“Just watch,” Toni said.

She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but now that she could see the track, she saw riders zooming up and down dirt hills, skidding around sharp turns, and launching themselves high into the air before landing with solid thuds.

“How ’bout you just watch too?” she said to Logan. She cringed when she saw a rider wipe out and skid sideways through the dirt. As soon as he came to a stop, he jumped to his feet, picked up his bike, and kick-started the engine before zooming off again, dirt spraying out behind his spinning back tire.

“You’re kidding, right?” Logan asked.

She wasn’t, but she nodded and grabbed the front of his jacket to pull him close for a kiss, clinging to his lips as if it was the last time she’d see him alive. He patted her butt when they drew away.

“I’ll wave to you,” he said and with a quick wink, he walked away, leaving Toni to clutch her sweatshirt with apprehension.

Birdie stood at the fence that separated spectators from the track. She had her hands over her ears, but was watching the dirt bikes zoom past in wide-eyed, slack-jawed wonder.

“Come up top so you can see both sides of the track,” Toni called, slipping the sweatshirt over her head and her arms into the sleeves. Now that Logan had gone, she was chilly. Birdie paid her no mind. Likely she hadn’t heard Toni over the squalls of the engines when she had her ears covered.

Toni touched Birdie’s back, and Birdie looked up, eyes wide. “They’re fast!”

“Are you cold? I brought you a sweatshirt.”

Birdie uncovered her ears long enough to put on the sweatshirt, but she covered them again as they climbed the metal stairs of the bleachers. About halfway up, Toni barked her shin on the edge of a bench, which sent her hobbling in pain. She should probably wrap herself in bubble wrap before she ventured out in public.

“Special treat today, folks,” an announcer said over the speakers. “Logan Schmidt is on the track.”

There was a smattering of enthusiastic applause and cheers from the small crowd that had congregated in the stands.

Toni spun around so quickly, she almost tumbled down the steps. Birdie grabbed her and pulled her down on the nearest bench. Yeah, they were probably high enough. The higher she climbed, the more likely she was to die from a fall.

Birdie clapped excitedly and pointed as Logan, dressed in red from boots to helmet, sped onto the track. He zipped past other riders as if they were standing still.

“He’s going too fast,” Toni said, her heart thudding in the vicinity of her throat.

When he reached the top of the first hill, his bike leaped so high into the air, she thought for sure he was going to sail right over the fence. But he landed on the top of the next hill as though his wheels had never left the ground. Toni’s stomach plummeted when on his next jump he released one handlebar to offer her the wave he promised. Birdie waved back excitedly, but Toni couldn’t pry her fingers from the metal seat she was clinging to with all her strength.

Logan sped around the track faster—how was that possible?—and this time when he hit the highest hill, he did a back flip in midair. The crowd went wild. Birdie jumped to her feet. Toni’s vision tunneled and her head swam. When he landed safely on his back tire and gunned the engine to ride out the rotation in a wheelie Toni sagged in relief only to tense again when he popped over the next hill and flew sideways, his bike parallel to the ground.

“He’s good!” Birdie clapped excitedly on Logan’s next jump.

He was good—no, better than good. He was amazing. But dear God, he was going to kill himself! Or kill her from heart failure.

By the time he’d skidded, jumped, flipped, and sped around the track half a dozen times, Toni began to relax and then got caught up in the excitement of watching him control the bike as though it were an extension of his body. The strength and athleticism he displayed was truly inspiring, but it was his daring that had her switching from terror to arousal. The man was risking his life for a thrill, and Toni suddenly wanted to tackle him off that noisy motorcycle and ride him for hours.

It was almost an hour later before he finally zoomed off the track. Toni took Birdie’s hand and together they left the stands to find him. He was easy to spot in his bright red race pants and jersey, even though he was completely surrounded by women. And a few men. But Toni only noticed the women. Jeez, not only did they flock to rock star Logan, they also flocked to freestyle motocross Logan.

“Is Logan a slut?” Birdie asked.

Good question.

“He has a lot of sweethearts.”

He certainly did.

Toni squeezed Birdie’s hand. “You aren’t supposed to use that word, remember?”

Logan leaned in close to a woman to hear what she was saying over the noise of the track and then laughed, that charming smile of his turning heads.

“Is there a good word for someone with a lot of sweethearts?” Birdie asked.

Asshole came to mind. Toni knew it wasn’t Logan’s fault that he was gorgeous and talented and fun and outgoing, but she wished she was the only woman who noticed.

“Toni? Is there a good word?”

“Um.” Toni racked her brain for a child-friendly synonym for manwhore. “Popular?”

“Logan sure is pop-a-lure. Did he see all these girls’ boobies?” Birdie looked up at her, her inquisitive eyes enormous behind her thick glasses.

“I don’t think so.” But she couldn’t say for sure. Toni stood on tiptoe and tried waving to catch his attention.

Logan smiled when he spotted them standing at the edge of the gathered crowd. He easily meandered his way to her side.

“There are my girls.” He moved to stand between them and settled one arm around Toni’s waist and his other across Birdie’s shoulders.

“You already have enough girls,” Birdie said.

“A man can never have too many girls.”

Toni’s scowl didn’t lessen even when he kissed her temple.

“Are you ready to head back to the hotel?” he asked in her ear.

She’d been ready to jump his bones, but now she was plain grumpy.

“You were jumping so high!” Birdie said. “And then you did a flip and flew like Superman with your feet out. Was it fun?”

“Very fun.” Logan tugged at one of Birdie’s pigtails.

“Can I try it?”

Logan glanced at Toni, and she gave him a definitely not shake of her head.

“Maybe when you’re older,” he said. “These bikes are for grownups.”

“Do they have loud bikes for kids?”

Logan looked to Toni for assistance, but she was still irritated about his entourage of dirt-bike groupies, so she let him struggle for his own answer.

“I almost forgot,” he said, unzipping a pocket in his race pants and pulling out a small brown paper bag. “I got something for you and your sister at the gift shop.”

Birdie was immediately distracted. “What is it?”

“I’ll give it to you in the car.”

“Let’s go, Toni!” Birdie grabbed Toni’s hand and jerked her in the direction of the entrance. She’d apparently already given up on the idea of a kid-sized loud bike.

Birdie bounced up and down in the limo as she waited for Logan and Toni to settle in the seat. “What is it? What is it?”

“It’s nothing huge,” Logan said.

He reached into the sack and pulled out a pair of gaudy orange and purple race socks. He pulled them apart and handed one to Birdie. “One for you.” And then he put the mate on Toni’s lap. “And one for you.” He retrieved a second pair of socks—baby blue and lime green—and divvied them up between the sisters.

“New socks!” Birdie yelled as if she’d just gotten her own rainbow-farting pony. “Oh, thank you, Logan!”

He grunted in surprise when he got the Birdie tackle-hug treatment and only hesitated a second before hugging her back. “You’re most welcome.”