Real Good Man (Real Duet #1)

by Meghan March

  The picture I found was clearly not recent, and it’s not just the fact that his brown hair is longer and shaggier. He’s one of those men who age well.

  Logan stops in front of me when he reaches the tall bar table. He says nothing as his gaze drops to the toes of my boots and drags up every inch of my body.

  “You’re a hard woman to find.”

  His accent is absolutely delicious. The deep timbre reaches all the way to the very core of me, and I find myself uncrossing and re-crossing my legs just like the rest of the women in this bar.

  “I gave you the address.” I shoot for casual, and thankfully my voice doesn’t shake.

  “And for a guy with a dually truck and a trailer that had to park God knows where, that address was a challenge.”

  I swear I feel all the blood drain from my face. “Oh crap. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think—”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m here. You’re here.” He holds out his hand. “Logan Brantley. It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Ms. Banner . . .”

  It hits me that through all of our texts, I never told him my last name. “Regent.” I slide my hand into his as he closes his wide fingers around it.

  “Banner Regent,” he says slowly, trying out my name.

  My non-sexy black panties are never going to survive the way it rolls off his tongue in that drawl. All the dirty things I texted him last night are front and center in my mind and my girly parts.

  No. I throw up a mental stop sign.

  While my brain is being pulled in opposite directions, Logan is waiting for me to reply.

  “You’re going to hate tapas,” I blurt out.

  “I don’t even know what tapas is.”

  “We should get out of here.”

  He raises one dark eyebrow. “And go where?”

  My knee-jerk reaction is to take him home and fuck the living hell out of what might be the very first real man I’ve ever met. But that’s not happening.

  Keep your legs closed, Banner.

  “Have you ever been to Times Square?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Never been to New York before today.”

  I smile as I come up with the perfect way to keep myself out of bed with Logan Brantley.

  “Then we better make it memorable.”

  Chapter 9

  Banner

  Isn’t it strange how when you live in a touristy place, you don’t do any of the touristy things until someone comes to visit from out of town? I’ve always been a New Yorker, so unless there’s some specific reason to be there, I avoid Times Square like the plague.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight I need to be farther away from my apartment than this tapas bar, and I need to get whatever is between Logan and me under control before I give in to the urge to climb him. Bad Banner.

  He might think this is a dumb idea, but I can’t think of a less likely place for me to jump this incredibly sexy man’s bones than a giant arcade.

  I flag down a cab, and Logan opens the yellow door. I give directions to the cabbie as I slide in.

  When Logan climbs inside next to me, the back of the taxi shrinks. Not only is Logan Brantley bigger than most guys I’ve shared the back of a cab with, there’s something else. It goes beyond size to presence. Logan Brantley has it in spades, and I’m squeezing my thighs together in an effort to kill the ache that’s building there.

  I have to start talking, or God knows what I’ll let myself do.

  “This might seem unorthodox and probably not what you were expecting, but instead of trying to get into a fancy steak house and waiting hours for a table where you could actually get man food, I made an executive decision to do something completely different.”

  He’s watching me as I ramble, and that intense blue gaze isn’t helping me sound coherent.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “There’s a huge sports bar arcade in Times Square, and I thought it would be fun.”

  He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “I can handle that.” He pauses for a beat. “You don’t seem like the sports bar or arcade type, though.”

  It’s a fair observation, especially since he’s right.

  “I’ve been to plenty of sports bars,” I tell him. “I am a New Yorker, after all, so I’ve got the Mets, Yankees, Giants, Knicks, and Rangers to cheer on.”

  “You like to watch sports?” His tone is more than a little surprised.

  It’s the moment of truth. Do I lie and pretend I’m some kind of real sports fan? Or do I just admit that I only go with friends when we’re drinking and I ignore the game? I’ve never lied to impress a guy before, and I’m not going to start now.

  “Unless someone gets a box at a game, I don’t actually watch any sport. I go for the atmosphere.”

  “Fair enough. I don’t usually have time, but I’ll try to catch a game on TV once in a while.”

  As expected, the cabbie gets stuck in traffic when heading down Seventh Avenue, but Logan keeps the conversation going.

  “What about an arcade? I can’t exactly picture you playing video games.”

  I respond with a shake of my head before elaborating. “Never in my life. But I can play a decent game of pool, and a marginally passable game of foosball.”

  “So this will be an experience for both of us then.” His smile tilts into a smirk. “Might have to make a bet on a game of foosball. I’m more than passable myself.”

  I like the hint of challenge his words carry, and give him a sassy look of my own in return. “Oh, you’re going to get cocky now? Just wait.”

  The cabbie interrupts from the front. “You wanna get out here? It’ll be faster to walk in this mess.”

  “Sure, that’s fine.” I slide a twenty through the glass while Logan is still reaching for his wallet. He opens his mouth to protest, but I wave it off. “You can buy the first tokens.”

  He nods. “I’ll be buying all the tokens.”

  Logan’s hand closes around mine as he helps me climb out of the cab. He releases his hold when I step onto the sidewalk, but I feel it again on the small of my back as we make our way toward the entrance.

