With a sigh, she started walking again. About a mile from the inn, she passed the art gallery, waving at Lucille when the older woman stuck her head out and smiled. Snowflakes hovered in the air. Not many, and they didn’t seem to stick once they hit the ground. But the way they floated lazily around her as the day faded into dusk kept her entertained until she found herself in town.

She suddenly realized that she was standing in front of a bar. She stepped back to read the sign on the door, tripped off the curb, and stumbled backward into something big, toppling with it to the ground.

A motorcycle. “Crap,” she whispered, sprawled over the big, heavy bike. “Crap, crap.” Heart in her throat, she leapt to her feet, rubbing her sore butt and ribs and mentally calculating the cost of damages against the low funds she had in her checking account.

It was too awful to contemplate, which meant that the motorcycle had to be okay. Had to be. Reaching out, she tried to right the huge thing, but it outweighed her. She was still struggling with it when the door to the bar suddenly burst open and two men appeared.

One was dressed in a tan business suit, tie flapping, mouth flapping, too. “Hey,” he was saying. “She was asking for it…”

The second man wasn’t speaking, but Maddie recognized him anyway. Hot Biker from earlier, which meant-Oh, God. It was his motorcycle she’d knocked over.

Karma was such a bitch.

At least he hadn’t seen her yet. He was busy physically escorting Smarmy Suit Guy with his hand fisted in the back of the guy’s jacket as he marched him out of the bar.

Smarmy Suit pulled free and whirled, fists raised.

Hot Biker just stood there, stance easy, looking laid-back but absolutely battle ready. “Go home, Parker.”

“You can’t kick me out.”

“Can, and did. And you’re not welcome back until you learn no is no.”

“I’m telling you, she wanted me!”