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slapped an opened sudoku puzzle in front of Hot
     Biker. “Just do this puzzle in three minutes or less.”
    “Why?”
    “There’s a woman at the end of the bar, the one with the fuck-me heels—Jesus, don’t look! What, are you an amateur? She said
     she’d do things to me that are illegal in thirteen states if I did the puzzle in less than five minutes. So for all that is
     holy, hurry the fuck up. Just don’t let her see you doing it.”
    Hot Biker looked at Maddie and smiled. “Trying to impress a woman here, Ford.”
    Ford turned to Maddie speculatively. “I suppose you already know that this guy here has got some charm. But did he tell you
     that in our freshman year we nicknamed him Hugh because his stash of porn was legendary? Yeah, he had more back issues than
     eBay. And maybe he mentioned that he can’t pee his name in the snow anymore because the last time he did, he gave himself
     a hernia trying to cross the X at the end of his name?” Ford turned back to Hot Biker and slapped him on the back. “There.
     Now you have no hope of impressing her, so get cranking on that puzzle—you owe me.”
    Hot Biker grimaced, and Maddie did something she hadn’t in weeks.
    She laughed.

Chapter 3

    “A glass of wine is always the solution.

Even if you aren’t sure of the problem.”
    P HOEBE T RAEGER
    S o you collect porn.”
    Jax Cullen took in the genuine amusement on the woman’s face and shook his head. Fucking Ford. “Past tense,” he corrected.
     “I sold the collection to an incoming freshman when I left for college.”
    “Uh-huh. That’s what they all say.”
    Liking the way the worry had faded from her eyes, which were now lit with good humor, he leaned over the bar and whispered
     near her ear, “Want to swap stories, Speed Racer?”
    She composed herself enough to grimace. “I’m just glad you can laugh about me almost killing you.”
    “As opposed to?”
    “I don’t know. Yelling.”
    Jax studied her face before she turned away from him, purposely eyeing the bottles of alcohol lining the back ofthe bar, trying to conceal her discomfort. “Not much of a yeller,” he murmured and reached out to play with one of her dark
     blond curls. He couldn’t help himself—they were irresistible.
    So was she.
    “I’ve heard that LA women are pretty aggressive in their pickup tactics. But this just might be one for the record books.
     You should probably just save us both some trouble and ask me out directly.”
    “Hey, I didn’t nearly run you over on purpose. And I tripped on the bike trying to read the sign.”
    “Ah, but you don’t deny the attempting to pick-me-up part.” He nodded. “You want me bad.”
    She laughed and then shook her head as if surprised at herself. “If you plan to keep stalking me like this, we should be on
     a first-name basis. I’m Jax.” He held out his hand. “Jax Cullen.”
    She slid her smaller, chilled-to-the-bone hand in his. “Maddie Moore.”
    He knew the name, more than he wanted to. She was Phoebe’s middle daughter. Giving himself a moment, he rubbed her hands between
     his, trying to warm them up. Earlier when she’d been using the highway—and nearly his body—for offensive-driving practice,
     he’d gotten the impression of a sweet, warm, and very stressed-out woman, and that hadn’t changed. He loved the wild, curly
     hair which was barely contained in a ponytail, but her long side bangs brushed across one eye and the side of her jaw, nearly
     hiding her eyes and her pretty face.
    She’d dressed to hide her body, as well. Watching her squirm on her barstool under his scrutiny, he wondered why. “What’s
     your poison?”
    “A beer, please.”
    Jax grabbed two Coronas, lifted the walk-through, and took the barstool next to her. Ford, who was a coowner of the place—and
     until about two minutes ago also one of his best friends—came back and jabbed a finger at the sudoku book. “You haven’t even
     started it? Killing me,