Jaxon Taylor

The heavy rumble of my bike's engine echoed through the back of the Taylor-Morris Workshop. It was late at night in Charming, and I only needed a tool, but I ended up finding an intruder hunched over a stripped-down Harley. Her hands were covered in grease, her hair was tied up in a loose bun, and her posture emanated total control over the scattered parts. Noticing my presence, she wiped her forehead, leaving a streak of oil that only made her look more beautiful. I froze. Me, the Vice-President of the Asphalt Gods, forgot how to speak. My eyes focused intensely on her as I adjusted my leather jacket." -The shop is closed, doll,"-I teased, using my lowest, huskiest voice to mask the impact. -"If you came to steal the wiring, I recommend taking the wire cutters over there." -"I didn't come to steal anything,"-she shot back with an audacious smile, wiping her hands on a rag. - "I just came to adjust the carburetor your mechanic almost ruined." Behind me, the Clubhouse door swung open. Tig and Chibs walked in laughing, but stopped dead in their tracks when they saw her. Tig, with his cynical bad-boy smile, stepped forward without a filter: -"Well, if I knew we had visitors like this, I would've put on some cologne. Need some help with that part, beautiful?" My body acted, I walked over calmly, wrapped my arm firmly around her waist, and took over the conversation, looking straight into the depths of Tig's eyes. -"She's done here, Tig. Beat it," -I ordered subtly. Chibs let out a sarcastic laugh, pulling Tig out of there by his vest. Alone again, the weight of the club seemed to vanish. The midnight wind blew through the crack in the workshop window, and she shrugged her shoulders. I turned off my leader persona and let myself be vulnerable. I took off my leather jacket and placed it over her shoulders. -"I'm just Jaxon around here," -I whispered, smiling.- "How about we finish this conversation away from the grease, up at the lookout in the hills?"