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The drive to Ashville was much more comfortable with the addition of winterwear, but they still took it slow, arriving around 9 a.m. After eating a huge egg and pancake breakfast, they found a two-bedroom apartment rental. The owner, who lived right next door, agreed to keep the rental off the books when Bash offered to pay double the regular rate. Once they got the keys and settled in, he suggested they explore the town.
The picturesque town of Ashville was set in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains. It was known for its historic and diverse architecture, art galleries, unique shops, and excellent restaurants. The sky was vivid blue, and the sun provided just enough warmth to make it a perfect crisp fall day for wandering. They walked, bought homemade fudge, picked up souvenirs, lunched at a microbrewery, and praised and criticized artworks as if neither of them knew a thing about it. For a few short hours, they were typical tourists exploring, eating, drinking, laughing, and having fun while a storm brewed around them. When they got back to the apartment, they both took a much-needed afternoon nap.
When Morgan woke up, she decided to do a little online research. Regardless of the destination they decided on, taking the motorcycles was neither comfortable nor practical. They were going to need to find a place to store them. Bash assured her that her Honda Civic would be transported from the lake house back to her home in Georgia by the time she returned. The SUV rental they had left at the mountain cabin was the current worry on her mind. She hoped Bash would help with a solution. Since she only rode her Sportster in the mountains anyway, she could get it out of storage on her next visit.
“Damn. I over-slept,” Bash yawned, lumbering into the living room. He plopped down on the sofa beside her and glanced at his watch. “Shit! It’s almost 4 o’clock.”
“I haven’t been up long either,” she sighed.
He leaned over and snuck a look at her iPhone.
“You are so nosey.”
“I figured you would jerk it away if you didn’t want me to see it. What do we need a storage unit for?”
She frowned. “We? You just assumed it includes both of us.”
“Of course. We’re partners in crime, aren’t we?” He flashed a mischievous grin.
“I guess we are. So, partner, we need to find another means of transportation. There is a storage company in town with climate control that would be perfect for the motorcycles. You can have yours shipped to Chicago at some point. I’ll leave mine in storage until I decide what I want to do with it.”
He twisted his mouth to one side. “You were serious about giving it to me?” She nodded. “It’s too much. I’ll have Gray send you a check.”
Her mouth tensed, and hurt bubbled up as she turned on him. “You will not! If you don’t want it, that’s fine, but don’t insult me by trying to pay me for something that meant a lot to my Pops. Seeing you enjoy it makes me happy.”
His face sobered, and he placed his hand on her arm. “It wasn’t my intent to insult. That bike has got to cost over $30,000, and that doesn’t include all the chrome and extras. That’s a lot of money to be giving away to a man you just met.”
She removed his hand and stood up, glaring down at him with fire in her eyes. “That’s right. You can’t really trust me, can you? I must have some ulterior motive. Angling for something. If you don’t want it, I’ll sell it.”
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “I don’t think any of those things.”
“You didn’t have me investigated?” That caught him by surprise.
“A lot of people want something from me, Morgan. All the time. The background check merely confirmed what I’d already figured out for myself. Now, can we drop this subject? As far as the motorcycle is concerned, I’m worried about taking advantage of you.”
“And you have all the money in the world to buy whatever you want. I’m aware, but I gave it to you because I thought you would appreciate it. Bash, the money doesn’t mean that much to me. What Pops left me won’t change me or my lifestyle. It will only make things easier.”
He reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Then I graciously accept your gift and promise to take good care of … Roxy, did you say?”
She nodded.
“Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Better?”
She felt her face flush and slipped her hand from his. “Better.”
Chapter Twenty
“Fontana.” It was a one-word greeting. Abrupt. No casual friendliness, but then again, Bash hadn’t expected it.
“Sebastian Bartoli. Seems you’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me.”
The phone went silent for a few seconds. Was Fontana caught off guard by his abruptness?
“Mr. Bartoli, thank you for returning my call. I’m quite anxious to meet with you in person, as I’m sure Mr. Lewis has relayed to you. This project is personal to me, and I feel you would be best suited to delivering the results I want.”
“I’m flattered that you are offering me this opportunity, but I am not a nonfiction writer. I’m probably the least qualified person to take on this project,” Bash enthused.
“Obviously, I disagree.” It was said like a man used to getting his way.
