“Good girl. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Sir.”

  At least that was one lecture off his plate. He knew she didn’t want to shop for a new car, and now she had no choice. At least he didn’t have to play the bad guy and sternly order her to do it, because he knew she’d been putting it off.

  He groaned as he forced himself to sit up on the edge of the bed, feeling every ache and pain in his body.

  I’m really getting too old for this shit.

  As he dragged himself into a reasonably vertical position, he snagged his work phone off the nightstand to take both phones into the bathroom with him. He had work to focus on today if he wanted to get home to Shayla sooner. At least no one was hurt, insurance would total out the Civic, and he wouldn’t have to engage mean-Dom mode on Shayla to pick out a new car.

  The Universe works in funny ways.

  Chapter Two

  Fortunately, Shayla didn’t have to call an Uber. When she checked in with the office to see if someone could go cover the meeting for her until she could get there, one of her coworkers volunteered to do it. Also, another coworker, her friend, Suzanne, offered to come pick Shayla up and run her home. Which, considering their office was only five minutes away, would likely be a lot faster—and cheaper—than an Uber.

  Shayla was able to get a garbage bag from the coffeeshop and used it to pack what little she had in her car. The responding deputy took down all her information for the accident report and gave her a case number for her insurance claim, which she’d already started via her phone app. As she removed the Civic’s key from her keyring to hand to the wrecker driver, she fought the urge to burst into tears.

  This really was good-bye, because, yeah, the insurance company would likely total it out.

  The wrecker driver even removed the license plate from the back for her, which only cemented Shayla’s maudlin mood as she tucked it into the garbage bag with everything else from inside the car.

  As Suzanne drove her home, Shayla fought the urge to grumble. “I did not need this today. Thanks, again, for the ride.”

  “No worries. Did you call Tony already?”

  “Yeah. I think he’s not-so-secretly happy about it. He’s been bugging me to go car shopping for an SUV. In his words, one at least as big as his. He’s always disliked my Civic. Said it’s too small.”

  Suzanne snorted. “That sounds like your hubby. He is protective.”

  “I don’t know why I’ve been fighting him on this. I mean, I know he’s right. We can afford it. I just didn’t want to spend the money when mine was perfectly fine.”

  “Because that car was a symbol of your freedom. Of reaching adulthood. Hell, of survival. Especially after everything you endured with your ex. Doesn’t take a headshrinker to figure that out.”

  “True. I didn’t think about it like that.”

  “I mean, you strike me as a very rational person,” Suzanne said. “But it’s not just about being smart with your money. The first car purchase is always a big deal emotionally. I know it was for me.”

  When Shayla reached home, she had to retrieve her keys for Tony’s SUV from the bedroom before she could head to work.

  Again.

  As she adjusted the seat and mirrors and steering wheel, she realized she hadn’t driven the SUV in a couple of weeks, at least. He’d asked her to drive it, but her car was usually closest to the front door, and she was used to driving hers, plus it didn’t feel right driving it when he wasn’t home.

  It reminded her too much of how long it’d been since she’d seen him. She hadn’t driven it in over three weeks.

  In fact, it’d been a lot longer than that since she’d driven it, at least before the last time Tony had been home. The last person to drive it had been Tony, while he was home a few weeks ago.

  She sucked in a ragged breath and struggled against the sudden onslaught of tears threatening to spill.

  Damn, I miss him so much.

  Except she didn’t have time to sit there right now and throw herself a pity party.

  Now she was running nearly an hour behind. Although by the time she was almost to the county admin center, she had to admit she did enjoy driving Tony’s SUV. The CRV was a mid-sized vehicle, not a huge, honking penis replacement. Just large enough they could put the back seat down and tote a spanking bench to a private Suncoast Society party.

  Why’ve I been fighting him on this?

  It was nice not to feel like she might get run over by drivers not paying attention. She could see better, too, sitting up higher.

  Okay, maybe he’s got a valid point.

  She reached the county admin building and found a parking spot before hurrying inside. When she quietly slid into the seat next to Michael, her coworker, he handed her a sheet of notes on lined yellow paper and leaned in close so he could whisper to her.

  “Next time I volunteer to cover one of these for you, do me a favor and kill me first, huh?” But he smiled.

  She winced. “Sorry. I know it’s boring.” She was one of the few people in her office who genuinely enjoyed these things.

  “Well, at least it’s being televised. They said the video will be up about an hour after the meeting ends, so you can watch what you missed in case my notes aren’t any good. Hopefully I didn’t miss anything important.”

  Relief filled her. Sometimes it was hit-or-miss with the county’s IT department on how long it took meetings that appeared on their county local access channel to be archived and viewable online after the fact.

  “Thanks!”

  As he packed his stuff, she pulled out her laptop and settled in to take notes. It amazed her that she really had learned a lot covering all these meetings. Dry organizational and scientific language she wouldn’t have understood a year ago now made sense to her.

  By the time the meeting ended a little after one p.m., her stomach was growling and she felt like she needed a caffeine IV. She grabbed herself a sandwich from a shop around the corner from her building and carried it upstairs to the offices of Sunshine Attitude Magazine.

