Page 27 of Bear Strength

I kneel down. These fucking jeans are making it hard to do a man’s job in this God forsaken heat. But, I still kneel down.

“Let’s see what we got here,” I grunt.

She remains standing. The wind blows in my direction, and a whiff of her perfume hits me. Something flowery. The girly shit which usually makes me wanna puke. But, on her it smells like Heaven. I get up a moment later.

“Just a good old flat tire. Got a spare?”

I hear her sigh. She doesn’t have to say anything. I can read her like an open book. She isn’t pissed that her tire’s flat. She’s pissed cuz she’s got no spare.

“Listen, I could head back to town, check over at Al’s workshop about that spare. I could bring it back and help you fix it up.”

She’s still distrustful. She’s barely spoken to me since I stopped. Maybe she’s got issues of her own. I’m not the one to judge. Hell, I’m rarely the one to stop and help, but when I see a woman stranded by the road, the little bit of humanity in me awakens. Plus, she’s that kid’s mom. Can’t just pass her by. That’d be a dick move.

“I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” she finally says something.

Her voice is whiny. Soft. I wonder if she ever shouts. Probably not, with that pitch. But, she probably moans well. The thought gets me hard, surprisingly hard, and I adjust my stance, hoping my dick will think of ugly old nuns soon and back the fuck down.

“I’m just heading back to the house,” I tell her. “The guys won’t mind if I’m a little late.”

Before she says anything to that, I return to my bike, and step on it.

“Stay here!” I shout, as I pass her by.

Something tells me she might not be there when I get back. That distrust on her face went way deeper than just a mere stranger stopping to help. That was fear. And, I’ve seen fear. I’ve felt it. Recognizing it has become second nature.

I wrap it up quickly at Al’s, and head on back with a spare tire. To my surprise, she’s still there. She’s sitting by the side of the road, knees in the air, arms crossed over them. Any woman in that situation would be on the phone. Texting, talking, whatever. But, she’d be on the phone, for sure. This one’s not. My curiosity raises a little more, following the sight of her sweet little ass in those jeans. But, I need to focus. Can’t risk another boner.

“That was quick,” she doesn’t smile when she sees me, but I sense relief in her voice.

She gets up, then dusts herself off. Her blue t-shirt has gotten sweaty, but she still smells like a garden. How the Hell is that possible? I get off the bike and take off my jacket. I doubt I smell like a fuckin’ garden, but who the Hell cares. In this heat, there’s nowhere I’d rather be but back at the house. Still, the sight of her perky tits calms me down. It may be worth it.

“Al’s all about business,” I grin. “Get in, pay, get out.” She doesn’t smile. “Alright, let’s see.”

I grab the spare tire, and the small toolbox I got from Al, just for the occasion.

“Can I help somehow?” she asks.

Just sit there, looking pretty, I think to myself. Instead, I cough, clearing my throat.

“Just relax. This shouldn’t take long.”

I’m focused on the tire. I know she’s watching my every move, like a hawk. Guess I can’t blame her. A woman’s gotta be careful these days. You never know who you might run into. It’s not the first tire I’ve changed, so it really doesn’t take long. I get up a while later, feeling sweat dripping down my forehead. I’d kill for a beer right now.

“You make it look so easy,” she tells me, a little less distrustful now.

She’s still not smiling. A part of me wishes I could make her. But, those pretty lips of hers are pressed tightly together. Almost like she’s making herself stay serious. Like she’s not allowed to smile or laugh.

“There’s nothing to it,” I smile broadly.

The first thing I’m gonna do when I get to the house is take a nice shower. I got oil everywhere, even on me.

“I really don’t know how to thank you,” she sounds truly grateful.

I could think of a few ways. But, I don’t say that.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be stranded here for hours.”

“I doubt it,” I wave my hand, but she actually might be right.

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