Her epic dose of melancholy could be laid squarely at Crickitt’s feet. Indirectly, of course. Any woman as happy as Sadie’s best friend hadn’t meant to create a virtual vortex of happiness that sucked everyone in around her. With that kind of joy flooding the air, Sadie had only been able to feel two things: thrilled beyond compare for Crickitt and Shane, and anguished over her own failed relationship with the man she thought she’d loved.

That wiped the smile right off her face.

Sadie pushed the memory back into a drawer and filed it under L for “Leave it Alone.” The same place she’d filed the day Trey called to confess he couldn’t marry her because he was in love with her sister. Funny how memories from that drawer unfiled and spread themselves out for her at the worst possible times.

Not today.

That’s right. NOT today. Aiden could wreak havoc on her subconscious another time. But today, she needed her A game when she walked into Axle’s.

The custom motorcycle shop stood before her, her own personal Mount Doom. One of five stores in Ohio, Axle’s in Osborn was the first store, the highest-grossing store, and the store where the man himself continued to work.

She’d tracked the company’s sales and orders for years, but Axle Zoller’s second-in-command, Harry Truman, insisted on sticking with List for their motorcycle parts and supplies. She often wondered if he did it just to spite her. She’d worked hard to schmooze Harry, but made the mistake of addressing him as “Mr. President.” Turned out the man had no sense of humor. Seemed a silly reason to pay more for lower-quality products, but no matter. Harry Truman had recently been impeached.

With President Harry Truman out of the picture, Sadie knew she had to swoop in before Axle replaced him. She was confident she could charm Axle into signing with Midwest Motorcycle Supplies.

Sadie peered into the side mirror of her car and checked her reflection. Her blonde hair hung in loose waves from where she’d slept on it wet, and her freckles were out in droves thanks to a weekend visit to the pool. Deep magenta lipstick accented her wide mouth, and a thick layer of black mascara coated her lashes. She adjusted her wardrobe, a black pencil skirt paired with a Harley-Davidson polo shirt.

She strode to the shop, her heels almost sinking into the soft black asphalt baking in the ninety-eight-degree day. Her thoughts returned to her goal, sending her adrenal glands into silly spins. No one at MMS had knocked Perry Bradford off his number one pedestal since he started six years ago. Landing Axle’s would shove her over his numbers by thousands of dollars.

Do or die time.

Inside the store, chilly air wafted the smell of fresh leather into her nostrils. Various splashy signage and displays showcased List parts and swag, along with the unmistakable orange and black of Harley-Davidson.

Axle spotted her from his position behind the special order counter, signaling he’d be with her in a minute. She waved back, heading to a particularly impressive shelf stocked with List’s bold black and white boxes. Of course the major brands were all represented: Harley, Suzuki, Kawasaki. Sadie didn’t dream that MMS parts would take the place of the big guys. What she wanted was the chunk of pie belonging to the off brands. MMS and List were both respected brands, but beneath their glossy exterior, Sadie knew List’s parts were substandard.

Axle’s deep baritone echoed across the store a few minutes later. “Come on back, Sadie.”

Determination lengthening her stride, Sadie stood tall and proud in her studded black heels, lifting her to almost five foot six. Axle angled down a long corridor and led her to a cramped office, its shelves sagging under the weight of hardcover books on everything from bike repair to Catcher in the Rye.

He hulked over his desk, long gray braid trailing down his back, tree-trunk legs testing the task chair’s weight limit. He was also a former boxer, which one would guess given the way his massive chest nearly burst the seams of his shirt.

Smoothing his thick, walrus-like moustache, Axle folded meaty hands in front of him on the desk and addressed Sadie with a quick lift of his eyebrows.

Sadie smiled, her confidence soaring. Axle liked her. She’d cultivated a careful professional relationship with him for the past three years, just waiting for the day Truman left. Axle endured her persistence, never once asking her to leave him alone. A good sign.

“Let me stop you there.” Axle’s flat gray eyes gave no hint as to what he was about to say. “You’re going to pitch this to my new second-in-command.” He gave her a gruff smile…or at least she thought he did. His moustache twitched on one side. “I’ll go get him.”

