The Biker's Fate Chapter 557

For the next ten minutes, I tried everything, including laying on my back on my bed to let gravity suck in my stomach, sprinkling more powder down the side just in case I could get a little more 'slick' happening, then rubbed some olive oil over the zipper…and nothing worked.

Either I found an alternative or I was going to have cut myself out of them and I seriously didn't want to do that. They'd cost me a mint.

I peeked my head out of my front door and heard music coming from my neighbor Louisa's place, so I took a chance and knocked on her door.

She was not the one who answered, however.

Oh, no. Because why would she be the one who would answer in my time of need?

No, it was some gorgeous, tall, built like a fullback, with muscles on muscles, dark hair, dark beard, Tom Hardy-looking, tight shirt, grey sweatpants wearing, sex god.

I scanned the room and saw an open bottle of wine and a candle in the center of a table with the remnants of a dinner for two. The lights were dim and romantic music was playing in the background, not to mention, the place smelled delicious, so it was obvious I'd interrupted a date.

I was mortified.

"Daisy?" Louisa walked out of the kitchen. "Everything okay?"

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Louisa set her wine glass on the coffee table and scoffed. "Don't be silly, what's wrong?"

"I… um, well, I'm kind of stuck."

She frowned. "Stuck? Stuck, how?"

I blushed. "Like, ah, my zipper. It's totally okay, you're obviously in the middle of—"

"Don't be silly." She waved her hand. "Come in here. Let me have a look."

I stepped inside and presented my hip. Louisa promptly attempted to tug the zipper down, which did not work.

"Lord, what have you done here?" she muttered.

"I tried to undo the zipper, but the little handle thingy broke off in my hand and the tracks of the zipper got stuck together and I can't breathe in enough to get enough leverage, and now I'm having a panic attack," I panted out. "And my legs are being strangled to death."

The man chuckled.

I glanced up at him and he gave me a chin lift. "Hey, I'm Huck."

Of course, it was. Even his name was hot.

"As in Huckleberry?" I asked, trying to be funny but probably sounding like a dork.

"How'd you know? No one ever guesses my full name," he returned with a sly smile.

I bit my lip. "I'm Daisy. I'm Louisa's neighbor and these are my pants which are currently trying to eat me."

Oh my god, why did I just say that? I'm so awkward. I deserve to die like this. Via a mixture of lack of oxygen to my lower half and acute embarrassment.

At least the guy I was making a fool of myself in front of was her date and not mine, which meant a zero-chance probability that he would ever look my way twice. Louisa was both stunningly beautiful and sweet as sugar. I couldn't compete with her if I tried.

"It's not budging," she breathed out. "Come and sit down… or lay down, whatever you need to do and I'll get my toolbox."

I did neither. I stood right where I was, awkwardly waiting for her return while trying not to stare at her drop-dead gorgeous date.

She returned with a rather impressive sized toolbox and set it on her coffee table. Pulling out a crescent wrench, Huck chuckled. "No, LouLou, that's not gonna work. You need the needle nose pliers."

Oh my god, he has a nickname for her.

I swallowed down my jealousy.

"Oh," she said, dropping the crescent wrench back in the box. "Which one are those?"

"Here, let me show you." Huck stepped over to the toolbox and pulled out the pliers, handing them to Louisa.

For the next ten minutes, she tried her best to work my zipper with no luck. My pants were fused to my body, and it was looking more and more like I was going to have to cut them off.

"Do you mind if I try?" Huck asked, and I felt my cheeks heat.

"Um, well, um… sure," I squeaked.

He smiled gently, taking the pliers from Louisa, and stepping to my side. "Let me know if anything hurts, okay? I'll stop immediately."

I nodded, and his strong hand slid under the waistband of my pants as he grabbed the zipper with the pliers.

It took him less than a minute to pry the teeth apart, freeing me from my prison, but also revealing the fact I wasn't wearing panties.

"Oh my god, thank you," I breathed out.

"No problem."

He glanced at the gaping side of my pants as I tried to hold it somewhat closed for modesty before he turned away and dropped the pliers back in the toolbox.

"I seriously thought they were a goner," I said as Louisa walked me to the door.

She grimaced. "You'll probably need to replace the zipper."

"Yes, but much cheaper than replacing the pants."

She grinned. "Very true."

"Thank you." I looked over at her boyfriend. "And thanks, Huck, I appreciate it."

He nodded. "No problem."

I headed back to my condo and peeled my pants off, readying myself for bed.

Huck

"Who the hell was that?" I asked Louisa.

"My neighbor." She nodded toward her door. "She lives across the hall."

"Oh, yeah?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Calm your tits, little brother. She is not the one for you."

"Why is she 'not the one' for me?"

"Because she's a biker princess."

I frowned. "I've never known you to turn your nose up at anyone, regardless of what they're into, LouLou."

She shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Her father's like the head honcho of a motorcycle club or something. I highly doubt you'll be able to get anywhere near her."

"Knowing you and where you get your information from, he's probably the third-ranked salesman of certified, pre-owned Honda ATVs in the Pacific Northwest."

"Shut up," she retorted. "No, seriously. I've seen him around here before. He's got the beard and the leather vest, the whole nine yards. And even though I haven't met him, he looks like the kind of guy who'd put his cigar out on your eyeball if you so much as looked at his daughter."

"I'll make sure I ride easy when I'm around her," I said, making the revving gesture as I said, 'ride easy.'

"Oh my god, don't ever do that again," she admonished. "You on a motorcycle is about as believable as Mom on a zipline over a volcano."

"What?" I cocked my head. "I'm cool."

"You're jock cool. That's way different than being hot, motorcycle cool… and riding dirt bikes around grandad's farm doesn't count."

"What? Now you don't think I'm hot enough for her?"

"Oh my god, I'm not about to talk about where my brother rates on the hotness scale." She made gagging noises as she pretended to choke. "Now, finish your beer while I pull the pie out of the oven to cool."

I took a swig of beer and stared at the front door as my sister walked back into the kitchen. MC princess, hm? Daisy didn't look like a biker woman. Not that I knew the first thing about biker culture, but she was blonde, curvy, obviously knew fashion, and soft in all the right places. She didn't appear to be hard or tatted out, and if she knew how fucking gorgeous she was, she certainly wasn't acting like it.

There was an innocence about Daisy, and I intended to find out more about her… used ATV salesman father or not.