Page 68 of Not Mine to Rescue

Damn lawyers. I scrambled for a way to win. And I knew one way. “Hey Jim, I have a bet for you.”

“Private gambling is illegal.”

“It’s not for money. See, I bet Molly doesn’t love you like you think she does.”

“Wombat.”

I shushed Honor and doubled down. “And I bet you’re too chicken to test that, so you’re hiding behind your interpretation of the rules to spite your ex.”

His eyes narrowed. I’d struck a nerve or maybe hit the truth. “Molly loves both of us.” His protest bordered on desperate.

“Test it. Bring her out. Let’s see who she chooses.”

If I had to, I’d steal Honor’s dog right from under his nose.

“There’s no need for that,” he scoffed.

That’s right. There was no need for any of this. But Jim was a bully with an ego. And I knew just what buttons to push. “What? You scared to find out?”

Honor’s hand went to my arm. “Can we leave instead?”

“Not without your dog.”

“Of course not. Jim, I’m going inside to get my things and Molly. You can be the better person here and let this go.”

“That’s rich. I am the better person.” He swept his eyes down my clothing and when they lifted, he met my eyes. “Everyone knows that.”

Bait. I glanced at the sky and smiled. Jim was going to lose the Destroyers’ paycheck. I bet that would go down real well with the firm he worked for. When we locked eyes again, I engaged him with a calm animosity. “Are you dissing me, or the whole club when you say that?” Once I had his attention, I glanced at his house number to remind him that yes, I knew where he lived.

“No insult intended. It’s simply the truth.”

Fucker. “Honor? Get your things. I’ll follow you home to make sure you get there safe.”

Instead of leaving, she took the time to fire a shot at her ex. “For clarification, anyone who has to claim they’re the better man certainly isn’t.” Then she kissed my cheek.

Since we were PDA-ing in front of the ex, I gave him something to see. I wrapped my arm around Honor’s waist and pulled her back in for a proper kiss. One that left her a bit breathless and pink. For good measure, I nipped her pouty bottom lip to remind her who was the better man in the sack. Poor Jim-dick didn’t stand a chance there.

Then it was a stare-down while Jim and I froze our nuts off outside.

Jim pointed his nose at my bike. “Don’t you own a car?”

“I’ve got a truck.”

He frowned.

“And a Husky I ride when I want to get frisky.”

His brow crinkled a bit.

“Husqvarna. It’s brand of motorcycle, like my Indian.”

The silence was growing a little too awkward.

“This is a phase.”

Bastard. “This? Do you mean Honor and I having an affair?”

He frowned. “Yes.”