Saved by a Biker (Biker Erotic Romance) by Emily Stone Page B

silence.
     
    She coasted to the edge of the highway and pulled off onto the wet gravel shoulder. She turned off the car and sat clutching the steering wheel, too exhausted to do anything more than cry.
     
    She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there crying when a soft tap on the window next to her startled her and caused her to scream. Duane had found her! But the person standing next to the car wasn’t Duane. Duane never rode a motorcycle and had often said that anyone who did so had to be a stupid, low-life loser.
     
    There was a motorcycle next to her car, and the person standing in the dark, wearing full leathers, was too big to be Duane. He had a flashlight in his hand and was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. He held up his hand and signaled for her to lower the window. When she looked back at him in fear, he held up his thumb and forefinger showing a gap of about an inch and yelled, “So you can hear me.”
     
    Vanessa lowered the window so that a small gap appeared at the top. “Are you all right?” the man asked. Despite his size and rather rough appearance, his voice was surprisingly gentle. Vanessa couldn’t really see him clearly with the flashlight shining through the window into her eyes, but she could tell that he was a big man--much bigger than Duane.
     
    “Yes,” she answered. “I think I’m out of gas. I mean, the car is out of gas. I mean... I’m just very, very tired. I’ve been driving a long way today.”
     
    “Hopefully not all the way from Minnesota,” he answered. The fear in her eyes must have told him something because he quickly added, “Your license plates. They’re Minnesota.” Then he set the flashlight on top of the car so that it was pointed at him, and stepped back so she could see him clearly.
     
    He had that reddish-auburn hair you find a lot in the south—at least, his well-trimmed beard was that color. She couldn’t really see his hair under the dew rag with a Harley emblem that was tied around his head.
     
    His face had that somewhat hard look that a person gets when they have seen a lot of the wrong side of life, but he was smiling and his eyes were wide and peaceful. They weren’t exactly blue, but they weren’t really green either. They seemed to change colors as he moved in the light.
     
    “My father runs a repair shop in town,” he said. “I can take you in, if you’re willing to ride with me.” He smiled again. “Or I can send one of the deputies out to get you, but they might be on patrol on the other side of the county and it could take another hour or so.”
     
    Vanessa unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. He continued, “My dad can bring you back out here tomorrow in his tow truck. If it is just gas, he can put enough in to get you into town. If it’s more than that, he can tow it in to his shop.”
     
    She didn’t say anything, but stood silently beside the bike. “Make sure it’s locked,” he said. “And I’ll tag it so the county doesn’t tow it as abandoned before dad gets out here in the morning.” He opened a saddlebag and took out a small roll of plastic tape that looked like crime scene tape, only smaller, and bright green.
     
    He tore off a piece and tied it to the driver’s side mirror. Then he put another strip on the top of the antenna. “That means it’s been checked and a tow will come for it when it’s light,” he explained. “It also means that my dad has claimed it as his tow.” He held up the tape so that Vanessa could see that it said “Brody’s” on it.
     
    “I’m Brody, Junior,” he explained. “I’ve got a bike shop out in Colorado, but every spring when the weather first turns good, I close the shop for two weeks and make my long ride back home to see Momma. They aren’t really expecting me until tomorrow morning, so I wasn’t pushing it while it was raining.”
     
    He smiled again. Vanessa liked seeing that smile. “Farmers around here are in the fields, and