by Meghan March
Even though Julianne can’t see it, I prop a hand on my hip, my pose screaming WARNING: ATTITUDE AHEAD. “Logan doesn’t want her. He wants me.”
“But that didn’t stop her from faking a pregnancy and getting a ring from the homecoming king three weeks after graduation.”
“What?” Shock slams into me.
“She’s a slippery bitch, and even though that didn’t work out the way she planned, I wouldn’t put anything past her when it comes to Logan.”
“I’ll be back by the end of the week.”
“I wouldn’t wait too long. See you soon, Banner. Oh, and can you bring me back one of those New York Fire Department T-shirts? And maybe one of those shirtless firemen too? The ones in the calendars. Wait, never mind. Firemen are assholes. Bring me an NYPD shirt and a sexy cop.”
I laugh, but it sounds forced. Probably because I want to accidentally knock Emmy Harris into a ditch. With my car.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
After I hang up with Julianne, I tell myself I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Emmy Harris. Logan is mine. End of story.
Then why did you ask him about her bringing him dinner?
A few weeks away after even less time than that together isn’t exactly the best recipe for a relationship.
And if you’re not worried about Emmy Harris, why did you pay the hotel chef so much money to give you cooking classes at night?
Dammit, that little voice in my head really needs to shut up before I actually start to worry.
I know exactly what will quell it, though—I call Logan.
“Hey, Bruce. Perfect timing, I just got out of the shower.”
The vision in my head is delicious. “Are you naked or wearing a towel?”
His voice deepens. “A towel, but that can change.”
We’ve had phone sex more times than I should probably admit to over the last three weeks, and then that one hilarious attempt at Skype sex. But come on, a girl has needs, and Logan’s husky drawl gets me to the finish line faster than anything else.
“Mmm, is that so? I could probably get rid of a few layers myself,” I tell him.
Instead of responding with something equally sexy, Logan says, “Shit. My doorbell.”
“What?”
“Someone’s here.”
“Should I let you go?”
I can hear his footsteps over the phone like he’s headed to the door to check.
“Fuck, it’s Emmy. I’ll call you back, babe.”
Before I can reply, Logan ends the call.
No. Fucking. Way.
Logan just answered the door to that bitch wearing only a towel?
Everything Julianne said comes back in a rush, and I bolt off the bed to grab my laptop.
It’s time for me to get back to Gold Haven and my man.
Chapter 10
Logan
I open the front door, and Emmy’s face is flushed and her hair is mussed. I’ve never seen her this out of sorts before.
She throws herself against my bare chest and wraps her arms around my neck. My dick, semi-hard from anticipating another round of jacking off while I talk to Banner on the phone, is wedged between us awkwardly.
Jesus Christ, her timing couldn’t be worse.
“I didn’t know who else to come to. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I had to talk to someone.” Her words come out muffled against my shoulder.
“What’s going on, Emmy? Are you okay?”
She shakes her head. “It’s all too much.”
I wait for a beat, hoping she’s gonna explain, but she keeps holding on. I pat her shoulder and work on untangling myself from her.
Conscious of the fact that I’m only wearing a towel, I carefully unwrap her arms from around my neck and set her away from me.
Until I feel a breeze.
The buttons on Emmy’s coat yanked apart my hastily tucked towel, leaving my dick swinging in the open.
I grab for the towel as it drops to the floor. I don’t look up until it’s wrapped around my waist and anchored firmly.
Emmy’s eyes are the size of saucers, and she’s not looking at my face as her hand flies up to her lips.
“Shit. Sorry. I . . . come on in. I’m gonna go throw some clothes on, and I’ll be back in a second.”
She steps inside, and I shut the door behind her and turn for the hall, cursing her timing every step of the way.
Fuck. Why didn’t I shove her right back out the door? I take my time giving myself a mental ass-kicking as I pull on baggy sweats and a T-shirt, and return to the living room . . . to find it empty.
The clinking of dishes comes from the kitchen, and I turn to see Emmy reach up in the cupboard and bring down mugs as the scent of brewing coffee hits me.
“I know you didn’t exactly say to make myself at home, but I had to keep my hands busy.” She sets the mugs on the counter and rushes over to me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Not wanting to hear her apologize for the towel incident, or hell, do anything but forget it ever happened, I interrupt. “What’s going on, Emmy?”
She wraps her arms around her body. “I’m just not used to dealing with all this. It’s not normal for me.”
“What happened?”
Her expression, already sober, turns more serious. “The police just interviewed me for over an hour, and I’ve never been so shaken up in my entire life.”
“Cody interviewed you? About what?”
She walks back into the kitchen and fills a mug of coffee, then dumps in one packet of sugar before sliding it across the counter toward me without asking. She repeats the process with a second mug and comes around to stand beside me.
With both hands curled around the mug, she stares up, her eyes wide. “About all this drug stuff. My parents owned one of those houses that blew up. The one Roy Planter was found in.”
