Instead of returning her volley, he rubbed the earring and her lobe gently between his fingers. “Very nice.”

She was about to expire from lust when he let her go. He opened the door and stepped out, then leaned down to peer back in at her. “This car had better be sitting here when I come out.”

She tugged on the purple earring. “I wasn’t going to strand you. Just a quick spin around the block to keep from getting bored.”

“Or not.” He shot her with the old index finger pistol.

She leaned back in the comfortable seat and watched him walk up the path to the front door. A curtain fluttered in a corner window. He pressed the bell and waited. When no one answered, he pressed it again. Still nothing. He rapped on the door with his knuckles. She frowned. Nita Garrison wouldn’t take well to that. Had he forgotten Blue’s arrest four days ago?

He came back down the front steps, but her relief was short-lived because, instead of giving up, he took off around the side of the house. Just because Nita was elderly and female, he thought he could badger her. She’d probably already summoned her private police force. Garrison wasn’t Chicago. Garrison was the stuff of Yankee nightmares, a small southern town with its own set of rules. Dean would end up in jail, and Blue would never get her dinner. She was struck by an equally alarming thought. They’d impound his beautiful car.

She jumped out. If she didn’t stop him, the Vanquish would end up in one of those police auctions. He was so used to his famous name unlocking every door that he thought he was invincible. He’d completely underestimated this woman’s authority.

She followed a brick path around the side of the house and found him peering in a window. “Don’t do that!”

“She’s in there,” he said. “I can smell the brimstone.”

“Clearly, she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Tough. I want to talk to her.” He took off around the corner. Gritting her teeth, she headed after him.

A square patch of manicured grass and a row of rigidly clipped shrubs grew in front of the garage, which was made of the same tan stone as the house. Not a flower in sight, just an empty concrete birdbath. Ignoring her protests, he walked up a set of four steps to the back door, which sat under a short overhang supported by the same carved brackets that ornamented the eaves. As he turned the knob and pushed open the door, Blue started hissing like a wet cat. “Nita Garrison’s going to call the police on you! Give me your wallet before you’re arrested.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “What do you want with my wallet?”

“Dinner.”