  As she headed to her desk, her boss intercepted her and followed. “Heard you had an exciting morning.”

  Bill Melling was a nice guy, and the publisher and EIC of the magazine, as well as helped keep the company’s other divisions going.

  “Yeah, that’s one word for it,” she groused. She dumped her stuff on her desk.

  “How do you feel about doing a series of articles about senior drivers?”

  She turned. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Stats, family impact of losing a license, all of that.”

  “We haven’t done that one yet?”

  “Nope.” He handed her a piece of paper that he’d been carrying. “I already looked up the driver. He’s eighty-six, and this is his fourth ticket in two years.” He smiled. “Enjoy.” He returned to his own office.

  Well, shit.

  She stared at the paper, which listed the case numbers and dates of the incidents. The first thing she’d do would be to forward this information to Ed Payne, their attorney and a friend in common from the Suncoast Society.

  But, yeah, come to think of it, it would be a good substantive series of articles.

  Already, her mind was working on it, how she could break the series into segments, people she could talk to. She’d already shiny squirreled into making a project list when she realized she needed to get the info Bill had given her to Ed.

  With her phone, she used her scanner app to save the info into a .pdf, added another scan of the accident report and case number, and a screenshot of her insurance card, and queued an e-mail to Ed.

  Per our call I’m about to make to you.

  Shayla

  She sent the e-mail, then looked up Ed’s number in her contacts.

  Ed was laughing as he answered. “I already had a chat with your owner this morning,” he playfully teased. She assumed from that comment it meant he was alone, or at least in private.

  “Tony called you?” she asked.

  “Yep. Said you’d be calling me.”

  “I just sent you an e-mail with more information.” She told him the summation, and humor disappeared from his tone, the serious lawyer back in the house.

  “Okay, I’ll get on that today. Sounds like we have grounds for a lawsuit.”

  Guilt flashed through her. “I’m not sure I want to sue them. I just want to go after their insurance.”

  “Shay, the man’s dangerous. He needs to lose his license. If he’d put it into drive instead of reverse and done that, he could’ve plowed into the building and killed or injured you or any number of people.”

  She shuddered. “Then let’s look at that as our goal,” she said. “Him losing his license. We want a fair payout, and we want him to voluntarily surrender his license. I don’t want to soak them for this. It wasn’t like I was hurt, and it was an older car. I just don’t want him or anyone else to get hurt.”

  He sighed. “That’s…fair and reasonable, I suppose.”

  “Why do you sound disappointed?”

  “Because I could probably get you a lot of money.”

  “I don’t want a lot of money, Ed. I just want what’s fair, and for him to stop driving. Make their kids teach them about Uber and Lyft, if they don’t want to chauffeur them around.”

  “Fair point. I’ll get started on this for you.”

  “Thanks.” She ended the call and sat back in her chair as she stared at her rapidly growing list.

  Insurance costs.

  There had to be a way to find out how many accidents and auto insurance claims were due to elderly drivers.

  Although she had a feeling that, considering the snowbird-heavy population of the Sarasota area, this series of articles might be even more of a lightning rod than the series she wrote on BDSM that led her to meeting Tony in the first place.

  * * * *

  “Is she okay?” Mike asked Tony over breakfast downstairs in their hotel. Tony had just related the story to Mike.

  “Yeah. She’s lucky.”

  “Bet you’re looking forward to that road trip you’ll take with your new car,” Mike teased.

  “I’m looking forward to getting home, period.”

  Mike’s smile faded. “How’s your back and shoulder?”

  “I’ll live.” Tony stretched, wincing. “I just won’t enjoy it very much.”

  “I’m willing to bust some ass to get us home by the weekend,” Mike said. “I’m missing my own bed. Don’t expect to see us at a munch or the club for a few weeks.”

  Tony took a sip of coffee. “I’d say the same, except I have a lot of irritation to burn off, and the last time Shayla and I were at Venture, it was more than a little bit of a clusterfuck. I need a do-over.”

  Which was an understatement. It was the weekend of his ex-wife’s funeral, and he had to throw out a new member who violated their rules and got mouthy with him and another volunteer…

  Said new member who apparently had been drinking in secret, and then walked out into traffic and got herself killed just outside the club.

  He didn’t learn that part until later. But it triggered an accident that knocked out the club’s power, and interrupted his play with Shayla.

  “I heard about that,” Mike said. “Glad we weren’t there that night.”

  The nice thing about having Mike there in Colorado with him was that, for starters, Mike had no interest in edibles—unlike the previous guy, who Tony had to fire, which put him even farther behind on their timeline.

  The second nice thing was that Mike was a friend in common and a member of the Suncoast Society.

  That meant at least Tony had a true friend to talk to while stuck out there. One he didn’t need to censor himself with when talking to Shayla on the phone, or watch what he said around him. One he could share inside jokes with and relax while they worked.

  They finished breakfast and headed for the data center. Tony hoped the worst of the physical part of this install was behind them. In theory, it was.