“But—” was all Sadie got out before Axle was out of his office. He moved fast for a big guy. She adjusted her skirt and mentally reviewed her sales pitch. The one she’d be giving to a newcomer. Whom she knew nothing about.

She’d need to be professional, of course. And not as familiar as she would have been with Axle. If the guy was a recent college graduate or CEO type, she’d have a lot of glossing over to do to explain her less-than-professional attire. She grimaced down at the silver studs on her feet. Why hadn’t she worn sensible pumps?

Taking a breath, she considered the more likely scenario: that Axle had hired someone like himself. Someone with a penchant for hogs, an admiration for irreverent T-shirt sayings, and a strong head for business. Axle wasn’t stupid. Far from it. She’d learned his IQ hovered around genius level though she couldn’t dredge up the figure. Sadie’s talent with numbers extended only to the ones with dollar signs before them.

She leaned and peeked through the doorway and down the hall, and caught a glimpse of an arm behind Axle, who came toward her like a tank in Tiananmen Square, his big body obscuring the rest of the man behind him.

No matter who the new guy was, Sadie had just one chance to impress him, not insult him, and get a sample of his penmanship on the bottom line. Sadie straightened in the out-of-date, stained guest chair. Sure she could be prickly, smart-mouthed, and sarcastic. But she also could be charming. And she knew her stuff. She could handle whoever came through that door.

Then Axle entered, his new second-in-command at his side, and Sadie felt the blood drain from her face.

Anyone except for Aiden Downey.

As big as Axle was, Aiden dominated her vision. His muscular legs in a pair of soft worn denim frayed over black motorcycle boots, broad shoulders and firm chest covered by a black collared shirt with the word Axle’s embroidered over his right pectoral. And his face. The jaw she had kissed, had raked her fingernails against; the same jaw that had scraped the softest part of her neck when he kissed her, was covered with enough scruff to make her feel the phantom scratch of it on her skin now. And then there was his hair…long, thick strands she used to spear her fingers into—

Oh God.

She blinked, sure she must be imagining things, and swallowed the gasp working its way up her throat. Somehow she had to keep from appearing alarmed while her stomach took a dive to her toes. The dark blond ponytail he normally wore low on his neck was…gone. The strands that used to hang loose and brush his cheekbones, shorn. His hair had been such a part of him, so…Aiden. And that she’d loved touching it, feeling it brush against her face when he kissed her, had surprised no one more than Sadie.

Kind of like the next four words out of her mouth.

*  *  *

“You cut your hair.”

Aiden’s smile broadened as he took in the sight of Sadie Howard perched on the guest chair, eyes wide, jaw dropped.

Of all the motorcycle shops in the world…

He palmed his neck, still getting accustomed to the recent change. “Yeah. I did.”

It probably should have occurred to him he might run into Sadie eventually, given they worked in the same, often overlapping field. But then, he’d been busy rebuilding his life—reclaiming his life after he finally decided what to do with it—so he hadn’t given running into Sadie much thought.

He’d made it a point to put the plucky blonde out of his mind since the wedding. He spent the week following the wedding holed up at Shane’s Tennessee cabin. Despite jogs in the woods, swims at the lake, and one ill-fated attempt at whittling, Aiden had nearly gone mad with boredom. That’s when he decided to make a life plan. Decide what, once and for all, he wanted to do with his career. With his future. Focusing on the future quieted the thoughts banging around in his head about his failed marriage, the loss of his mother, the career he’d tanked.

At the wedding, he’d been plagued with guilt, but he’d since spent many mornings in silent reflection, examining his life and accepting where he’d arrived. His conclusion? He’d made plenty of mistakes but refused to haul them around like burdening weights.

Little by little, the guilt swimming in his gut evaporated. Anger flashed in Sadie’s dark eyes. Perhaps she didn’t share his renewed view on life. “Good to see you again,” Aiden said, offering his hand to see if she’d take it.

“You two know each other?” Axle asked, flicking a look between them.

“Sort of,” Sadie grumbled, standing. Tossing her head, she regarded Aiden’s outstretched hand before giving it a brief, rough shake.

Aiden couldn’t repress the smile that inched its way across his face. Sadie’s flow of fair curls, lush pink lips, and pert little body had nothing on the razor-sharp wit and flair of confidence hard to find in the opposite sex.