The Alpha's Captive Book 1 - Taken - Page 8/44

She heard the sound of traffic in the distance. But of course, there was nothing in sight.

Just my luck, she thought. She was perfectly capable of changing a tire herself, but she wouldn't refuse a white knight, if one came along.

Or a black one, for that matter.

She shrugged and set to work pulling out the full-sized spare and dropping it in the grass next to the flat tire, surveying the damage for the first time.

Crap. The old tire was just shredded. Gone. She hoped she wouldn't need a new wheel. She got the jack and lug wrench and tossed them next to the spare. She pulled off the hubcap-an original spoked model that she'd bought to restore the car to its former glory-and slotted the wrench into place. She pushed, but nothing happened.

Damned pneumatic tire-changing tools. They tightened the nuts so hard they locked up sometimes. Well, Harper knew one way to deal with that. She shifted the position so that the wrench was parallel to the ground, then stomped it with all her weight.

The lug nut gave, and she smiled in satisfaction. She was no rail. She was big, just like her personality, and she knew how to use her body-around cars, around horses, around the kitchen, and with pretty much any problem that needed solving. And there were plenty of men who appreciated that about her-the big boobs, full hips and butt. Too bad she kept going for the losers.

Harper recognized the purr of a motorcycle just as the second nut loosened. As she bent to fit the wrench over the third, she realized the bike was stopping. She peered down the length of the car just as a man in motorcycle dark brown leathers stepped around it.

He was tall, with ropes of muscles over his spare frame and a three-day scruff of a beard. His face was heartstoppingly handsome-young but tanned and already slightly weathered, just the way she liked them. His grin when he saw her was distinctly predatory, and he pulled off his sunglasses to reveal delicious amber eyes and shoved them into the pocket of his jacket. Big, rawboned, and as hot as sin on a three-day bender.

He-llo.

"Nice view," he said, his gaze resting on her rear, which was still pointed skyward as she bent to push the lug wrench into place.

No kidding.

"You going to help?" She cocked her head at the tire. "Or are you just here to admire?"

He leaned against the side of the car. "Looks like you're doing fine."

She snorted and stood, folding her arms and cocking a hip. His eyes flickered down to her cleavage. She knew full well that her posture drew attention to it, and she smirked back at him.