Hot Biker shook his head.

Smarmy Suit put a little distance between them then yelled, “Fuck you, then!” before stalking off into the night.

Maddie just stared, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure if it was the volatile situation, ringing far too close to home, or if it was because any second now, he was going to notice her and what she’d done. With renewed panic, she struggled with his bike.

Then two big hands closed around her upper arms and pulled her back from it.

With an inward wince, she turned to face him. He was bigger than she’d realized, and she took a step backward, out of his reach.

His dark hair was finger-combed at best, a lock of it falling over his forehead. He had a strong jaw, and cheekbones to die for, and disbelief swimming in those melted caramel eyes. “Mind telling me why you have it in for my bike?”

“Okay, this looks bad,” she admitted. “But I swear I have nothing against you or your motorcycle.”

“Hmm. Prove it.”

Her gut clenched. “I-”

“With a drink.” He gestured with his head to the bar.

“With you?”

“Or by yourself, if you’d rather. But you look like you could use a little pick-me-up.”

He had no idea.

He righted his bike with annoying ease and held out a hand.

She stared at it but didn’t take it. “Look, nothing personal, but I’ve just seen how you deal with people who irritate you, so…”

He looked in the direction that Smarmy Suit had vanished. “Parker was hitting on a good friend of mine and making an ass of himself. Yeah, he irritated me. You haven’t. Yet.”

“Even though I’ve tried to kill your bike twice?”

“Even though.” His mouth quirked slightly, as if she were amusing him. Which was good, right? Amused at her klutziness was better than being pissed.

“And anyway, the bike’s going to live,” he said, directing her to the door, the one whose sign read THE LOVE SHACK.

“This is a bad idea.”