Page 23 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

“C’mon, tell the truth. You’re just messing with me.” She came down the steps. “This isn’t the real place. It was hard enough to believe you kept that relic,” she jerked her thumb at my truck, “but there’s no way an actual millionaire would have a place like this.”

Before I could respond, she pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my God, no. No wonder you’re such a sourpuss all the time. You lost all your money. Gambled it away? Drank it away? Wine, women, and song?”

“You listen to too much country music.”

She flipped me the bird. “Obviously not, because I didn’t mention your dead dog.”

I laughed again, gripping the door to keep from doubling over. God, this was fun. “You haven’t even been inside yet. It could be a palace.”

She yanked open the rickety screen door and turned the knob, only to find the inside door locked. “I thought we were going to Lake George.”

“We’re near the town proper, just on one of the surrounding lakes that feeds into it. Allow me.” I climbed the steps and nudged her out of the way to unlock the door. I flipped on the lights, then stepped back and gestured. “After you.”

She shot me a look full of malice and crossed the threshold. I didn’t immediately follow, enjoying her gasp too much to spoil it by laughing my ass off.

Which I did as soon as I walked inside and found her examining the old fireplace.

“It works,” I said proudly, shutting the door.

“You do not live here.”

“Not most of the year, no. I have a few places, but I definitely do own this one.”

“A few places? Any near here that actually merit a tour?”

“First, you offer to pick up the tab for our next meal. Then you pitch a fit worthy of a trophy girlfriend that my place isn’t a showpiece. Pick a personality, sprite.”

“Uh uh. You calling me by a cutesy nickname isn’t going to keep me from being pissed. You lied to me.”

I crossed my arms and watched her study my space. “Did I now?”

She picked up a tattered throw pillow from the sofa that had seen better days and tossed it at me. I didn’t bother to duck. “You made me come to soften the blow.”

“No, I made you come because you?

??re hot as fuck and it was better than you killing us.”

She stopped stalking around the small space and pointed at me. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Noted.”

“Seriously, this doesn’t make sense. Surely this is more of a liability than a write-off. If someone broke in here, they could get hurt and sue.” She rubbed the toe of her heeled sandal over a floorboard that tilted up at an odd angle. I’d have to fix that when I got time. “This is a death trap.”

“It’s actually not, but thank you for the compliment.”

“I don’t understand.” She sank on the couch, and then made a face and rubbed her ass. She’d obviously hit the flat spot. “First, the old truck—”

“Don’t insult Jenny. She’s not old, she’s vintage.”

“Jenny?” She shook her head. “Wasn’t her name Betty before?”

“No, it was always Jenny. Kerry called it Betty because she thought I’d named it that to get into Jenny MacCorkindale’s pants.”

“Did you?”

I shrugged and turned to go back to the truck to retrieve my backpack and Annette. “Didn’t have to. I’d already gotten in her pants before I got the Bronco.” The screen door slapped shut behind me, nearly drowning out Daisy’s sigh.

But not quite.

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