. My mum hated that I gained all that money. When Grandma died, she left me her jewelry, and Grandpa made sure to keep it safe till I was old enough to have it.

I ate something and put some more of my stuff in the cupboards before my phone chimed to let me know my girlfriends were on their way to the party.

I pulled my bike out of the small garage and started it up. I threw my leg over and took off, heading to the property. The clubhouse was half an hour out of town, set on a large property a little bit back from the road.

Ten minutes later, I came up behind the girls and hung out behind them. My friend waved me on to take the lead. I shrugged and overtook her. The turn off arrived, and I rode happily up the long drive, and trees lined the road. An open, large steel gate appeared, and I was glad it was still enough light to see clearly.

Men stood by the entrance, watching us arrive.

“Hey.” I greeted the biggest man I had ever seen.

“Who invited you here?” The man asked gruffly, in a deep husky voice.

“Bruiser,” I answered, with a firm, clear voice, hoping that the fact that he frightened me would be noticed in my voice.

He pulled out his phone and called, I assumed, Bruiser.

“Max?” He asked, as he looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. He said something more and hung up the phone.

“Come in, the car behind your girls?” He looked at the car behind, which clearly had a woman in it.

“Yep,” I replied, not at all liking how he intimidated me with his manner.

Perhaps it was the way they greeted strangers.

One look makes the weak run.

Well, I am not weak, and I won't be running.