Page 95 of Not Mine to Rescue

“I really should be driving.” She eyed me nervously as I acclimated to the controls and mirror placement.

“You can drive us home.”

“But you’re not on my insurance.”

“I’ll baby it.”

Maybe that wasn’t the best word to use, considering what was hanging between us, but I wasn’t going to walk it back. She’d have to get used to hearing it sooner or later.

Hopefully.

With that, and more bravado than brains, I piloted one of the smoothest rides I’d ever experienced. It was an ego boost to pull up to the prospect manning the gate, roll down the power window and say. “Yo. Open the gate.”

“Nice ride, did you steal it?”

Honor cleared her throat from the passenger side.

I stuck a thumb in her direction. “Didn’t have to. I already stole the girl.”

Speck leaned in the window to give her the once-over. “Hey, Pretty Mama.”

She shot me a look that was half glare and half disbelief.

I grinned back because he’d just complimented her. But I could feel he was about to say something that would piss her off. “Stop gaping at my woman. Open the gate.”

“Yours? Hardly.”

“No one asked you for your opinion, ’speck.”

He had enough brains to step back and unlock the chain to let us in. We really needed a stronger deterrent than that. But Walt believed that the simpler the blockade, the more it blended in.

Honor scanned the trees as I drove up the sloping path. “Where are we?”

“In primo wine and hunting territory. There are two vineyards about a mile away, and good hunting land all over this ridge.”

“How does the club afford this?”

The truth wouldn’t be a good idea, considering the company. “Rich wives.” At least that was close to true. Walt’s ol’ lady, a former stripper, saved as much as she could during her time on the pole. She’d bought a decent townhouse that went up for sale when she moved in with Walt. That money went toward the down payment on the property here. She handed it over to Walt as a Christmas present a few years ago. The club paid for all the maintenance, upgrades, and the mortgage. By keeping it in her name, we avoided a bunch of questions like Honor’s from bubbling up to the feds.

When the threshing barn came into view, Honor gasped. “That’s a barn.”

“You’re observant.” I smiled at the joke.

The stone walls rose about forty feet from ground to roofline. From there it was at least another eighteen to twenty feet before the gambrels peaked above the treetops. We’d packed in three stories of living into the monster. “Mary bought it at auction from some developers who wanted to convert it into a wedding venue. We did the rest of the upgrades.” I pointed out the dirt bike track as I found a place for her car where it would be watched and not dinged. Then I got out, put on my vest and walked around the car to intercept Honor before she opened her door.

The speck watching the lot craned his head to see who was parking in the reserved section.

“What the fuck, Wombat? Where’d you boost that car from?”

“Why do they always assume you stole it?” Honor asked before I could answer.

“Because I can’t afford it.” I turned to the dickhead with the big mouth, “Mind your business. It’s hers.”

He whistled. “Damn Wombat. She’s better looking than that crazy bitch with the Kia.”

Why did he have to mention Winter? “And you’d be better looking with two black eyes if you can’t keep them off my woman’s tits.”

His gaze didn’t move away. “Ain’t no way she’s your woman.”