by Sadie King
His Curvy Possession
Biker Brothers of Winter Town - Book Four
Sadie King
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William
When I escape for some air before the most important business call of my life, I don’t expect to find a woman dancing barefoot in my Zen Garden.
The last two years of my life have been spent working toward this business deal. But now, all I can think about is her.
Ariel
Dad’s drinking is getting worse, and it’s starting to lose him clients. So I step in and take over the gardening business. But who knew our most profitable client was such a silver fox?
He’s older than me, confident and handsome. The kind of man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. And I think what he wants is me…
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Copyright © 2020 by Sadie King.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, companies, locales or persons living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
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His Curvy Possession
Lena
I’m stuck in this small town for a few weeks clearing out my dad’s things. When I come across Dad’s old motorcycle, I just know I have to fix it up and learn to ride.
But when I meet the bearded motorcycle mechanic, I can’t stop thinking about his rough hands and hidden tattoos. The longer I spend time with him the harder it’s going to be when I have to leave. Because I do have to leave...
Sammy
Ever since I can remember, I’ve had motorcycles in my life. I ride them, I repair them; it’s my world.
Then she comes along with her spiky heels, red lipstick, and city girl attitude. She’s got no business learning to ride a bike. But I’m bound to teach her, and I’ll give her a lesson she won’t ever forget.
Book Four in the Biker Brothers of Winter Town series. Short, sweet tales of men who ride and the curvy women who claim their hearts.
Contents
1. Sammy
2. Lena
3. Sammy
4. Lena
5. Sammy
6. Lena
7. Sammy
Epilogue
Biker Brothers of Winter Town
Get your insta-love fix!
1
Sammy
The concrete floor feels hard under my back even through the mat I’m lying on. I slide the bolt into the cylinder head and turn the spanner until I feel the nut tighten. A dollop of grease slides down the engine and drops heavily onto my t-shirt, joining the other smudges of grease and oil.
I’m so engrossed in my work it’s a while before I notice the unfamiliar noise. I frown at the sound, trying to figure out what it is and why it’s getting louder. With a start, I realize it’s the clack of high heels on concrete.
I tilt my head as the owner of the heels comes into view. At first all I see is a pair of thin black heels around pale ankles. My eyes travel up the curvy legs to the roundest, most perfect ass I’ve ever seen.
She’s wearing white pants which are as out of place in a motorcycle repair garage as the heels.
“Can someone help me with this?”
The voice belongs to the owner of the perfect ass and I swivel around to get a look at her face, bashing my head against the brake pedal.
Pain shoots through my skull, and I grasp my head in my hands as I sit up.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” Jason, the young apprentice, has appeared out of nowhere and is practically salivating over her.
“I’ve got a bike that needs fixing,” says the woman.
“I’m sure we can help,” says Jason.
My gaze travels up her curvy figure. She’s got full breasts which are pushing against a satin top, and her long, dark hair frames a pretty face with a dark smear of blood red lipstick highlighting her full lips.
For a moment I can’t speak. Then I notice the bike she’s wheeled in. She’s holding it tentatively by the handlebars as if she’s afraid it’s going to bite her.
I wipe my hands on a cloth as I stand up.
“Is that a 1980s Cruiser?” I ask.
She turns her large brown eyes on me, and I feel her gaze taking in my beard, rough hands, and grease-stained shirt. I’m suddenly aware of how unkempt I must look to her with her white pants and satin shirt.
“You own this place?” she asks.
“Sure do. My name’s Sammy.” I hold out a hand to her. She looks at it for a moment, and I’m aware of the grease under the nails and a bandage covering an engine burn. Then she takes it in hers.
“I’m Lena.”
Her hand is small compared to my large mitt, and up close she’s short, although most people are compared to my six foot two. Her head comes up to just above my shoulders. No wonder she wears such high heels.
“To be honest, I don’t know what this bike is, but I want to know if there’s a chance to restore it, get it running again.”
“Sammy can bring any bike back to life,” chimes in Jason.
“Is that so?” says Lena, looking at me. Her gaze is so intense I get the feeling she’s sizing me up.
“Jason, have you finished the polish on the Yamaha? It’s getting picked up in an hour.”
“Right, boss. Getting on it.”
He trots away to the other side of garage leaving me alone with Lena.
