Page 22 of One Night Rendezvous

"We all can't be as smart as you, Doogie."

For a few moments, I let him sit on that, let him revel in the fact I just paid him a compliment. For him, it doesn't matter if it was backhanded or not. He's going to take it.

"Guess you can't. Makes sense that my daughter chose you, she's never been the smartest in the room either. It was a bike." He winks, taking a toothpick out of his pocket and sliding it into his mouth.

"A bike? Like a motorcycle?" I play dumb.

"No." He rolls his eyes, losing patience. "Some bitch was on a bicycle in front of me out on a backroad and wouldn't get out of the way. Doesn't she know who I am? I honked three times, and she wouldn't move. So I had to move her." He shrugs. "Which brings me to why I wanted you to do the work. Didn't want you to run to the cops and let them know."

I nod, running my tongue over my teeth. "That's fucked up, man. I never expected you to be that cold-hearted."

"Maybe you're just soft now that you have a kid."

I'm beginning to realize how true that probably is. I reach my hand out. "I'll take that payment, and you can be on your way. Don't come back to me for help. This was a one-time thing, Doogie."

"Do you know how many people have said that to me?" He gives me that smile that makes my skin crawl. "There are a lot of people who've told me that and then for some reason or another, we've had to do work together again."

I sigh heavily, hand him his keys, pocket the money and then head for the back of the garage. As I slip out the back door, I wait for a long, few minutes until I hear Doogie leave. Once he does, I continue to be patient, and around three minutes later, I hear sirens. Not too long afterward, I get a text from Troy telling me they've taken Doogie into custody.

I take my phone out of my pocket and quickly dial Ashley's number. She's at work, but she answers on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"It's done. Troy took him into custody, and I got the confession. If it all sticks, which there's no reason it shouldn't, he'll be going away for a while. You don't have to worry anymore."

She breathes out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Chevy. You didn't have to do that. I'm aware that you put your life and Felicity's in danger. I appreciate it more than you know."

I've never done anything in my life for anyone to thank me, or to be the good guy. I'm typically the guy fucking things up and then having to fix it. This is uncomfortable in more ways than I can explain. "You're welcome. We may not have a future, Ash, and I'm not here to ask you for shit you can't give me, but there isn't much I wouldn't do for you and my daughter, and I just want you to know that."

The silence stretches longer than I like and I'm worried she's hung up. "I like you, Ford. I just need patience."

"You've got all you need. That I can promise."

NINETEEN

Ashley

The store has been extra busy today. Scandal sells. Not like that’s new. Watch a couple episodes of Bridgerton and it’s clear that’s been the case for a long time. And right now, at the center of that shit storm of gossip, it’s me. Being Doogie’s kid has always painted a target on me for a multitude of reasons. Now it’s because everyone wants to ply me with sympathy and get the inside scoop.

“You’re better for business than a TV commercial,” Gina murmurs as she does another cash drop into the safe. “You want overtime this week?”

I could use it. But I also have plans. Big plans. Scary plans. “I wish I could, Gina. But I’m already obligated elsewhere.”

“With a certain mechanic we all know?”

I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

She gives me a knowing smirk. “That’s what I thought,” she continues. “He’s a looker. There’s no denying that. But you need to be careful, Ashley. He’s not the forever kind—and that little girl of his will always come first. That’s not a knock against him, either. She should come first. Unless you’re the kind of woman who’s willing to raise another woman’s kid as her own, there’s no future in that.”

“Are we besties now?”

Gina stiffens. “No. No, we’re not. But as a woman whose relationship is coming apart at the seams, trust me when I tell you that it’s better to not marry at all than to marry and then divorce.”

“No one is talking marriage, Gina. At this point we’re not even dating,” I deny.

She laughs. She actually laughs at me. “Sure you’re not. You keep telling yourself that.”

The line has thinned out. The morning coffee crowd of old men in ball caps and overalls has dissipated. Only a few people are lingering in the store, debating the endlessly plaguing question of salty or sweet when it comes to snacks. “I’ve got it up here if there are things you need to take care of in the office.”

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