On her third and final errand stop of the morning, Madison was loading her few groceries into the van when she heard the thunder of a motorcycle long before she saw it. The black and chrome Harley that pulled off the roadway and cruised into the lot was beautiful. Madison watched as the rider parked it in the slot next to her van.

The rider turned off the metal beast and set the kickstand. As he pulled the helmet up and off his head, Madison recognized him. Trigger Daniels from the Black Mountain Bikers club. He was more beautiful than the motorcycle he was riding, with his black, wavy hair falling in to his shoulders. In the sunlight, his hair had a deep blue cast.

Forcing herself to keep her composure and not show that she was actually ogling him, Madison reached for the handles on another reusable grocery bag and tugged. Why had she packed them so heavy? Because she’d been in a hurry to get back home and work on her sculpture. As she hefted the bag with both hands, the worn handles broke free of their fabric and cans of soup and vegetables spewed into the cart and onto the pavement, where they rolled scattershot in every direction.

“Whoa! You can stop the barrage; the war’s over!” Trigger laughed and stepped off his ride.

“I’m sorry. My bag…” She grinned and shrugged, standing there stupidly as Trigger bent to gather up stray cans.

“Where do you want these?” He was holding six cans out to her.

“Um…here. Just stick ‘em in here.” She held out the bag with the broken handles and he put the cans in it, his hand brushing hers lightly on the exit.

He bent to pick up more cans. Madison kicked her brain into gear and bent to help. Twice they bumped arms putting cans in the defunct bag; both times they made eye contact and laughed easily as if they’d been friends for a long time.

Lifting the bag easily, Trigger stood slowly and placed it in the van between other bags to hold it securely. He turned to Madison, flashing that superstar smile of his, making her heart jump into her throat and her palms sweat.

“There you go. They should be good ‘til you get home; I wouldn’t recommend hitting the brakes too hard, though.” He laughed again.

“Thank you; I won’t. I’ll try not to, anyway.” Madison moved to shut the doors.

“Are you an artist of some kind?” Trigger was standing so close that his body heat touched Madison’s back and his voice was right in her ear.

Stunned by his sudden closeness, she went still and stammered. His right arm appeared over her shoulder and he pointed at the art supplies. The tribal tattoo of a winged serpent wound from his wrist upward and disappeared under the rolled-up sleeve of his flannel shirt.

Madison chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I sculpt, but it’s no big deal. You know, a hobby.” She pushed the doors shut.

When she turned he hadn’t moved very far away. The invasion of her personal space wasn’t as unpleasant as she’d thought while turned in the other direction. In fact, she didn’t mind that he’d invaded her personal space; he smelled sexy and the way the sun glinted off his hair and made his dark green eyes seem like jade was breathtaking. She had the sudden urge to hug him just to get her hands on him and press her body to his. Instead, she leaned against the closed door of the van and smiled up at him.

“When someone says something isn’t a big deal, it most assuredly is a big deal. Especially if that person is a woman.” He winked at her and backed up a step.

“That was a really sexist thing to say.” Instantly offended, she sidestepped him and held out her hand for him to shake.

He took her hand in a firm, warm, strong grip. “Are you offended? I didn’t mean it to be sexist. That’s just always been my experience.” He shook her hand and shrugged. “Hey, if you say it’s no big deal, then it’s no big deal, I guess.”

“Thanks for helping me with the cans.”

“You’re welcome.”

Determined to be upset with his remark, Madison pushed the cart to the return corral and then got in her van. Before she could pull the door shut, Trigger stepped up and took hold of it. Startled, she jumped and squealed.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. There was a can of green beans in front of your tire.” His green eyes were laughing though his expression was straight as he handed her the can through the gap.

Unnerved, she said, “Thanks again,” and tossed the can into the passenger seat.

Trigger pushed her door closed and stood staring at her as if he had something more to say.

“I really should get going. It was nice seeing you, though.” She smiled her fakest smile and raised her eyebrows, still determined that because of that one flippant remark, Trigger Daniels was then and forevermore an asshole. He had to be, right? A sexist asshole, at that.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded curtly, looking down as he thumped his palm on the door. “Right. So, I’ll see you around, huh?”

“I’m sure. Small town and all that.” She started the engine and pulled on her seatbelt.

As she put the van in gear and started to pull away, Trigger appeared in her open window again. “Hey! You’re a sculptor?”

Madison nodded.

“What do you sculpt? I’m wondering because I’d like to commission a piece, if you do that sort of work, that is.” He smiled again, his old confidence back in action and changing his features to downright sexy in a flash.

“Yeah, my sculptures probably aren’t like any you have in mind.” Intrigued by his actions, Madison waited. What did he really want? Was he really after a piece of artwork? Or, was he after something else? If he was after the something else, he didn’t have to use her artwork as a means to an end—he could just come out and say what he wanted. Not that she would be willing to go to bed with him—he was an asshole, after all. She’d already made up her mind on that.

“Oh. Then why don’t you invite me to see some of your sculptures? Let me decide for myself whether or not your work is anything like I might or might not have in mind?” He leaned on the door.

He was so tall that he was eye level with Madison as she sat in the driver seat. And, ooh, those green eyes were wearing at her resolve to think poorly of him.

“Only if you’re serious about wanting a sculpture. If you’re just playing at something here, don’t bother. Okay?” Her words came out more clipped than she’d anticipated or meant for them to come out.

“I am serious. I want a sculpture for…well, I’ll tell you after I’ve seen your work. Is that all right?” He smiled.

“Come by my house,” she quickly scribbled her address on her receipt and handed it out the window to him, “around five this evening and I’ll show you some of my work. We can discuss particulars then.”

After reading the address, Trigger folded the paper and stuck it in his front pocket. Looking soberly at Madison, he shook her hand again. “You have a deal. I’ll be there at five.”

As she drove toward home, Maddy couldn’t get Trigger off her mind. She was smiling at nothing and no one and at everything. Just the thought of Trigger coming to her house, made her smile for some reason.

When she pulled into her driveway and parked the van, Madison was still pretty sure that Trigger was a sexist asshole.

Pretty sure.

Maybe not an asshole, but definitely a sexist.

Nodding agreement with her thoughts, Maddy began unloading the van, still smiling for no reason.