Fang
I wasn’t going to stop.
It was obvious that someone had broken down and after a passing glance at the beat-up old camper when I sped by, I wasn’t exactly surprised.
Surprised the old death trap ran to begin with, sure, but not that it had stopped working.
Grinning to myself, I twisted the throttle harder.
Home was close, so close I could already feel the ice-cold beer that would be thrust into my hands when I finally reached the Savage Sons’ clubhouse.
That’s when I saw her. Blonde hair streaked with all the colours of the rainbow, tanned legs. The bottle she was holding caught the low rays of the sun.
“Asshole.”
My bike slowed like it had a mind of its own, bringing me to a stop. I sucked in a breath. I wasn’t a total asshole, but some random chick at the side of the road