“May I?” I ask, indicating the bike. She nods, and I take the handlebars off her and prop the bike up.
“Does she start?” I ask.
“I have no idea.”
“Any gas in her?”
She shrugs. “Not sure.”
I knock my knuckle against the fuel tank and hear the slosh that tells me there’s gas in there.
“You got the keys?”
She pulls out a bunch of keys from her pocket and hands them over.
“I think it’s one of those.”
There have got to be ten keys on the ring. I suppress a sigh of frustration.
“You find this on the side of the road or something?” I ask.
She smiles. “Something like that.”
The second key I try turns the engine over. It splutters for a few seconds then dies. I crouch down to inspect the engine. It’s dirty with grease but no rust spots.
“It may be possible, but I can’t promise anything until I’ve taken a good look at it.”
She nods. “How long will it take?”
“It could take a three to four weeks, depending on what the problems are.”
She bites her lip. “Any chance it could be ready sooner?”
“It depends on if I need to send off for parts and how thorough a job you want done. I won’t know until I take her apart and see where the problems are.”
She stares at me hard for a moment. “Fine. Take a look and let me know what you think.”
She turns to go.
> “Hey,” I call at her retreating back. “What’s your number?” Her eyes go wide in surprise, and a blush creeps up her neck. “I’ll need to call you when I’ve taken a look at the bike.”
“Oh.” She looks down, embarrassed, and I can’t help but smile at her confusion.
She tells me her number, and I write it down in the appointment book that’s covered in smudgy thumb prints.
“I’ll give you a call when I know what we’re dealing with.”
“Thanks,” she mumbles.
I watch her walk away, high heels clacking on the concrete, the tight pants making her ass sway hypnotically. I sigh. She’s the type of sophisticated girl who would never be interested in a grease monkey like me. I turn away and go back to my bikes.
2
Lena
I leave the garage feeling hot and agitated, and it doesn’t subside when I get back to the house.
I pour myself a glass of cool water, but I can’t shake the image of the motorcycle mechanic out of my mind. The broad shoulders, the black ink snaking out from the edges of his t-shirt and wrapping around muscular arms, the large hands and rough beard. It’s enough to make a girl swoon.
I drink the water and sit down at the table with my laptop. I’m supposed to be on a sabbatical from the magazine, but I can’t help but write about this place. The small town where everyone’s a stranger but also so friendly. It’s so different from the bustling city life I’m used to. I’ve been taking notes, journaling about the people I meet and places I see.
It’s late that afternoon when my phone rings.
“Lena.”
“Hi, Lena. It’s Sammy, from the garage.”
My stomach does a little flip at the sound of his voice. It’s as gravelly and sexy as his rough mechanic look.
“I’ve had a look at the bike. The engine’s in great condition mostly. It needs a few new parts and probably a replacement clutch and a good paint job. But I think I can restore her.”
“That’s great, great news. Thank you.”
“I’ll be able to start next week. It will cost a bit though.”
He tells me the price, which is a good chunk of money, but I agree.
There’s a silver ornament on the kitchen table. It’s a man on a motorbike with a child riding pillion. I found it in the bedroom among Dad’s things. I pick up the ornament now and turn it over in my hands.
“There’s something else,” I say before he can hang up. “I want to learn to ride.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“You don’t know how to ride?”
“No.”
He goes silent again.
“Do you know anyone who can teach me?” I ask, worried I’ve offended him. “Is there an instructor in this town?”
“Yeah. You’re talking to him.”
My stomach does a flip again, and I frown at it. The last thing I need right now is to be attracted to a hot guy. But I hear myself saying, “Great, can you teach me?”
There’s another silence before he speaks. “When do you want to start?”
“Tomorrow?”
We make arrangements for the following day, and I’m about to hang up when he asks, “You ever been on a bike before?”
It’s my turn to be silent. I run my hand over the girl on the silver ornament.
“Only once when I was about twelve. On the back of the bike that’s sitting in your shop.”
“Oh.”
Before he can say anything, I say goodbye and hang up. I sit for a while at the table running my hand over the smooth silver of the miniature bike.
3
Sammy
I pull up at the address she gave me on the phone yesterday, a small brick house on the edge of town. The grass is overgrown, and the paint around the windows is crumbling.
