It had been sheer luck that the heifers had found the weakness in the fence before I'd got around to fixing it.Garrett smirked. "Fine …I've always w...nted to see you bent over the hood of this thing anyway," he patted the XUV, "…your ass splayed wide open in the daylight out in the fields."I grunted in amusement and slid into the driver's seat. I knew Garrett couldn't resist an opportunity to fuck me somewhere new. Responsibilities or not, we always found the time, and Garrett sounded. In one of the periodic attempts to revitalize the east part of the city a deluded chef from Quebec named Henri Laroque with more money than sense had built a lovely restaurant and named it "Chez Henri".His move south had been prompted by his hatred of the cold but it was soon postulated among the locals that the real reason he'd moved was that he'd been chased out for being a shitty cook and a worse businessman. Anyone who'd eaten at Chez Henri was more than likely a supporter of that. More

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