Real Good Man

by Meghan March

  “Shit. It’s been at the bowling alley all night. Do you think someone stole it?” I ask, panic creeping in. A stolen rental car would not be cool, especially when it was rented for me as a favor.

  Logan’s smile turns playful. “This is Gold Haven. No one could steal a rental car and get away with it. It’s fine.” He leans down another three inches and brushes his lips over mine. “G’morning, Bruce.”

  “G’morning, Logan,” I murmur as I return the kiss and chase his lips upward when they lift away. But I can’t reach them for long because he heaves himself to the side and stands.

  Clad in only boxer briefs, Logan’s body is impressive. A light dusting of hair sprinkles over his pecs and trails down over his abs and navel to disappear under the waistband. What is it about a man with a hard body? Why are my panties predisposed to drop?

  He winks before he turns and heads to the bathroom, and my greedy eyes are fixed on his ass. I don’t know what he does to keep his body in that kind of shape, but I fully support it.

  I haul my ass out of bed too. My cami and jeans both stink like bowling alley smoke, and I can’t stomach the thought of putting them back on. I sniff the ends of my hair and grimace as I hear the shower turn on.

  Maybe he wouldn’t mind having some company. As many one-night stands as I’ve had, I’ve never done the couple-shower thing. Apparently there are still some areas where I’m a virgin.

  I slip out of the T-shirt I borrowed last night without permission and head for the bathroom.

  Logan is inside the glass-walled shower, soaping up when his eyes find mine. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

  I glance at the mirror and freeze before I take another step. “Holy Jesus, why didn’t you tell me I looked like I belonged on The Walking Dead?”

  My makeup is smudged beneath my eyes, giving me that near-death appearance, and my hair looks like it went one-on-one against the zombie apocalypse and lost.

  Logan’s laughter echoes in the glass enclosure. “And yet you’re still sexy as hell. Get your ass in here.”

  “You have more showerheads in here than I did in mine.”

  “I doubt New York water pressure could handle more.”

  “Fair point.”

  My hair is soaked in moments, and I’m sure I now look like a drowned rat. “This isn’t a shower, it’s a freaking car wash,” I say, turning away from the spray.

  Logan hands me a bar of soap. “I don’t have any girly shit for you to use, but I’ve got soap and shampoo and face wash, if you don’t mind smelling like me. Well, me without the exhaust, brake fluid, grease, and oil.”

  He’s mentioned that more than once, and I wonder if it bothers him. “If you could bottle how you smell when you step out of that garage after working for a day, you’d be a millionaire,” I tell him with complete sincerity.

  “Is that right?” Logan turns me to face him as he pushes my wet hair out of my face.

  I nod.

  “Then I’m glad you like it.”

  When our lips meet, I swallow his laughter.

  His hands start on my shoulders, but they don’t stay there. Logan’s wide palms skim down my back until he’s cupping my ass and sliding one hand between my cheeks.

  I jump as his fingers brush over a particularly sensitive spot—also known as my asshole. I pull my head back and look at him. “You trying to give me the shocker?”

  Logan’s blue eyes are lazy when they meet mine. “The shocker?”

  “When you slip two fingers in a girl’s pussy and then shock her with one in the back door.”

  His fingertips trail over my asshole again, this time adding pressure. “Is that what you’re hoping I’m going to do with this tight little ass?”

  A moan escapes my lips as I rise up on my toes, not sure if I want to escape the pressure or push into it.

  He follows my movements. “I’m not going to stop playing until you answer me.”

  “Maybe I’ll never answer.”

  “Naughty little thing.” Logan’s touch falls away from my ass, but returns with a hand on each of my hips to spin me around to face the back of the shower. “Bend over.”

  “What?” I sputter, but he’s already guiding my hands down to the inset bench in front of me.

  “You’re naked, that means you like when I take control, and I think I can spare a little time to dirty us both up before we get clean.”

