it easy,” he said as the figure in all black leathers coughed as if gasping for breath and tried to sit up. The biker was small, slim and a damned lucky dude.
As Jesse knelt down beside him in the glow of the pickup’s headlights, he saw with shock that he’d been wrong and let out an oath as a hand with recently manicured nails pulled off the helmet. A full head of long dark curly hair tumbled out and a distinctly female voice said, “I’m okay.”
“Holy…” he said rocking back on his heels. This was one damned lucky…chick.
She had her head down as if a little groggy.
He watched her test each leg, then each arm. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He couldn’t believe everything was working right. “Nothing’s broken?”
She shook her head, still bent over as if trying to catch her breath.
He waited, amazed as he took in the leather-clad body. Amazed by the bod and the bike. She was wheeling a forty-thousand-dollar ride that most men couldn’t handle. A hell of a bike for a girl. It was too heavy for anyone but an expert rider. No wonder she’d been able to dump the bike and not get hurt.
She tried to get up again.
“Give it another minute. No hurry,” he said, looking from her, back up the highway to her bike. This gal had nine lives, a whole lot of luck and she knew how to ride that fancy bike. He wasn’t sure what impressed him more.
“I’m all right.” Her voice surprised him. It was all female, cultured and educated-sounding and in stark contrast to her getup and her chosen mode of transportation.
But the real shocker was when she lifted her head, flipping back her hair, and he saw her face.
All the air went out of him as if she’d sucker punched him. “Sweet Mother—” he muttered, rearing back again. She was breathtaking. Her skin was the color of warm honey sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar freckles across high cheekbones. And her eyes…They were wide and the color of cedar, warm and rich. She was exquisite. A natural beauty.
And there was something almost familiar about her…
She tried to get to her feet, bringing him out of his dumbfounded inertia.
“Here, let me help you,” he said and reached under her armpits to lift her to her feet. She was amazingly light and small next to him.
She accepted his help with grace and gratitude even though it was clear she liked doing things for herself.
She took a step. “Ouch,” she said under her breath and swayed a little on her feet.
“What is it?”
“My left ankle. It’s just sprained.”
Maybe. Maybe not. “I’ll take you to the hospital emergency room to see a doctor.”
She shook her head. “Just get me to my bike.”
“It’s not rideable.” He’d seen enough twisted metal on it even in passing to know that. “I’ll load it into my pickup. There’s not a bike shop for a hundred miles but I’ve worked on a few of my own. I might be able to fix it.”
She looked up at him then as if seeing him for the first time. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the boots, jeans, bike rally T-shirt and his long dark ponytail. Her gaze settled on the single gold ring in his earlobe. “You live around here?”
“Right up that mountain,” he said, pointing to the light he’d left on. It glowed faintly high up the mountainside.
She studied it. Then him.
It was three in the morning but he had to ask. “Is anyone expecting you up the road, anyone who’ll be worried about you? Because I don’t have a phone yet.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. “You have ice for my ankle at your place?”
He nodded.
“Good. That’s all I need.”
“I have a clean bed you’re welcome to for what’s left of the night,” he offered.
She flashed him an in-your-dreams look.
He smiled and shook his head. “All I’m offering is a bed. Maybe something to eat or drink. Some ice. Nothing more.”
She cocked her head at him, looking more curious than anything else. He wondered what she saw. Whatever it was, he must have looked harmless enough before she started to limp toward her bike. “I need my saddlebag.”
“I’ll get it,” he said catching up to her and offering a hand. “No reason to walk on that ankle any more than you have to.” She quirked an eyebrow at him but said nothing as she slipped one arm around his shoulder and let him take her weight as she hobbled to the pickup.
As he opened the passenger-side door and slid her into his old truck, he felt way too damned chivalrous. Also a little embarrassed by his old truck.
She glanced around the cab, then settled back into the seat and closed her eyes. He slammed the door and went to load her bike.
He’d only seen a couple of these bikes. Too expensive for most riders. It definitely made him wonder about the woman in his pickup. The bike didn’t look like it was hurt bad. He figured he should be able to fix it. He liked the idea of working on it. The bike intrigued him almost as much as the woman who’d been riding it.
He rolled the bike up the plank he kept in the back of his pickup, retrieved her saddlebag and, slamming the tailgate, went around to climb into the cab of the truck beside her. He set the heavy, bulging saddlebag on the seat beside them.
She cracked an eyelid to see that the bag was there, then closed her eyes again.
“The name’s Jesse. Jesse Tanner.”
She didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes. “Maggie,” she said but offered no more.
He started the engine, shifted into first gear and headed back up the mountain to his new place. The road was steep and rough, but he liked being a little inaccessible. He saw her grimace a couple of times as he took the bumps, but she didn’t open her eyes until he parked in front of the cabin.
She looked up at the structure on the hillside, only the living-room light glowing in the darkness.
“This is where you live?” she said and, opening her door, got out, slipping the saddlebag over her shoulder protectively.
Something in her tone made him wonder if she meant the cabin or the isolated location. The only visitors he’d had so far were his younger brother, Mitch, and his dad. He figured if he wanted to be social, he knew the way to town and it was only five miles. Not nearly far enough some days.
He looked at the cabin, trying to see it through her eyes. It was tall and narrow, a crude place, built of logs and recycled cedar but he was proud of it since he’d designed and built it over the winter with the help of his dad and brother. It had gone up fast.
Three stories,
