Page 4 of One Night Collision

Chapter

Three

Damien

"I'm telling you, stop trying to make Maggie pay for your fucking repairs. They aren't hers, you and I both know it. You keep fuckin' around with her, and I'll let the head of the permits division in on your little side piece who pushes all of them through." I say the words with a smile on my face, and I know he can hear it in my voice.

"Alright, alright."

"No, not alright. Sign off on not holding her responsible and I'll be out of your hair."

I wait for him, and eventually he groans. "Fuckin' fine, Damien. Send me a DocuSign and I'll get it taken care of."

Exactly what I wanted to hear. "Coming your way. Have it signed in five minutes, or I'll go and file for unlawful eviction."

"No need to be an asshole," he grumbles.

I hang up the call and feel a wave of satisfaction wash over me. It's more than winning; it's knowing that Maggie won't have to worry about this bullshit anymore.

Within two minutes I have the DocuSign in my email, and I'm heading over to Maggie's to let her know all of this has been taken care of.I step out of my office and head to my truck. It'sdirty as fuck after being at the barn last night, but there wasn't time to wash it this morning. It's a short ride over to the other side of town, but it feels like a goddamn victory lap.

Pulling up to her building, I spot her through the window, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the sunlight. I can't help but smile. Maggie is standing in the lobby, her phone cradled to her ear. As I make my way to her door, I can see her expression shift from tense to relieved. She throws open the door before I get close enough to open it.

"Damien, I just got the paperwork. You actually did it," she exclaims, her eyes wide with astonishment and gratitude.

"Of course, I did. Did you have any doubt?" I reply, cocky as fuck. Grinning, she throws her arms around me. The warmth of her embrace is a welcome feeling, one that I've missed more than I’d like to admit. It's been a while since I've been with someone who cared enough to hug me.

Pulling back slightly, she looks up at me, her eyes sparkling. "I honestly can't believe you managed to handle it so quickly. I thought I'd be out on the street by next week."

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just did what needed to be done. No one messes with people who haven't done anything wrong. Besides, I told you I'd handle it."

She laughs, a sound that makes my chest feel light. "I'm really grateful, Damien. I don’t know how to thank you."

“Well, I do have an idea.” I lean closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “How about dinner tonight? On me."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I remember, but there's gonna be a catch, right?"

"No catch. Just dress to travel," I say, my tone teasing yet sincere.

Her brow quirks upward, immediate distrust rolling across her face. "Travel?"

"You'll find out," I respond, enjoying the moment of mystery. There's something thrilling about keeping her guessing, about planning something special for someone who deserves it.

Maggie crosses her arms, tapping her foot on the ground. "Why do I feel like I'm being set up for something?"

I laugh softly, shaking my head. "Come on, Maggie. Trust me a little. I told you that anything around here's not more than a tank of gas."

She rolls her eyes, feigning exasperation. "Alright, alright. Pick me up at seven. But this better not involve eating while skydiving or something equally ridiculous."

"Our adventures aren’t that kind of wild," I assure her. "I don't like heights, and I don't have kids yet, ya know? We're heading to Lexington, if you must know."

We stand there for a moment, the air between us charged with a comforting familiarity and an unspoken promise of more.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “should I assume that dressing to travel means more than just jeans and a T-shirt?”

I give her a conspiratorial nod. "Think a little more... evening casual. Trust me, you’ll look great, and you'll love this place."

Her cheeks flush slightly, and she shakes her head, clearly amused and annoyed by the whole situation. "You know, you’re impossible."

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