by Meghan March
Memories of what happened last time I showed up here to find her cooking rush through my head, including the way that night ended. With me buried balls deep inside her.
I’m out of the truck within moments and striding toward the front door. It’s unlocked, so I let myself in. Instead of the scent of something burning, it smells amazing. Browned meat, garlic, and some kind of Italian spice.
Banner spins around at the sound of the door opening. “You’re early. I’m not quite done.” There’s a small, almost hesitant smile on her face.
“Whatcha doin’, Bruce?”
“What does it look like, Logan?”
“You’re cooking.”
She nods slowly. “Got it in one.”
I tilt my head to the side, trying to figure out what I’m missing, and Banner picks up on my confusion.
“I, uh . . . took some lessons when I was back in New York.”
Surprise filters through me, along with admiration. “Why?”
“Because I figured it was time I learn to feed myself so you don’t have to do it all the time.”
“You know I don’t mind.” I say the words, but a warmth pools in the vicinity of my heart. She learned to cook for me.
“I wanted to.” Banner glances at the bubbling skillet behind her. “I can’t promise the results are going to be terribly impressive. It’s just spaghetti and meatballs. But I did make the meatballs from scratch.”
“It smells fucking amazing, and I’m sure it’ll taste the same way. I’m really impressed, babe.”
Her eyes widen. “Don’t jinx it. I haven’t started a single fire or burned anything, so just hold off for a minute.” A timer dings on the counter, and she spins around. “That’s the pasta.”
I step toward her. “Let me drain it for you.”
“I wanted to have it all ready as a surprise.”
I meet her gaze. “You already did. Besides, we’re a team. Let me help.”
Banner’s smile grows bigger as she steps aside to let me grab the pasta pot off the stove. The colander is already on the kitchen counter, so I make quick work of the process while Banner pulls the garlic bread out of the oven and sets it on the table, followed by the meatballs and sauce. It’s a simple meal, but it means a hell of a lot to me that she went to the trouble to learn to make it.
This woman, the one I thought I wouldn’t have a damned thing in common with, has proven she fits into my life better than I could have imagined.
We both sit down, a beer in front of my plate and a glass of red wine in front of Banner’s.
“I might’ve already had one or two glasses, but I actually think it helped me chill out and not screw everything up.”
She holds her breath while I take my first bite. I chew and give the verdict as soon as I swallow.
“It’s amazing.”
The pride on her face is obvious as she tries it for herself. “Damn, I did a good job. I think it even tastes delicious.”
“Told you.”
We both dig in, and Banner waits until I push my plate away after seconds to bring up the subject I figured would come sooner. “Are you going to tell me more about what happened with your upholstery lady?”
“It’s my problem to work out, and I will.”
“But I caused it.”
I shake my head as I finish off my beer. “Tricia caused it, not you. You didn’t throw the first punch.”
“You know what I mean. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. How was I supposed to know she had an inbred brother? I thought I was making a ridiculous generalized insult. I can’t get over how insane it is that she actually has one.”
I lower my beer to the table with a laugh. “They’re pretty touchy about it. The story goes that her mama didn’t know his daddy was her uncle, but there are plenty of people in this town that dispute it. The story will never die, I swear.”
“And I thought New York was crazy.”
“It’s got nothing on a small town, but let’s talk about something else. I’ve been beating this to death today, and I could really use a distraction.”
“I think I can handle that.” Banner stands and turns to open the fridge, which is right behind her chair in the small kitchen. “How about some dessert?”
She pulls out a can of whipped cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup.
“And by dessert, I mean me.”
Chapter 21
Banner
These sheets may never be the same, but I couldn’t care less when Logan’s head is between my legs and my back arches as I come for the second time.
“Oh. My. God.”
Logan rises up off his knees and lifts my sticky body into the air. “I’m fucking you in the shower.”
“Okay.” The word comes out on a breath. “But you might have to hold me up. I’m not sure my legs are going to work.”
“All you gotta do is keep them wrapped around my waist.”
He carries me into the small bathroom and lowers me to my feet, only to strip off his remaining clothes and flip on the water before lifting me up again.
“I’m gonna slide you down on my cock and fuck the hell out of you against the wall.”
“How do you feel about the neighbors hearing me scream your name?”
“Fucking phenomenal.”
Logan steps up and over the side of the tub and proceeds to do exactly what he promised. He presses me against the tile wall, and inch by inch, he fills me. I have to move my grip from his flexed arms to around his shoulders to steady myself as he pulls back and thrusts inside. My already sensitized clit sings with the friction of his body, and my orgasm builds. Over and over, he fucks into me without slowing or losing his rhythm. My head drops back against the tile as he powers inside. I shift my grip, holding on for dear life as he forces me over the edge.
“Logan!”
His groan fills the shower moments later as he stills, his cock pulsing with his release.
Jesus Christ.
My head lolls to the side as I regain my footing, and he pulls me into his chest. We turn one step at a time until the hot water beats down on my back.
“I love you, baby.”