  There’s something about his words in that deep drawl that has wetness dripping between my legs, and I know it has nothing to do with the water spraying from the multiple showerheads.

  “What do you mean?”

  His hard shaft slides between the globes of my ass, and I freeze.

  Oh my God, he’s not going to . . .

  “I’m gonna fit my cock inside that pretty ass of yours, but not yet. No, you’re gonna have to be a really naughty fucking girl for me first.”

  Logan adjusts his position to press his cock between my legs, but his thumb hovers right over my asshole as he moves in and out, dragging through my wetness.

  “How could I possibly be that naughty?” My teasing words come out on a ragged breath as my nipples tighten.

  “Oh, I don’t know . . . probably bending over and sticking that ass out, maybe reaching back and spreading your cheeks wide for me. Letting me eat that cunt and that ass until you’re dripping. Then I might find some lube and see if I can fit a finger in that tight little hole. If you’re really bad, I might have to spank you first.”

  Now I’m squirming in place, squeezing my thighs together, wishing he was doing everything he’s saying.

  I’m seconds away from reaching back and spreading my cheeks when the head of his cock nudges inside my pussy.

  “But not right now. Right now, you get just the tip. You think we can get you off this way? My dirty fantasies making you so wet, you’re ready to beg me to do whatever I want to you?”

  I push back, wanting more, when his palm lands on the side of my right ass cheek.

  “Bad girl. You’re only going to get what I give you.” He presses in an inch before retreating. “And nothing more.”

  I moan in frustration but he pushes in again, giving me a few more inches.

  “Just the tip, Banner. Can you get yourself off with just the tip?” He bends down without giving me any more, but his fingers cover my clit. “Or do you need some help?”

  Logan Brantley has some kind of voodoo magic wrapped up in those fingers, because he strums my clit like he’s the master of it.

  When my orgasm begins to break over me, he thrusts inside the rest of the way. I scream, and it echoes as he pulls out before fucking into me over and over, never letting up the pressure on my clit.

  I come again, my inner muscles clamping down on his cock so hard, I’m amazed he can pull it free. But when the hot sticky spurts of come land on my ass, followed by his hand, I know I’m so fucked.

  This man owns my body, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Chapter 33

  Banner

  It takes all the nonchalance I can muster to walk out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, acting like something potentially foundation-rocking didn’t just happen.

  Logan’s casualness comes off much more naturally as he strides over to his dresser and grabs sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. “They might not be designer, but I figure they’re better than putting those smoky ones back on.”

  I take the pile from him and pull them on. They’re big enough to be laughable, but definitely better than the alternative.

  He looks at the clock and curses. “Shit, I really gotta get moving.” His eyes carry regret when he looks at me. “I don’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine.” My interruption is hurried. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Logan studies me and I know he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

  “Next time, you’re making me breakfast, though,” I say, holding my breath after I speak. I’ve officially made it clear that the
re’s going to be a next time, and for me, that’s about as much as I can handle right now.

  “It’s a deal.”

  Logan’s smile is broad as we make our way out of the bedroom toward the front door. We both pause at the sight of my skinny-heeled boots on the mat.

  “This might not be a fashion statement, but they’re all I’ve got.”

  “I’ll grab you a pair of socks and carry you to the car. You can drive home without shoes.”

  With that decided, Logan retreats to grab socks, and then proceeds to carry me to the car once I put them on.

  From the vantage point of his very strong arms, and against his very hard chest—both of which I’m trying like hell to ignore so I don’t cream all over his clean sweatpants—the house is even cuter in the daytime than it was at night. Logan did a hell of a job with it.

  Our ride to the bowling alley is quiet. I know I’m studiously avoiding analyzing what the hell just happened, and he seems to be doing the same. But strangely, the silence isn’t awkward or heavy. It’s . . . comfortable.

  We reach the bowling alley a few minutes later to find only three cars in the parking lot, including my rental. Logan pulls up next to mine. A red car is a few spaces away, parked with its front end toward us.

  “Is that guy asleep in the front seat?”

