Page 100 of The Thief

She jogged down the steps and headed toward the well. “All I know is when I go in there later, I better not see your mess on the floor! Naughty boys get punished.”

Lakota growled sexily. “I love it when she’s fired up.”

“Why would you provoke her like that?”

Lakota folded his arms on the flat railing and watched her flounce off. “The sex is always hotter. A word of advice: never go to bed angry. Work out your disagreements verbally or otherwise.” He turned to face me. “Are you coming?”

“Where?”

When Lakota went inside, I followed him through the house to the front door.

Descending the porch steps, I passed by a clay pot of white vincas. The leggy stems bobbed when I brushed by them.

“Get the hell off my truck!” Lakota boomed. “I just got it fixed.”

Virgil was doing a handstand on the roof of Lakota’s black pickup. We kept the vehicles parked horizontally so they faced the field where we planned to build a garage.

“Nobody can see a dent in the hood,” Virgil called back, his shirt riding up to his neck.

“There better not be a dent,” Lakota griped.

Virgil finally climbed down and gave me an elfin smile, dark-blond hair tangled around his face. His Introvert T-shirt was twisted around his middle, and he made no attempt to straighten himself out.

“Where’s everyone else?” I asked, noticing all the cars were accounted for.

“We’re rotating guard duty.” Lakota slowed his pace when we reached the trucks. “Catcher and Salem are watching the property. Bear’s down by the road, and I’m not sure where Joy and Archer went. Hey!” He clapped his hands at the white truck. “Mercy’s here.”

Montana, Robyn, and Hope popped up from the opposite side as if we’d caught them in the act.

Rounding the back end, I gasped with surprise.

It was Daisy, my Vespa. I’d imagined her a crumpled piece of metal on the side of the road after the hard hits she took going off-road, but instead, she was shiny and new like off the showroom floor.

Surrounded by cleaning supplies, Robyn and Hope were holding rags with excited looks on their faces.

Montana set a bottle of motor oil down at his feet and tipped his hat at me. “Like new” was all he said.

I circled my bike. Is this really mine? It can’t be.

“But how?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Calvin picked it up after the accident. This is what it looked like when we got it back. He said a guy owed him, and he did all the repairs and fixed the paint.”

“In two days? How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Hope replied.

Robyn flipped the rag over her shoulder. “Calvin did all the labor. All we did was bring her home and wipe off the oily fingerprints and dirt.”

Virgil reached into the back of the truck. “We couldn’t find your helmet, so we got you this. Ta-da!”

He handed me a shiny new helmet.

“This one’s blue,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “Not white like your other one.”

I turned it in my hand and admired the white daisies painted on it.

“I tried,” Robyn said. “But you’re the painter.”

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