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“Got it.”
They parked out of sight of the road and pulled off their helmets.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I want to have a look around Franklin and find a place to stay. Make sure our biker friends or your mafia boys aren’t a step ahead of us. If nothing sticks out as odd, I’ll be right back to get you.”
“And if there is a problem?” he challenged.
She met his eyes with intensity. “I’ll be back either way. We’ll just have to figure out a plan B.”
He felt the rise of irritation. “I feel like the schoolboy being sent to timeout so he’ll stay out of trouble.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, Bash. My father thinks I’m a guy, so they will be looking for a guy, not a woman. The mafia guys are looking for you, not me. I’ve also been to Franklin numerous times. I’m familiar with the town. That’s why I assumed I would be the logical choice. I meant no offense. Next time, I promise I will discuss it with you. If it makes you feel better, you can go.”
It made sense, and he felt foolish for his bruised ego. “I guess that sounded defensive and unappreciative. It’s the right call, but I would feel better if we talked it over in the future. I’m not completely helpless.”
“I don’t think you are. Again, I apologize. There is a factory on the outskirts of town. I’ll tell you right before we reach it so you can break off and park behind it.”
Morgan left him at the abandoned factory. She was back within 20 minutes.
“Everything appeared normal, so I went ahead and booked us a room. One will draw less attention. It has two queens. Hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine. Are there any shops in town? I hate to complain, but I’m freezing my ass off.”
She chuckled. “Yeah. There’s an outdoor store. Not sure about the selection, but they should have some fleece lined denim and heavier coats. Boots and wool socks, too. We should do that now before they close.”
“Sounds good. Then we can get something hot to drink.” He shifted around, trying to stretch his thighs. “My legs are locking up, and my ass is completely numb. That’s what happens when I get off my exercise routine.”
“Yep. Tomorrow, you’re going to be sore. Me too. I haven’t ridden much this year. Better pick up some Tylenol.”
Chapter Seventeen
The motel room was clean but in desperate need of a renovation. They had a productive shopping trip, finding thermal underclothes, down jackets, thick wool socks, and hiking boots. Morgan felt guilty when Bash paid for her clothes. She preferred to pay her own way, but the only credit card she brought had hit its limit when she rented the SUV in Chattanooga. With her on-hand cash dwindling, she needed to check with her bank to see if her inheritance money had been deposited into her checking account.
Pulling her laptop from her backpack, she sat cross-legged on the bed and turned it on. She checked her emails first. An email from Pops’ lawyer said he forgot to ask her if she wanted to liquidate all the investments. He recommended she leave them with the current investor, who had done well. The investments had all been set up in her name when she was a child, then transferred into an IRA when she began working. The funds from the sale of his business had been added to the investment portfolio. The profits from the house went into her bank account. The information was being FedExed to her address in Dunwoody. How the heck had Pops set up an investment account, and me not know about it? She continued reading until she found an actual dollar amount for the total inheritance—$1,464,739.23. She fell back against the headboard in shock. It couldn’t be right. She leaned back toward the screen, wiped her eyes, and read it again. The same amount stared back at her.
“Everything okay?” Bash asked, startling her.
Lifting her gaze from the screen, she met his belly button just above the top of his black knit boxers. Her eyes widened as they slowly moved up the sinewy muscles of his abs to the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. She felt a blush travel up her neck and spread across her face. Her cheeks burned.
“Holy Moley, Bash! Put some pants on!”
“I have on pants. They’re called boxers.”
“Shorts, maybe?” she suggested.
“Why? I’m going to bed. Don’t bitch. You’re the one who booked one room. All I can say is if you’re offended, don’t look,” he said, popping down beside her to see what she was reading.
She scooched further up to the headboard. “Do you mind?” she asked, grabbing her laptop. He pulled it out of her hands and sat it on his bare legs.
“Not at all. What is this? Wow! And I was worried you didn’t have enough money to buy your clothes,” he laughed.
She punched him in the arm and tried unsuccessfully to get it back. “That’s none of your business. Pops left that to me.”
Bash read the entire email and looked up at her. “It was certainly a successful business. Have you checked your bank account?”
She shook her head and pulled it from his hands. “I was about to before you got all grabby.”
