Real Good Love

by Meghan March

  I lower the bowls to the counter and turn to face her, my sweet tooth on hold for a moment. “Are you seriously asking that question?”

  Banner nods. “I seriously am.”

  “You think there’s a morning where I don’t want to wake up with you in my bed? You think there’s a night where I don’t want to fall asleep with you in my arms?”

  Her eyes turn shiny. “Are you sure?”

  I come back around the bar and stop in front of her. “You’re it for me, Banner. The one. I’d given up on finding the perfect woman for me, but you showed me I hadn’t been looking in the right place. Who knew I had to go all the way to New York City? I’m not stopping with you moving in. There’s a lot more I want, but I’m not pushing you until you’ve had a chance to come around to my way of thinking.”

  “Really?”

  I nod. “Really.”

  She blinks those tears away just before I slide my hand into her hair and cover her lips with mine. When I pull back, she’s staring at me like she’s never seen me before.

  “What, Bruce?”

  “You’re the best man I’ve ever known, and you’re mine.”

  “All yours and no one else’s.”

  “You better let me try the cherry cobbler first, just in case it’s terrible. I’m not chancing it now.”

  My laugh bounces off the walls of the kitchen. “You could give me food poisoning, and I wouldn’t change my mind about a damn thing.”

  Banner presses three fingers over my lips. “Don’t say it. I forgot to check the pork with the meat thermometer. I hope we don’t get trichinosis.”

  I kiss the back of her fingers before stepping away. “We’ll be fine.”

  Back in the kitchen, I load up two bowls with heaping mounds of cherry cobbler, then find the ice cream in the freezer and add a big scoop to each.

  It’s fucking amazing.

  When we finish, Banner and I clean up the potato-spattered mess of the kitchen together. I pat my stomach, which is as full as I can remember it being since last Thanksgiving. “I’m going to have to up my gym sessions to five days a week if you’re going to keep cooking like that.”

  Banner shoots me a look. “When do you have time to go to the gym anyway?”

  “Why do you think I get up so early? I hit it in the mornings, three days a week. You think I look like this from wrenching on cars?”

  “I didn’t give it any thought at all beyond appreciating every single inch of it.”

  The inches I want her to appreciate are sitting up and taking notice.

  Once the last dish is in the dishwasher, I pull her back against my chest. “You know, you might have had a good reason to step in and help me out with the upholstery place, but next time, you need to talk to me about it first, babe.”

  “I can manage that.” She pauses. “Does that mean you’re still pissed?”

  I squeeze her against me. “I couldn’t stay pissed at you if I tried.”

  Her ass wiggles against my crotch. “But you still might want to punish me for being a naughty girl, right?”

  I crane my head sideways to look down at her face. Her expression is filled with pure mischief. “I think you want me to punish you for being a naughty girl.”

  Her entire body tenses. “I mean, you should make sure I learn my lesson.”

  My dick is no longer sitting up and taking notice, but instead is rock hard and ready to punch through my jeans.

  “Is that right?” I step back and slide a hand down her back to grip her ass. “If I turn this red, you’ll remember better next time?”

  She presses back into my touch, and I know that my girl isn’t just amazing. She’s perfect.

  “Maybe.”

  I set her away from me. “I want to see you in the bedroom, laid out over the bed, everything off but your bra and panties.” When she doesn’t move immediately, I give her ass a smack. “Now.”

  Banner bolts away, already pulling off her shirt before she leaves the kitchen.

  In fact, I follow her trail of discarded clothes two minutes later as I walk toward the bedroom. I pick up each piece and drop them inside the doorway. She’s exactly where I asked her to be, all laid out and waiting for me.

  I reach for the back of my shirt and strip it over my head before unbuttoning my jeans and shoving them off.

  “You were a bad girl, weren’t you, Banner?” I ask as I step closer to her. Her ass lifts in anticipation of what’s coming.

  “Yes. Very bad.”

  Fuck. I love that she wants to play these games with me.

  “So I’m going to have to punish you to remind you to always tell me the whole truth.”

  “Yes. I need some help remembering.”

  One more step, and I’m beside the bed and within touching distance. I trail two fingers down her spine to the top of her thong.

  “I think a fitting punishment is pulling these flimsy panties off you and then spanking your ass until you tell me you’ll never do it again.”

  “Mmm. Yes.”

  “Then what am I waiting for?” I land the first strike, and immediately cup her ass cheek and soothe what I just stung. It’s already heating under my hand.

  “You’re moving your stuff in tomorrow. We can tell Holly that we’ll keep an eye on the house together, but I want you here all the time.”

  Banner turns her head and looks up at me over her shoulder. “I think she’ll understand.”

  “I think she will too.”