  The Kentucky redneck is a gentleman. That shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. I shut my thoughts down as he pauses to scan the buildings behind us.

  “It really looks just like what you see on TV. All the lights. Huge buildings. Cool for a vacation, but I don’t know how people get used to living in the middle of all of this.”

  I turn and take it in through his eyes. Everything is bigger, brighter, and louder in New York. I can only imagine how chaotic it must seem to someone who isn’t used to it. Maybe about like the way Logan’s presence is making me feel.

  “I guess when you’ve lived here all your life, you don’t know any different, though,” he adds, his observation accurate.

  “Pretty much. When I was a kid, I would beg my driver to take the route through Times Square. It was a treat to see all the lights since he normally avoided it.”

  “Your driver?”

  When Logan’s gaze lands on me, I still. I don’t talk about my childhood much to anyone. It just slipped out.

  I take a step toward the door. “My parents weren’t around much when I was growing up, and they definitely don’t drive. So, yeah, I had a driver as a kid.”

  Logan’s expression is thoughtful, almost amused. “We really are from two different worlds. I pedaled my ass off three miles to school when I missed the bus. When I blew a tube, I walked.”

  “Your parents didn’t take you?”

  Logan shakes his head. “My ma worked graveyard, so she wasn’t awake until after I got home from school, if she was even there.”

  “So basically we were both kids who raised ourselves because our parents were busy doing other things?”

  Even though our circumstances were vastly different, it seems that Logan Brantley and I have more common ground than either of us realized.

  The heat from his hand burns through my dress as
he brings me closer to his side to miss a crowd of tourists snapping pictures and not paying attention to where they’re walking.

  I look up to find those blue eyes fixed on my face.

  “I guess you’re right. Our playgrounds were a little different, though.”

  Breaking the stare, I point to the red awning to our left. “True. We’re heading right in there.”

  Logan leads the way, and once inside, we find ourselves seated at a booth with menus and a waitress heading away with our drink orders.

  I promised myself there would be no liquor tonight so I wouldn’t make any bad judgment calls like I did last night. Jesus. Logan probably thinks I’m some kind of split-personality psycho. I have to explain. Just like I do everything else, I barrel right into it.

  “I was drunk last night. I told my friend not to let me drunk text, but I did it anyway.”

  Logan leans back in his chair, his gaze dropping to his menu for a moment. “I figured that much out myself.”

  “So we can forget that entire conversation ever happened?” My tone is hopeful, and probably a little naive for me. I grip the edges of the table while I wait for him to respond.

  “Some of those things were pretty unforgettable, but I didn’t drive twelve hours for that, Banner.” His gaze is serious and intense, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s his normal state. “I’m not trying to be a dick when I say this, but I don’t need to come all the way to New York just to get a piece of ass.”

  Something about his words has me relaxing my grip, and any momentary self-consciousness drains away.

  “Look, you’re hot. You know it. I know it. Unless the women in Kentucky are blind and stupid, I can’t imagine it would be hard for you to get laid. Unless . . .” I pause and consider. “Do all Kentucky guys look like you? If so . . . holy crap.”

  He throws his head back, and his rich laugh resonates in the bar and causes a weird flutter in my chest.

  Note to self: Don’t let him laugh again. My body can’t handle it.

  When Logan finally stops, he drops his menu on the table. “Let me put it this way. If you’ve got all your teeth, don’t live with your parents, and have a full-time job, you’re pretty much a catch in Gold Haven.”

  My eyes widen at his words. “Then you’re like the Holy Grail in BFE.”

  I realize my mistake as soon as he opens his mouth to laugh again.

  “I don’t know about all that, but if I were trying to catch a woman there, it wouldn’t be too hard.”

  Apparently it wouldn’t be too hard in New York either, because when a new waitress stops at our table to take our orders, she has to ask Logan to repeat his twice. It’s not his accent that’s giving her trouble . . . she’s too busy memorizing every muscle of his body to pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth. She’s not even attempting to be subtle, and it pisses me off.

  Not because I’m jealous or anything. I swear.

  “He said a cheeseburger. Medium rare. American cheese. Fries. Got it?” I repeat it for her a third time to confirm.

  For the first time since she stopped at our table, she finally looks at me. Her perfectly arched eyebrows and perky tits might intimidate another woman, but not me. I stare her down and send the message that I will cut her if she doesn’t move along.

  She gets me loud and clear.

  “Got it. Thanks.” She flashes a quick look at Logan before backing away. “You let me know if y’all need anything else.”

  All of a sudden she’s affecting a Southern drawl with that Jersey accent? Yeah . . . that’s classy.

  “Are the waitresses here all so damn forgetful?” Logan asks as she heads to a computer to put our order in.

  “Only the ones who are dumb enough to wonder if you could be persuaded to take her home instead of leaving with me.”

  Logan’s eyebrows shoot up and his features take on an insulted expression. “Are you serious? What the hell kind of guy does she take me for?”

  “A shallow one, probably like all the others she’s dated, and at least half the guys in this city.”

  My real man questions must be coming back to him, because he’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “You really don’t have a friggin’ clue what a good guy is like, do you?”