She comes out the door before I can knock, and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. She’s as gorgeous as I remember. Her simple t-shirt and short skirt shows off her curvy body, and she’s wearing those sexy heels. Then I remember why I’m here, and I frown.
“You can’t ride a bike dressed like that.”
Her smile turns into a scowl.
“What’s wrong with this?”
“Those heels are inappropriate, and if you came off with that much flesh exposed, you’d take the skin off.”
She pouts at me and looks around.
“Where’s the bike I’ll be riding?”
“You’re not riding today.”
“I’ve paid for a lesson.”
“And the first lesson is being a passenger with me.” I smile brightly, and she frowns. “You need to get a feel for how a bike feels underneath you, the weight, the power, the speed.”
She folds her arms, and a defiant frown creases her brow. “That’s not a proper lesson.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m giving the lessons. My rules.”
We stand facing each other for a moment, and my god she’s sexy with her defiant pout.
“Fine,” she says. “We’ll do it your way.”
She moves towards the bike.
“Oh no you don’t. Not dressed like that.”
She shoots me an evil look. “Okay. I’ll go and change. But the heels are staying.”
She prances into the house, and I let out a long sigh. She may be the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, but she’s also frustrating as hell.
A few minutes later, she comes back outside dressed in jeans and a denim jacket but still wearing the high heels. She looks at me defiantly as she snatches the helmet I hold out to her.
“First lesson is putting on the helmet.”
“I think I know how to put on a helmet,” she says, trying to put it on backwards.
“Other way,” I say, unable to suppress a smile.
I take it off her, turn it the right way, and slide it onto her head.
“This is where you adjust it.” I run my fingers over the straps, tightening them up for her. My fingers brush her neck, and I feel a shock run through me. I step back quickly but she’s looking at me funny, and I wonder if she felt it too.
I talk fast to hide my confusion. “I’m going to take it slow. Hold on to me and give me a squeeze if you want to stop.”
She nods, and I help her climb on the bike.
We head out of town and along a tree-lined road. I’m aware of her hands on my waist and her body close against me. It’s a nice feeling, and as I drive away from town and into the hills, a feeling of contentment washes over me.
4
Lena
The wind whips my face as the world rushes past beneath my feet. It’s exhilarating, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Sammy speeds up and I lean into him, enjoying the warmth of his leather-clad body.
We climb into the hills until he pulls over at the top of a ridge. I slide off the bike grinning.
“That was awesome,” I say pulling off my helmet.
“Think you can ride one on your own?” he asks.
“Only one way to find out.”
He laughs, an easy laugh that lights up his whole face. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”
We climb onto a large rock and sit looking out over the view. There’s a line of thick fir trees, and beyond that we can see all of Winter Town laid out before us.
“Why do you want to learn to ride?” he asks.
“Do you ask all your clients that?”
“I don’t usually have to. They’ve usually been on the back of their big brother's bike, or their dad’s, or their boyfriend’s and decide it’s time to ride their own. I’ve never had a client who’s never been on a bike before.”
“I have been on a bike.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “And that’s another mystery. Where did you find that old classic?”
I look out over the trees and the town stretched out below.
“It was my dad’s,” I say quietly. “He passed away a few months ago.”
The smile drops off his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay. We weren’t close. I hadn’t seen him for about ten years.”
“I’m really sorry, Lena. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He takes my hand in his to comfort me. It’s big and warm, and suddenly I feel like I do want to tell him all about it.
“He left when I was a baby. I was twelve the last time I saw him. He turned up on that bike and stayed with us for a week, sleeping on the sofa. Mom wasn’t pleased, but I loved having him around. He took me for a ride on the back. Mom was furious, but I’ve never forgotten that feeling, holding on tight to him as we sped around the neighborhood.”
I realize I’m crying and stop to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “When I found out he’d passed away and left his house and all his belongings to me, I was shocked. I took some time off work to come down here and sort through it all.”
“And that’s where you found the bike?”
I nod. “In a corner of the garage. He wasn’t much of a father to me, but I feel like I want to honor him by bringing the bike back to life and learning to ride. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly.”
I realize that we’re still holding hands, and he’s shifted his body so we’re almost facing each other. He’s so close I can smell the sweet scent of grease on him, and I have to resist the urge to run my fingers through his beard.