I lift my head to meet his hazy gaze. “Love you right back.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead and we stand under the hot spray, saying nothing until it runs cold.
* * *
Hours later, my phone buzzes on the nightstand, but Logan is dead to the world in bed next to me. I reach for the phone and read the text from Greer.
BEST BITCH: I found someone who knows someone. I’ll be in touch when I have more.
I translate her cryptic message to mean that there’s still hope for me to fix what I inadvertently screwed up for Logan.
BANNER: Thank you! Love you!
BEST BITCH: Love you too. xo
I roll back into Logan’s arms, finally able to sleep.
Chapter 22
Logan
On Saturday, the entire town came out to celebrate Founder’s Day and take part in the parade down Main Street despite the cool temperatures. Same as every year, I volunteered my truck to pull one of the high school floats, but this year Banner is sitting shotgun beside me, her hands wrapped around a thermos of spiked coffee.
We made good progress this week on the Olds 442, but after calling the seven upholsterers within a two-hundred-mile radius, I still have no one to replace Mrs. Borst, regardless of how much money I offer them. No one is willing to take on such a complex project with less than a week to turn it around, and without the custom interior, I’m totally fucked.
I haven’t accepted defeat yet, bound and determined that there’s no way in hell I’m going to ask Banner to apologize. Despite all its good points, sometimes I really hate living in a small town.
“This is so surreal,” Banner says as she gawks out the passenger window. “I swear, no one must be home right now because every single person in this town is here.”
We’re almost to the Four Corners, where there’s a
beer tent and a barbecue competition happening.
“There isn’t a lot that happens in Gold Haven except a few festivals, and when there’s a beer tent, you can pretty much guarantee everyone is gonna come out and celebrate. Shit, I remember when Holly brought her husband here for WinterFest. If you think you and I get some looks, it’s nothing compared to what they got.”
Banner’s head whips around from the window to face me, her eyebrow raised. “I bet we could give them a run for their money if we tried tonight.”
“Easy now. We’ll get plenty of attention without even trying. You do remember the bowling alley . . .”
The amusement fades from Banner’s expression. “Okay, fine. I’ll be on my best behavior. I’m not saying I wasn’t then, but I refuse to leave tonight needing another bag of tater tots.”
Her shiner is barely visible today, at least not with makeup hiding the fading colors.
“I think that’s a good plan, babe. I’ll buy you a beer, feed you some barbecue, and we can people watch before I take you home and keep you up most of the night.”
“Deal.”
She winks as we slow to wait for the parade traffic to turn left and park in various lots up the next block. We take another left and pull into the alley behind my shop to unhook the float. One of the kids’ dads will be by to tow it away later.
Outside Cut a Bitch, Julianne has a big table, and all her stylists are handing out flyers and little pink bags to the people walking by.
After we park, I help Banner out of the cab, and all the high school kids hop off the float and head toward the food. I wrap an arm around my woman and steer her in the same direction.
Julianne waves when she sees us. “Nice cover-up job!”
Banner salutes her, but the makeup doesn’t hide the pink her cheeks are taking on. “Jesus Christ, it’s been a week already. How long do you think it’ll take before people forget about that?”
I look down at her. “Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie?”
Her brows draw together. “I’m not sure.”
I try to keep the smile off my face. “I’m sure they’ll forget by next weekend.”
She pulls away, or at least attempts it, but I’m not letting her go anywhere. “You’re lying. No one is ever going to forget, are they?”
“Probably not, but look at it this way. It’s unlikely anyone else is going to try to take you on. You held your own.”
Banner rolls her eyes. “I got my ass kicked. I probably need a rematch so I can redeem myself.”
“Whoa, cage fighter. I think once was enough.”
“I don’t care if her brother’s dad is really her new used-to-be-sister. Or whatever. If she comes at me again—”
I cup the side of Banner’s face and press my thumb to her lips, trying not to laugh. “Now that you don’t have to worry about. And she won’t.”
Banner closes her eyes for a beat before meeting mine. “Moving on.”
“Good. How do you feel about barbeque?”
She presses a hand to her stomach. “Feed me. I need all the food.”
“That I can do.”
We make our way through the line, filling our tray with barbeque, baked potatoes, corn, and pie. Once our plates are full, we find seats across from each other at the end of one of the picnic tables under the tents covering Main Street.
“I’m going to grab some beer. You want one?”
Banner taps the bottle of water she picked up in line. “I’m good. I forgot for a hot second that I don’t actually like beer. Besides, this way I can drive if you need me to.”
“Fair enough.” I give her a nod before heading up to the crew serving beer in the next tent. The line moves quickly, which isn’t surprising because Nicole is working.
“Hey, Logan, what’ll you have?”
“Whatever’s good tonight.”
She turns around and grabs two plastic cups already filled with a light-colored beer.
“This is my favorite of what we’ve got on tap.” She pauses. “Banner okay after the other night? That shit was pretty epic.”
I shove my hand in my back pocket to pull out my wallet. “She’s fine.” I hand the money over and am about to say more when Cody steps up to the side of the bar.