Cody didn’t mention that to me, but I’m not all that surprised.
“They own a lot of rental properties. Was he saying there was some connection to your family?”
The Harrises have always been one of the richest families in the county, and only partly due to the success of Home Cookin’. They own a square mile or so out near the county line where they have their compound, a few cabins, and Emmy’s new house that she’s been building for over a year.
Emmy’s voice is weak as she continues. “He didn’t straight-out say there was a connection, but he implied it strongly. And then there were more questions that just scared the daylights out of me.”
“Like what?”
“About a couple of my employees they suspect might be either using or buying stuff to make the drugs. He wanted to know if I knew of anyone else who seemed suspicious.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That we can’t be a unified town if we’re going to be looking at our neighbors like they’re suspects. Then we’ll all be at each other’s throats instead of working together to try to put an end to this.”
I actually agree with Emmy’s sentiment. I hate to look at the people coming into my shop and wonder who’s dealing and who’s buying or supplying.
“What did Cody say to that?”
“If we want our town back, I need to be more vigilant in watching my customers and people from out of town who seem out of place.”
When she mentions people from out of town, I immediately think of Banner. Apparently, so does Emmy.
“Cody thought it was quite the coincidence that nothing else has happened since your friend left to go back to New York.”
Anger rises up from the depths of my gut. “Banner doesn’t have shit to do with any of this. The first house exploded before she even got here.”
Emmy looks up at me, an expression of pure innocence on her face, but there’s no way it’s genuine. “That’s exactly what I told him.”
She pauses and sips her coffee, still gripping the mug as though it’s keeping her together. When she finally meets my gaze agai
n, the innocent expression has faded.
“I’m not going to pretend that I like her, Logan. I’m not going to pretend that I’m not upset you’ve picked her over me when you knew I was building my house for both of us. But I guess my small-town upbringing isn’t good enough for you anymore.”
Emmy’s honesty surprises me, as does the comment about her house. I fucked up by not putting that idea out of her head.
But her accusation about not being good enough pisses me off. Emmy Harris was always the princess who sat on the pedestal above everyone else and got whatever she wanted. Maybe that’s why I didn’t shut her down hard. Maybe I liked that Emmy Harris, who wouldn’t have talked to me as a teenager, finally found me worthy.
It wasn’t until Banner came into my life that the chip on my shoulder started shrinking. Still, the time has come to set Emmy straight.
“I’m gonna be plain with you, Emmy. That last bit is bullshit, and we both know it. I spent so many years not being worthy of anyone in this town, I’m the last person who’s going to pretend like Gold Haven or anyone from here isn’t good enough for me.”
Her shoulders straighten. “So you just like her better than me. I get it. I built the fairy tale in my head, but apparently I didn’t take into account the fact that the prince would fall for someone else. I know when I’ve lost. You don’t have to tell me again.”
The fact that she says lost like I’m some kind of prize pisses me off, but it doesn’t matter. All I want is to get Emmy out of my kitchen so I can call Banner back. I can already imagine how well that conversation will go.
Emmy takes another sip of her coffee before setting it on the counter. “I hope we can still be friends, Logan. I would hate to think you being with her would change that.”
If it gets her out of my kitchen faster, I can give her that reassurance. “Of course.”
She smiles again, but it wobbles. “I guess I should get going. I just . . . I didn’t know who else to talk to about this whole mess. I can’t believe we even have to deal with it. This isn’t the town I remember anymore.”
I nod. “That’s the truth.”
Emmy steps away from the counter. “Sorry to interrupt your night.” She heads for the door, but pauses on the threshold. “There was one other question Cody asked that threw me for a loop, and I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“What?”
“He asked me if I knew anything about Nicole, or how she’s raising money to buy Pints and Pins from Ben.”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
“That was my reaction too. I told him I don’t know her well at all, but we all know she’s dead set on owning that bowling alley, and hustles every minute of every day so she can make it happen. I’ve always admired her drive in that respect. She rents a cabin on my parents’ land, so my first thought was whether or not I need to walk around and see if she’s got her own meth lab going.”
“Is that what you told Cody?”
Emmy shakes her head. “No, I didn’t want to point fingers. I can’t imagine she would, you know?”
The memory of Nicole trying and failing to buy something from the pharmacy the night Banner and I went on a hunt for lube flashes through my mind. No fucking way is she making meth. I don’t believe it. But it doesn’t add up.
“I’ve known Nicole a long time, and I can’t see her stooping that low to make a buck.”
Emmy nods. “I agree. It just struck me as odd, that’s all. I’ll let you get back to your evening. Sorry for bothering you, Logan. I hope Banner realizes what a good guy she’s got. Because if she doesn’t . . .” Emmy trails off, but her point is clear.
It’s also a statement I won’t touch with a ten-foot pole. “Good night. Drive safe.”
She opens the door and steps out. I close it and lock it behind her, my thoughts going in a dozen different directions.