  But he’d learned to never take anything for granted. The more excited he felt about the prospect of actually being on track to get the hell out of there, the more he reined himself in.

  Don’t want to freaking jinx us.

  As the day progressed they methodically worked through all the servers with the diagnostics software, in preparation for the new crew arriving tomorrow.

  So far, so good.

  By nine o’clock that night, they’d gone through all the servers and were breathing a sigh of relief. The next part would begin in the morning, when the new crew arrived to get started. As they stood in the entrance to the server room, Tony held up his hand to Mike for a high-five.

  “Home stretch,” Mike said.

  “God, I hope so,” Tony said. “I miss Florida.”

  “I haven’t even been here a fraction as long as you have, and I miss Florida. I can only imagine how excited you’ll be to get home.”

  “You have nooo idea,” Tony told him.

  Chapter Three

  By Tuesday afternoon, Shayla had to admit she enjoyed driving Tony’s SUV. She stopped at two car dealerships on her way home, Ford and Honda, just to look around.

  Which reminded her the other reason she hated shopping for cars—the salesmen.

  Wednesday she looked at Toyotas and Nissans. By Thursday, she knew one thing for certain—Car shopping sucks balls.

  She hadn’t bugged Tony about whether or not he was returning on Friday, but she suspected he wouldn’t be or he would’ve told her already. She was perusing local car listings on her laptop when he called her Thursday evening.

  “Hello, Sir.”

  “Hello, pet.” She hated how exhausted he sounded. “Well, do you want the good news, or the bad news?”

  Her heart sank. “Bad news, Sir.”

  “I won’t be home tomorrow night.”

  She’d already suspected that, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. “And the good news?”

  “I’ll be home Saturday morning.” She heard the smile in his voice and realized the sadist had played her again.

  The squeal escaped, making him laugh. “Saturday? For good?”

  “For good, pet. I’ll send you the flight info tomorrow. Have you decided on a new car yet?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What?”

  “A good, gently used Honda CRV, blue. One owner.”

  He hesitated. “Another CRV? The same color blue as mine, or a different blue?”

  “Um, not exactly.”

  “Peeeet?”

  She finally admitted it. “Can I just have the CRV and we buy you a new car? Pleeeease, Sir?”

  * * * *

  Eyes closed, Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and fought the urge to groan. Mike was driving them back to the hotel and Tony had used the time to call her. “You don’t want a new car?”

  “I like your car, Sir. It’s yours.”

  He blew out an aggravated breath. “You’ve made up your mind already, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He opened his eyes. He was soooo sick of Denver he could scream. “All right, pet. When you pick us up from the airport on Saturday, make sure you bring the license plate and registration from the Civic with you, the checkbook, and make sure we have the most recent insurance card.”

  “Sir?”

  “We’re buying a damn car. We’ll get a Honda Pilot. I like those, and a friend of mine works at the dealership in Sarasota.”

  “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

  He swallowed back his irritation. “It’s all right, pet. I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Did you say ‘pick us up’?”

  “Yeah. We’re taking Mike home first. I’ll send my friend a text and make sure he’ll be there Saturday and set up an appointment with him. I’m done screwing around, and we have to have two vehicles.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  After chatting for a few more minutes, Tony ended the call while Mike chuckled.

  “She claimed your car, huh?” Mike asked.

  “Yeah. I should’ve seen that one coming.”

  “Well, you never told her she couldn’t have your car, did you?”

  “I told her to go shopping for a new car and pick something out.”

  “Technically, she adhered to the letter of your orders then, dude.”

  Tony snorted. “Damn sneaky slaves. I should order her to wear a butt-plug to pick us up.”

  Mike burst out laughing. “Uh, TMI, buddy.”

  “Sorry.”

  But the more he thought about it, the more that’s exactly what he’d do.

  He opened up the last text thread and sent her a text on his personal cell.

  One more thing, pet. When you pick us up Saturday, there’d better be a butt-plug in that gorgeous ass of yours.

  When his phone vibrated with an incoming phone call a moment later, he was a little worried when he saw it was Ross. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  Ross was laughing so hard he could barely talk. “Dude, I love you, but not like that. I’m not your pet, what’s this about picking you up Saturday, and I’m not wearing a butt-plug for you. And thank you for calling my ass gorgeous.”

  “Wha—oh, shit!”

  Ross laughed even harder, and Tony heard Loren laughing in the background.

  The last text Tony had sent had been to Ross in response to a question from him about the next party.

  “Man, I’m really sorry,” Tony said.

  “No,” Ross said, still snorting, “it’s all right. I just thought you might want to know you didn’t text the right person with that. As Seth used to say, I love you, but I ain’t doin’ ya.”

  Tony caught Mike’s confused glance and was happy at least this misstep on his part would provide their friends with a lot of laughs as the story made its way through their Suncoast Society munch group’s ranks.

  “Yeah, no,” Tony said. “Not doin’ you, either, Ross. Sorry, again.”

  “No worries. You change your residence to Colorado yet or…”