“Can I get you something, Officer?” Nicole asks him.
“I need you to come with me, Nicole. I’ve got a few questions for you.”
I freeze, my hands wrapped around the cups as I watch the exchange, everything Emmy said about Nicole coming back to me. There’s no way . . .
Nicole gestures to the taps and the line behind me. “Can’t it wait? I’m working.”
“You’re a harder woman to track down than I would’ve thought. I’ve been out to your place three times, and I seem to keep missing you.” The way Cody says it makes it sound like he thinks she’s dodging him on purpose.
“I’m sorry your timing is shit, but I can’t leave now.”
The serious expression on Cody’s face stays put. “Right now I’m asking. Don’t make me tell you.”
Nicole blinks. “Are you threatening to arrest me?”
“I’m telling you that I have questions to ask you in connection with an ongoing investigation, and I’m done chasing you around this town trying to get answers.”
“Questions about what?”
“You don’t want me to go into it here.”
“We got a problem here?” Jordan Birch, the beer distributor in town and the man responsible for the beer tents, comes up behind Nicole. “Because I got beer to sell, and this line ain’t getting any shorter.”
“You need to find someone to take over the rest of Nicole’s shift. She’s coming with me.”
Jordan’s gaze cuts to Nicole and back to Cody. “What the hell is going on?”
“Fine. I’ll go. But only because I don’t want to give the assholes in this town more to talk about, which is exactly what’s going to happen if you drag me out of here.” Her tone is ripe with frustration, and maybe a little fear. She gives Cody a hard look. “Do I need to call a lawyer?”
The cop shrugs. “If you feel like you need one. That’s up to you.”
She straightens her shoulders. “I’ve got nothing to hide, but I know how this goes. You’re going to automatically assume I did something wrong if I call one. So, fuck it, I’ll follow you to the station and you can ask your questions. This is bullshit, for the record.”
Nicole knocks a stack of plastic cups off the temporary bar and strides off. Cody is on her heels, and the fact that he’s not about to let her out of his sight makes me wonder exactly what he’s got on her.
What the hell is this town coming to?
Chapter 23
Banner
Apparently all I had to do if I wanted people to stop talking about my epic bowling alley catfight was wait for the next big piece of gossip to hit Gold Haven. I didn’t have to wait long.
“Did you hear that Cody Reeves just arrested Nicole Hiram?”
“What?”
The conversation starts at the picnic table backed up to the one I’m sitting at before Logan returns with his beer. I search the crowd for him and see him moving my way. As soon as he sits down, I whisper, “I just heard that Nicole—”
His expression turns dark. “Jesus, it just happened. People are fucking fast when it comes to gossip.”
“So it’s true.” My whisper gets a little louder.
Logan shakes his head. “He just asked her to come in to answer some questions. That’s all.”
The buzz of conversation behind us grows louder, and Logan’s gaze lifts over my shoulder.
“So she’s the one responsible for all those houses exploding? Just to buy that bowling alley? Shameful what people will do for money these days.”
“Isn’t it, though? I always knew there was something off about that girl.”
Logan’s fisted hands clench tighter on the table, his knuckles turning white. He can’t protect her from this gossip, an
d I know it must be pissing him off. The last thing he needs is to blow up and have people talking about him, though.
“Do you want to take this home?” I ask. Our dinners are already in to-go containers, so transport is no issue.
Logan grabs a beer and chugs it before nodding.
“I’ll drive,” I say as he slams the second one back. I just want to get us out of here.
We’re out of the tent and walking toward his truck minutes later.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” Logan says, his voice low and frustrated. “There’s no way Nicole would get mixed up in that stuff. She’s not built like that. Why the fuck would she bust her ass like she has been, and then all of a sudden decide to take the easy way out?”
He opens the driver’s side door for me and helps me into the cab of the truck. I have approximately thirty seconds to work out some kind of response to his question before he climbs in.
“I’m not saying she did, but maybe . . . sometimes people who are busting their asses all the time but can’t seem to catch a break get desperate, and when an easier solution comes along, they might be in a position where it doesn’t sound like the worst idea in the world.”
Logan slams a fist against the dash. “That’s not her. I’ve known her forever, and I refuse to fucking believe she could do something like that.”
I fire up the truck and look at him, no longer able to hold back the question that’s been on my mind ever since I heard the first whisper of gossip tonight. “Why was she forty miles away, late at night, getting shut down when she tried to buy something at the pharmacy?”
He turns and gives me a hard look. “There’s gotta be another explanation. Like why you had pregnancy tests but didn’t even think you were pregnant.”
“Touché.” I shift the truck into drive. “Where are we headed? Your house or mine?”
“I’m not up for sleeping in that tiny bed of yours tonight.”
“Okay.” I turn the wheel in the direction of Logan’s house.
The silence that normally hangs between us is comfortable and easy, yet tonight it’s anything but. I’m practically squirming in the driver’s seat because of how awkward it feels, and I don’t know what to say to fix it.