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“I thought you hated motorcycles.”

“I never said I hated them.”

“You looked at mine like it was going to murder you.”

“I was nervous.”

“And now?”

She looks at the bike.

Then at me.

“Now I get it.”

I stare at her a second too long.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Food.” I put my hand on her lower back and steer her toward the diner.

She glances down at it. “Is this appropriate touching?”

“Rule three allows lower back.”

“You memorized my rules?”

“Baby, I’ve thought about your rules more than you have.”

Her step falters. I laugh and open the door.

Inside, the diner smells like coffee and bacon.

A guy behind the counter looks up.

Then grins. “Well, shit.”

I recognize him immediately. “Tommy.”

He comes around the counter and pulls me into a rough hug.

“Hale. Thought you were in Colorado.”

“Mostly.”

He looks at Clara. “And who’s this?”

“My girlfriend.”

Clara nearly trips over a chair. I’m going to enjoy this fake-dating thing.

“Clara,” she says, shooting me a look. “Bennett.”

Tommy shakes her hand. “Tom Reynolds. Ryder made me a rich man.”