He’d only had one other woman on the back of his bike, and he’d thought she’d be his back warmer forever, but she’d walked away and had never looked back. Three grueling years had numbed the pain of losing her. He wasn’t stupid enough to let himself get tangled up with another woman and let whatever was brewing between him and Madigan go anywhere. But he was going to enjoy the hell out of this moment and revel in the feel of her and the ferocity of wanting and being wanted.

When he pulled up in front of LOCAL and cut the engine, he was fully prepared to shut this shit down. To drive away, have the other mechanic at the shop fix her vehicle, and never give Madigan Wicked another thought.

They climbed off the bike, and she peeled off her helmet. As she shook out her hair, tipping her face up to the sky, she was so fucking beautiful, he knew he’d replay the stunning sight too many times to count.

“Thanks for the ride.” She cocked her head, her hair falling in front of one eye, giving her a seductively innocent look.

With those sweet, smiling eyes watching him, he suddenly didn’t want to say goodbye, and hell if he knew why. “What do you do here?”

“I’m a puppeteer. I do puppet therapy with the residents.”

He couldn’t hide the amusement rising inside him, and she must have seen it on his face, because her expression turned serious.

“Why is that funny?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You drive a pink Vespa, wear a Barbie helmet, and you’re a puppeteer. You tell me.”

“I guess if you put it that way, it kind of makes me look like I’m living out a childhood fantasy.”

“Are you? Because I’ve got to tell you, I can picture you as a plucky little girl telling her brothers off and planning some sort of revenge with your puppets.”

“They’re not voodoo dolls.” She laughed. “Although that’s probably a good thing, because having four brothers can be trying. But I didn’t get into puppets until after high school, and I take this part of puppetry very seriously. What I do helps with fine motor skills, and encouraging the residents to use and make puppets helps with social interaction and stimulates their brains.”

“Really?” Thinking of his grandfather, he said, “Any chance it helps with middle-stage Alzheimer’s?”

“It can’t cure it, but it can help trigger memories and break down communication barriers that can go hand in hand with dementia. It can help with depression, too.” She glanced at the building. “I’d better get in there so I’m not late. My grandfather lives here, and I want to see him before I start work.”

“Really?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Do you see him often?”