  Logan is out of the truck and running toward the car before I can open my door. He bangs on the window and yells at the guy inside, but there’s no movement that I can see from here.

  “Jeff, open this fucking door. Wake the fuck up.”

  When there’s still no response, Logan runs back to the truck, but bypasses the cab in favor of the bed. He’s got some kind of bar in his hand, and I shrink back as he shatters the back window of the car.

  Oh shit. This isn’t good.

  I grab my phone instinctively before I jump out of the truck. The sharp gravel stings the soles of my feet as I run toward Logan.

  Somehow he already unlocked the driver’s side door and has it open when he yells to me.

  “Call 911! We need an ambulance right now.”

  Heart hammering and hand shaking, I do as he says, offering up the limited information I have to the operator. She keeps asking questions, but I answer most of them the same way—I don’t know.

  Logan pulls the man out of the car to lay on the ground before performing CPR like a seasoned pro.

  “Any pulse?” I ask, because the operator keeps asking me.

  Logan shakes his head, and I relay the information.

  “They’re on their way.”

  He continues compressions until I can tell he’s tiring. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but it can’t be rocket science. I shove the phone in my pocket and drop to my knees on the ground beside him.

  “My turn.”

  Logan nods, and I take over.

  We switch back and forth for the longest minutes of my life. Sweat is dripping down both our faces, but I’m terrified it’s a lost cause.

  When the EMTs arrive, siren blaring, we move out of the way.

  One EMT looks up at Logan as he checks for a pulse. “It’s there. It’s thready and easy to miss, but it’s there. You might’ve just saved this guy’s life.”

  Logan nods and steps away. “Good, because he used to be my stepbrother.”

  His admission echoes in my brain, and I struggle to comprehend it.

  Logan comes back to where I’m standing in front of his truck, out of the way of the paramedics, and presses both hands to the hood beside me. His head drops forward as he sucks in long, deep breaths.

  “Are you okay?” It’s the dumbest question in the world, but I have no idea what else to say.

  He lifts his head and looks at me. “I figured one day he’d turn up dead from an overdose. I just never figured I’d have a front-row seat to it.”

  I lay a hand on his shoulder. “You heard the EMT; you might’ve just saved his life.”

  “We, not me. And that’s if he makes it. Not that he’d thank us for doing a damn thing.”

  It seems there’s no love lost between Logan and his former stepbrother.

  “I can follow you to the hospital and—”

  Logan shakes his head. “I’m too fucking pissed to go anywhere near him right now. There’s nothing I can say that Jeff would want to hear.”

  “Then we could—”

  “I gotta call Jeff’s uncle. Only family he’s got left after his dad passed.” Logan straightens. “If he pulls through, maybe Duane can finally get him into rehab. He’s a pastor, so maybe he could pull some strings somewhere.” Logan slams his hand against the metal hood, and I can feel his body shaking beside me. “Fucking Jeff,” he murmurs.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” He pushes off the hood and faces me. “Really fucking sorry this morning turned to shit.” Logan’s breathing evens out, but the lines around his eyes show the evidence of strain.

  “It’s not your fault. You jumped in there and did everything you could to save him. That’s . . . amazing.”

  He leans in and presses his lips to mine. “I’m glad you think so, but anyone would’ve done the same thing. Now I gotta make some calls and get some people praying he’ll pull through.”

  I touch my forehead to his. We’re both sweaty, but I don’t care. “You know what, Logan Brantley? You’re a good man. He’s lucky you were here. And you’re wrong. Not just anyone would’ve done what you did.”

  “You were right there next to me, Bruce.” He releases a long breath. “You gonna be okay? You want to come along with me?”

  Logan’s offer is sincere, but all my instincts say he needs some time alone to process what just happened.

  “I should head home.”

  He pulls me against his chest and squeezes me tight for long moments before lifting me off my feet and carrying me to the rental car.

  “I’m sorry, Banner.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

  I click the remote to unlock it, and Logan pulls open the door before lowering me inside.

