“Can I just say I love that he calls you Blue Eyes? That’s so sexy.”

“Marly. Focus.”

“Sorry. Maybe he has a girlfriend and he got caught up in all your hotness, then realized he didn’t want to be a cheating dick after all.”

“I didn’t think of that. He did say he had to go someplace nearby when I was at work. Maybe he went to see someone.”

“Or not,” Marly said casually. “He is a guy, and half the time they don’t even know why they do things.”

“That’s true, but what you said doesn’t seem far-fetched. So, why am I still thinking about him? He’s obviously not interested, and I need a guy with secrets about as badly as I need a hole in my head.”

“I don’t know, Mads. Maybe because he’s got thick, delicious thighs, a perfect ass, and eyes that say he screws like a sex God and he’s a little broken. I think you like that mystery, and if he’s looking, I doubt he wants anything more than a good time, which makes him perfect for you. That’s why you can’t stop thinking about him. And we both know everyone wants what they can’t have, so the more you think about why he turned you down, the more you’ll want him.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m totally screwed?”

“According to the laws of attraction…”

As Marly went on about the laws of attraction, Madigan glanced out the kitchen window, and for a moment she thought she was hallucinating. Her Vespa was in the driveway. “Holy shit.”

“I know, right? If the energy of our thoughts attracted people or experiences with the same energy, couples would never break up.”

“Not that. He dropped off my Vespa.”

“At your house?”

“Yes. It’s in the driveway.”

“Now, that’s what I call service. I guess you know why he didn’t come in last night. I like a guy who gets shit done. Too bad he drives a motorcycle.”

Madigan’s heart raced as she hurried out the front door and saw an envelope sticking out from under the mat on the porch. “Hold on. He left a note.”

She felt the hard form of the key as she withdrew the note, and Marly said, “Dear Blue Eyes, I don’t like to leave things unfinished. Now that your Vespa is fixed, want to screw?”

“It’s not an invitation to a mattress party,” Madigan said with disappointment. “It’s a receipt for the work he did. The labor is zeroed out, and it looks like he paid for the parts.”

“You’ve got to like that. What else?”

She looked inside the envelope again. “Nothing. What the hell? This was really nice of him, but how am I supposed to take this?”