“What the hell is this?” He stormed up and got in her face. “I leave you alone five minutes and you’re begging strangers?”
“I didn’t ask him for anything, Tyler. I swear. He just—” Tyler grabbed her arm. Hard. She flinched. “He just what? Just happened to fill the tank? Nobody does that without asking.”
Tyler finally noticed me. I’m 6’3”, 240 pounds, leather vest with decades of patches, gray beard down to my chest. I look like exactly what I am—an old biker who doesn’t back down.
“Yeah? Mind your business, old man. This is my girlfriend and my car. I don’t need your charity.” He yanked her toward the car. “Get in. Now.”
She obeyed, but I stepped in front of the door. “I don’t think she wants to go with you.”
Tyler sneered. “Seriously? Brandi, tell this old dude you want to come with me.”
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