  “I’ll grab your boots.”

  “Thank you.”

  I rest my head on the steering wheel as my entire body shakes with the aftermath of what just happened.

  Life is short. Shorter for some than for others, so we have to make every moment count.

  Chapter 34

  Logan

  Fucking Jeff. What I told Banner was the truth—I always figured he’d end up OD’ing on whatever the fuck he poisoned himself with. If I had to guess now, I’d say meth.

  I’m finally finishing up the last touches on the engine of the Mustang, thankfully with the help of both Jock and Rick today, because my head is not where it needs to be.

  Rick turns down the music. “We got company.” He jerks his chin toward the service door as one Officer Cody Reeves walks inside.

  “You got a minute, Logan? I need to get a statement from you.”

  I’ve called the hospital twice to check on Jeff, and he’s still hanging on, so I know Cody isn’t here to notify me of his passing.

  I pull my rag from my back pocket and tell Jock, “Finish this up, and then wipe it all down and make it goddamn shine.”

  “No problem, boss.”

  I head for the waiting room, and Cody follows me. There’s still some coffee hanging out in the last pot that I brewed, so I pour us each a cup.

  “It tastes like tar, but it can’t be much different from what you’re used to.”

  “Much appreciated.” He takes the cup from my hand and grabs three packets of sugar out of the coffee can that holds all our extra shit for waiting customers.

  “You here about Jeff?”

  He nods. “Sure am.”

  “I don’t have a lot to tell you.”

  “How about you start at the beginning.”

  “I pulled into the parking lot at Brews and saw his car. He looked like he was passed out in the driver’s seat, and something about it struck me a
s off.”

  “What were you doing at Brews at eight o’clock this morning?”

  The rest of the town probably already knew by now, and I was over worrying about gossip concerning me and Banner. “Bringing a woman back to her car.”

  “Banner Regent?”

  I shoot him a hard look. “Why are you asking me questions you already know the answers to? Isn’t this a waste of both our time?”

  “It’s procedure.”

  I look down at my coffee and take a breath. My patience is for shit today. “Yeah, Banner Regent. She spent last night at my house after we left Brews. I brought her back to get her car this morning so I could get to the shop early, but that didn’t end up happening because my ex-stepbrother was in the process of OD’ing in the parking lot, and I had to give his rotted-ass meth mouth CPR so he didn’t die.” I meet Cody’s gaze and see the sympathy there.

  “How do you know he was OD’ing?”

  “Educated guess.”

  “When’s the last time you saw Jeff before this morning?”

  Tipping my head back, I focus on a water spot on the ceiling tile above me. Absently, I remind myself to replace it because it looks like shit.

  “The last time I saw him? Probably a few months ago in passing. I’ve seen his car around, but not him.”

  “What about the last time you talked to him?”

  I look up at the ceiling again and think back. “A while.”

  “Exactly how long? And did you argue?”

  I jerk my gaze back to Cody’s. “Really? Is this important?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking the question if I didn’t need an answer.”

  “Our parents were married for all of six months before his dad ended up in prison for possession while I was still in school, but you know all that. Jeff Senior caught a shank and bled out, and no one was sad to see him go.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “I told Jeff to go fuck himself the last time he came knocking. I’d just bought this place and was in a ton of debt, and he wanted money. He looked like shit, and I knew whatever I gave him would go straight to his dealer, so I told him if he ever stepped through my doorway again, I’d beat the hell out of him.”

  Cody nods like he finally has an explanation that satisfies him. “I wouldn’t tell anyone else this, but I’ve known you way too fucking long not to. Jeff was dealing, and he was doing a shit job of keeping it on the DL, too busy using a ton of his own product. He’s been under surveillance for weeks because we’re trying to get a lock on exactly who he’s buying from so we can bust the bigger fish. He’s the bottom of the food chain, and we planned to take him down this week and get him to inform for us in exchange for a lesser sentence.”