"What's going on here?" demanded a voice behind her.

Sage didn't bother to turn around. Her eyes were fixed on the chocolate bar, held captive between a jumbo bag of Cheetos cheese puffs and a can of roasted peanuts.

"Do I need to get security?"

Now the man had her attention. Sage tossed a look over her shoulder and quickly regarded the taller-than-average brother. He was a giant of a man. Built like an NFL linebacker, but without the jiggly beer belly and menacing stare, he had extrawide shoulders, ripped forearms and a pair of strong, sturdy legs. Staggered by his height, but not the least bit intimidated by his brisk tone, she expelled a breath. "This machine sucks," she told him, sweeping her bangs off her forehead. "If I had matches, I'd torch it."

"Ever stop to think that maybe it's the customer and not the product?"

"No, because it robbed a six-year-old of his allowance five minutes ago."

His furious scowl matched the heat in his eyes. "You're acting like a deranged psycho, and I'm supposed to believe you? Are you on medication or something?"

Sage was a mature, cultured, twenty-eight-year-old woman, but she felt like smacking the man hard upside the head. Hot with anger, she scrutinized the burly stranger with the aggressive wide-legged stance. His plaid shirt should be in a box on it