Small Town Seven (Haremworld)

Chapter One

Samantha

My lips formed the words to the song on the radio, belting out a terrible rendition of the only song I knew by John Mellencamp. All I had been able to pick up since I got close to Granite Falls was one station playing classic rock—at least I knew the words to Jack & Diane—most of them anyway. I stumbled over the parts I didn’t know and tossed in some random lyrics that sounded sort of right.

Yeah, yeah—that word.

I didn’t know much about Granite Falls. I had been there once when I was a kid, but I was too young to really remember the visit. It was my father’s home town but he was in no condition to deal with my grandmother’s estate after she passed. I agreed to go in his stead, pick my grandmother’s ashes, and tend to whatever remained of his childhood home. I wasn’t expecting much. My father had described the place as little more than a dirt farm with a shack sitting in the middle of it. There was nobody to contest the will since my father was her only son and everything was left to him. I hoped I could sign some paperwork, transfer the deed, and be on my way. If my father wanted to sell the place or do something with it, he could do so after he recovered from his latest health scare.

Yeah, that word too…

My lips keep bopping along with the words and then I heard an audible pop that was louder than the radio. A second later my car was jerking to the left, and the shaking was barely within my control. “What the…”

I had kept the gas pedal on fifty-five since I wandered into the thirty-five mile per hour speed zone. It was a long stretch of road that connected the interstate to Granite Falls and I hadn’t seen anything but trees for miles. As soon as I heard the grind of metal and pavement, I realized I had a blowout. My car rolled into the left lane and I pulled it back to the right before letting it slowly decelerate towards the side of the road. I quickly unfastened my seatbelt and got out of my car. The tire was blown and the pavement had chewed up a good bit of the rubber along with the edges of my rim. It didn’t look good but my situation looked worse. I dug through my purse and found that I didn’t have any bars on my cell phone. Even the radio had went to static as if it gave up on me as well. I certainly didn’t like the idea of dragging my jack out of the trunk to get my two-thousand-pound automobile off the ground so I could change the tire, but it looked like that was my only option.

Change a tire. I’ve seen this done before. How hard can it be?

I hit the button to release my trunk and sat my suitcase on the ground beside the bumper. I pulled back the carpet to reveal the secret compartment underneath it with my jack and my spare tire—which was nothing more than a donut. It wasn’t going to get me home, but it would get to me to Granite Falls, which was all I cared about at the moment. I went through the painful process of removing the jack without breaking a nail and then started messing with the screw holding the donut in place. I started trying to twist it and found it was stuck. I gave it several turns, but all I managed to do was tear a bit of skin off my finger. My frustration grew and I grabbed the tire iron, trying to finagle it as a lever. Another attempt was made and then I felt the nail on my index finger snap. It broke at the tip of my finger in a jagged pattern, causing me to recoil and shake my finger. As I gritted my teeth to give it another try, I heard a roaring motor behind me. I turned to see a motorcycle approaching and as it got closer, it seemed to be slowing down.

Well, I’m either going to get murdered or helped—let’s hope it’s the latter.

The large black motorcycle came to a stop several yards behind my car. The engine roared for a moment and then went quiet as the rider hit the kickstand with his boot. I turned to face the motorcycle as the rider stepped off and started removing his helmet. The helmet came off to reveal shoulder length blond hair and a thick beard of matching color. He put his helmet on his motorcycle and started walking towards me, holding his hand against his forehead to keep the sun out of his eyes. He was dressed in a white t-shirt, a black leather vest, and a pair of blue jeans that sat on top of black motorcycle boots. The first thing I noticed were the tattoos which ran up both arms creating a full sleeve—the second thing I noticed was the insanely large biceps that the ink was decorating.

“What’s the problem?” His tone had a bit of a southern edge to it and sort of reminded me of the way my father would drag out some of his words.

“The tire went flat.” I grimaced and pointed. “I’m trying to change it.”

“Your hand is bleeding.” He pointed and I lifted my hand, noticing that the spot where the nail had broken was splattered in crimson.

“Well, like I said. I’m trying.” I sighed and shook my head.

“Move out of the way, I’ll take care of it.” He walked to my car and removed the screw holding the donut with one quick twist of his hand.

I need muscles.

“I’m Axe, by the way.” He leaned back from my trunk with the donut in one hand and the jack in the other.

“I’m Samantha. Thank you so much.” My face turned to an expression of pure gratitude as he walked towards my blown-out tire. “Are you from Granite Falls?”

“Born and raised.” He nodded as he knelt and started examining the tire. “Where are you from? If you were from Granite Falls, I’d already know you—small town.”

“I grew up in Atlanta. My father is from Granite Falls though—and my grandmother.” I leaned against the car and he started jacking up the car.

“Who’s your father?” He finished jacking up the car and pushed the tire iron onto one of the lug nuts. With a quick push, it was spinning free from the bolt.

“Randy Grant.” I doubted Axe would know him. My father left town when he was sixteen and Axe appeared to be around my age.

“Grant…” He nodded. “Must be Mrs. Grant’s son. I saw the obituary in the paper last week.”

“Did you know my grandmother?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Not really. I saw her around town a few times, but that is about it. I just got back into town recently myself.” He finished the second lug nut and moved to the third.

“I’m here to tend to her estate. My father is too sick to do it himself.” I watched his muscles flex as he continued removing lug nuts.

“So you’re not sticking around?” Axe looked up at me and his deep blue eyes sparkled in the sun.

“No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m just here to deal with her estate.”