  I shrug. “They’re not exactly in overabundant supply around here. They don’t have to be. Maybe New York isn’t all that much different from Kentucky, because if you’ve got the right job, the right clothes, and the right attitude, you can impress a lot of women.”

  Before he can reply, the waitress returns to the table with an obnoxious giggle. “I hate to bother y’all again, but I can’t read my own writing. What did you want for your side, ma’am?”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. The ma’am is a swipe at my age, and I know it.

  “I ordered the same thing he did.”

  Embarrassment colors her cheekbones when she realizes her mistake. “Oh. Oops. I’ll just go put that in for you.”

  “Thanks. We’re both starving,” Logan adds.

  “I’ll ask the kitchen to put a rush on it,” she offers quickly.

  Logan dismisses her with a nod before turning his attention back to me and reaching for his drink. “So, you gonna tell me how you got the name Banner? It’s unique, for sure.”

  I smile and tell him the truth. “I’m named after the Hulk.”

  Logan is in the middle of sipping his beer, and nearly chokes. “The Hulk? As in the Incredible Hulk?”

  I nod. “The one and only.”

  “Wait. Bruce Banner?”

  “Yep. My parents are both über geeks, and my dad, despite being a world-renowned scientist, still has a comic book collection he won’t let anyone touch. When they found out they were pregnant, my mom was positive it was some kind of mistake, so she wouldn’t even discuss names. My dad picked Banner in honor of his favorite comic book scientist, and my mom didn’t argue.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t end up named Xavier,” he says, in reference to Professor X of the X-Men.

  “Or Logan,” I say. “It suits you much better. You do have a sort of Hugh Jackman-esque look to you. Do you wear flannel shirts often? Or have metal claw thingies that shoot from your hands?”

  “Adamantium claws, you mean?”

  Shock slides through me as he throws out the correct term for the metal that makes up Wolverine’s skeleton, one of those random Marvel facts from my childhood I’ve never forgotten.

  “Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re a comic book geek too? I came by it genetically, so what’s your excuse?”

  Logan laughs and takes another sip of his beer, and I can’t help but study his knuckles. No claws in sight, just big hands. They’re a little banged up, which is probably normal for someone who works on cars all day, but they also look capable. There’s no doubt in my mind, even after only spending a half hour with him, he’s more real man than any guy I’ve ever met.

  “I used to do odd jobs for the guy who owned the garage before me. Every Sunday, if I went to church, he’d make sure he had a comic book waiting for me after. It was something I looked forward to, and I think it was his way of doing a good deed, making sure I actually went.”

  “That was really cool of him. You said you finally bought the garage over a year ago?”

  Logan nods. “Yeah, I came back from the Marines and needed a job, so he gave me back the one I had before I left. For some reason, when you join up, you think that your life is going to be different. And it is, while you’re in the corps. But once you’re out, sometimes it’s like nothing but you changed. The entire world has gone on exactly the same way it did before, and there’s no special prize for the fact that you put your life on the line for years. Sure, people appreciate your service, but that’s where it ends.”

  “I never thought about it like that. How hard it must be to come back and not have anyone understand what you went through. To them, it’s almost like you disappeared and then reappeared with no thought to what happ
ened.”

  Logan shrugs. “It’s a shame in a lot of ways, but then again, I’m one of the lucky ones. I made it back with all my limbs and my wits intact, and now I’ve got a thriving business of my own.”

  His pride when he mentions his business is plain, and I can’t help but blurt out my own excitement.

  “I’m hoping I’ll be self-employed by this time next year too. I’m impressed that you’ve managed to come so far so fast. I hope I have half the success you do.”

  Logan leans forward in his seat. “You didn’t mention that before.”

  The waitress chooses that exact moment to deliver cheeseburgers the size of my head.

  “Is there anything else I can get you?” Her question is directed at Logan.

  He looks to me. “Is there anything else you need, Banner?”

  I glance at the condiments in the center and note that we’ve got all the ones I like. “Nope, I’m good. Thank you.”

  The waitress leaves, but Logan doesn’t dive into his burger right away. “Tell me what you’ve got going on. I’m curious.”

  Part of me wishes I hadn’t said anything, so I decide to keep it in vague terms. “I designed a couple of products and had some prototypes manufactured. Now I’m just finishing up the testing phase and gearing up for production soon.”

  “You going to tell me exactly what kind of products you designed?” Logan reaches for the condiments, and squeezes ketchup and mustard onto his burger.

  I bite my lip, and for the first time since we sat down, I’m thankful when the waitress barges in again.

  “Can I get you another round of drinks? The happy hour special on your beer is almost over, and I wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

  Logan defers to me again. “You want another?”

  “Sure. And a glass of water, as well.”

  As the waitress turns away, I take a giant bite of my burger, effectively ending the conversation.

  Chapter 10

  Logan

  Meeting Banner in person hasn’t satisfied my fascination with her. If anything, it’s kicked it into high gear. It’s easy to choose what impression you give someone via text messages, which is why I wanted to meet her face-to-face. I didn’t think we’d have a damn thing in common, but that’s not the case. After we stuffed ourselves with burgers and fries, she continues to politely dodge my question about what exactly her business is, and I let her.