I was so wound up that I didn’t see the matte black Harley parked near the diner until the bumper of my truck smacked into it.
Thump.
I slammed on the brakes and watched in complete horror as the beautiful bike tipped over in slow motion.
“No, no, no!”
Throwing the truck in park, I scrambled out, nearly tripping over my own feet as I ran to the downed bike.
There was a gnarly gash on the paint, and my stomach dropped all the way to my toes.
“Oh God. Oh God.”
I grabbed the handlebars with both hands, straining with everything I had to try to get the thing off the ground, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Come on,” I muttered, teeth clenched. “Come on.”
The bike may as well have been a dump truck for all the progress I was making.
Then strong, tattooed hands wrapped around the handlebars beside mine, and up the bike went back onto its stand.
I jerked my head up.
And up.
And up.
The owner of the tattooed hands was huge and gorgeous.
Tall and broad with a touch of silver threaded through his dark hair, and when my gaze finally reached his face, I forgot how to breathe.
His eyes were the deepest green I had ever seen.
I watched in shock as those beautiful eyes widened in surprise.
“Fuck me,” he breathed.
Heat rushed through me so fast it left me dizzy, and I hated that my body noticed him before my brain could remember that men were dangerous.
He cleared his throat and offered me his hand. “I’m Odin.”
A shiver rolled through me at the sound of his deep voice.
“Harmony,” I said breathlessly as I took his hand.
Recognition flashed in his eyes. “The egg lady.”
I blinked.
Then he shook his head slightly. “Tyson mentioned we bought eggs from someone named Harmony.”
Tyson.
My eyes dropped to the patch on his cut.
Odin. President.
I had sworn off men, but even if I’d wanted to change my mind, I wouldn’t get involved with a biker. I knew how Moody and his band of merry assholes operated.