Part of me wants to go right over to Pints and Pins and talk to Nicole, but it’s not my job or my business. On the other hand, we’re friends, and I’ve been looking out for her a long time.
How is she making extra money? She works her shifts at the factory and the bowling alley, but it’s been at least six weeks since she’s pulled a shift at the shop doing oil changes.
Fuck, I hate that I’m even thinking about this.
I grab my phone and call Banner back, fully expecting an earful about me answering the door to Emmy Harris wearing only a towel.
Instead, I get Banner’s voice mail.
“No one leaves voice mails anymore. Text me if it’s important. And if you’re trying to sell me something, go buy a bag of dicks.”
I leave a message anyway. “Bruce, call me back.”
I’m still trying to keep my eyes open after two hours of watching SportsCenter, but my phone doesn’t ring before I fall into bed.
Chapter 11
Banner
One brilliant thing about New York? Everything is open late, and that worked perfectly for my defensive shopping last night.
When I walk onto the plane taking me to Gold Haven, I’ve got one more suitcase than I left with, packed with enough scandalous lingerie to destroy any man’s inhibitions.
Do I think I really need it to make sure I have no competition for Logan?
Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fucking fabulous, and that man is lucky to have me.
I remind myself of that no fewer than eighty times on the flight. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to leave anything to chance.
Also with me—more lube. Just in case.
Brown Town, here we come.
I’m a woman on a mission when I step off my last flight at six o’clock at night, annoyed it took me an entire freaking day to get here since I made my plans at the last minute. As soon as I leave the rental car desk, I’m headed for my first destination. Logan’s shop.
He’s never going to know what hit him. My skirt is short, my heels are tall, and my hair, skin, and nails are perfect from the pampering I managed to sneak in this week.
I pull into the parking lot an hour and a half later, mostly because I was so busy singing along to every kick-ass female anthem on my playlist that I missed the turn and went fifteen miles in the wrong direction.
But no one needs to know that little detail.
The lights are still on, and Logan’s truck is parked in its normal spot alongside the building. No other cars remain in the lot.
I pull out my phone and switch it out of airplane mode. I told myself I kept it there all day because I was worried about the safety of my flights and obviously because of the FAA regulations, but that’s total bull.
I didn’t trust myself not to answer what must be at least a few messages from Logan. I wanted this to be a surprise. Like when Logan thought I might be pregnant, this is a discussion that needs to happen in person.
A few text messages pop up from him immediately, and they’re progressively more . . . let’s call it assertive.
MY SEXY MAN: Bruce, call me.
MY SEXY MAN: Seriously, babe. Call me.
MY SEXY MAN: CALL ME.
MY SEXY MAN This radio silence shit will not fly. Call me, Bruce.
MY SEXY MAN: Banner Regent, don’t even try to dodge me. I know where you are, and I will come to you and show you how a real man handles this situation.
A smile spreads over my face. I’ve come to terms with a few things in the last twenty-four hours, and one of them is that I don’t care if I’m the first one to say those words I’ve been holding back. I love Logan Brantley, and I’m not going to let another day go by without telling him. To his face.
After I park, I slide out of the car, careful not to pull a Britney and flash anyone my vag because I’m going commando under this skirt, and strut my ass up to the entrance.
I push on the door that opens into the waiting room, but it doesn’t budge. Locked. Well, dammit, that’s not part of my plan. I bang on it, but no one comes. The beat of whatever rock song he’s listening to is thumping through the
walls.
I pull my phone out of my wristlet and text him back.
BANNER: Open the damn door.
A response pops up in seconds.
MY SEXY MAN: What door?
BANNER: I’m waiting.
That’s when the music volume drops and I get my first real look at Logan after three weeks. Damn, he’s sexy, especially when he’s angry.
He’s still wiping his dripping hands on a rag and shoving it into his pocket when he stalks into the waiting room to twist the lock and yank the door open.
“The next time you wait twenty-four hours to answer me and have me thinking all the awful fucking things that could’ve happened to you in New York, I swear I will put you over my lap and spank some goddamned sense into you.”
I should probably be annoyed, but his threat turns me on more than anything. I’m also not about to let him forget how this whole situation came about.
“Maybe, just maybe, you might want to think twice the next time you answer your door in a towel to a woman who wants your dick.”
“I wouldn’t give a single fuck if she showed up naked at my door on her knees. The only woman I want is you.”
Lust and adrenaline burn through my veins as I smile. “I know.”
His eyes widen a fraction. “What do you mean, you know?”
“If you feel half of what I’m feeling, then you’re so in love with me, you wouldn’t notice if she twerked on your dick in the middle of church.”
“You’re in love with me.” The words come out slow and measured.
“You’re the best man I’ve ever met, Logan Brantley. Of course I am.”
He pulls me inside and locks the door behind me. Heat burns in his gaze. “Say it.”
“I love you.”
Logan’s lips crush down on mine before I’m finished speaking them, and he pours every bit of emotion running through him into me.
I pull my head back. “Now, you say it.”