  Chapter 31

  Logan

  I picked up the Olds 442 from the paint shop on Thursday, and they came through in a big way. Everything is perfect, right down to the red pinstripes. Jock and Rick finished installing the seats and shining up every inch of the interior just as the clock flipped to five p.m.

  Projects like this are what I live for. And even with all the hurdles, it turned out like a boss.

  I might be getting ahead of myself, but Boone Thrasher is going to be a happy man. His custom shifter came in yesterday, and now the knob reads BT in black letters on the top, intertwined with brass knuckles.

  “I know someone’s gotta take it for a test-drive, and boss, you deserve an early night—” Rick says, and I hold up a hand.

  “No way in hell is anyone test-driving this beast but me.” I reach into my pocket for my wallet. “You two worked your asses off, and I appreciate it. Go have a few beers on me.” I hold out a fifty.

  Jock steps up and snags it from my hand. “You ain’t gotta tell us twice. Come on, Rick. We can race to Pints and Pins.”

  Rick grumbles and sends one more longing look at the Olds before nodding to me. “Someday I’m gonna do one of these cars for myself. Breaks a little piece of my heart every time we finish one and have to let it go.”

  His words bring up something I’ve been thinking about. There’s a woman I know who was born to drive a cherry-red convertible, and because she’s as unique as it gets, it can’t be something you can just drive off the lot. As soon as we get back from Nashville, I’m going to be on the lookout for Banner’s new car, a project I’m happy to take on to surprise her. She also doesn’t know she’s going to Nashville this weekend, but I’ll tell her tonight. She’s probably dying to get out of Gold Haven for a minute and into a real city with a Starbucks.

  The guys head out, and I hear their trucks fire up in the lot. I pull out my phone to call Banner, but it’s already buzzing with Boone Thrasher’s name on the screen.

  “Hey, Boone.”

  “You’re getting down to the wire, and I’ve got a big thing planned for that car. Tell me it’s done, Brantley.”

  “It’s done.”

  “Thank fuck. This shit is gonna be epic. My girl will be there, and I’m gonna surprise her by asking her to marry me, then drive right offstage in the car so we can break it in right. I bought the ring yesterday and everything.”

  “Holy shit, man. Congratulations. Wow.” If I remember right, Boone’s girlfriend is another country singer. A tiny t
hing who looks and sounds more like a pop star. I prefer Holly’s brand of country, and that’s without the personal bias.

  “Wow is right. Never fuckin’ thought I’d see the day I’d want to tie myself to a woman, but she’s the first one who’s ever understood what this life is like and can hack it with me.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad the car is ready so you can make it happen.”

  “You doin’ all right? You bringin’ that city girl with you so I can show you both a good time? I’ve got all-access passes for the both of you, and a suite where you can crash so you don’t have to drive back after the show. Press conference and all the classic-car mags are going to be showing up Saturday morning starting at noon, so I can make an appearance and tell them all about the project before I have to get in the zone for the show and start worrying about sound checks and that shit. And fuck, I’m proposing Saturday night. Jesus Christ. I can’t even believe it myself.”

  “We’ll be there tomorrow with the car. I’ll load it up in the morning in the enclosed trailer, and we can bring it right to the stadium for you so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

  “Perfect. I’ll tell my guy to make sure that you’ve got a reservation for tomorrow night too. Thanks for pulling through, man. Not everyone can be true to their word these days, but I knew you would. Holly had good things to say, and she knows her shit when it comes to people.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence. I aim to please.”

  “You better get ready to expand that shop of yours. My buddies are already thinking about using you, and they haven’t even seen the car yet.”

  A smile stretches over my face. “I’m ready for whatever they want.”

  “Perfect. Now I gotta go meet my future father-in-law for dinner and ask him if I can propose to his baby girl. Fuck. I haven’t been this nervous about anything since my first sold-out show.”

  “How could he possibly say no?” I ask, hoping I’m right. I’m actually surprised as hell that Boone is sharing all this with me.

  “You’re right. I’m Boone Fucking Thrasher. I got this. See you and the ride tomorrow,” he says before he hangs up.

  More than ever, I’m really glad that it all came together. Now I just need to take the car on a nice and easy test-drive with Banner and do a few last-minute checks on it before I load it up in the trailer in the morning.

  I tap my screen a few times to bring up our last text.

  LOGAN: Wanna meet me at the shop? We’re going for a ride.

  MY WOMAN: Did someone say ride? I’m so there. Give me a few to get ready. I’ve been up to my elbows in dicks all day.

  I laugh and tuck my phone back in my pocket before heading to the overhead door to open it. As soon as I step outside, Julianne waves from the window of Cut a Bitch, and I wave back. She comes out, walks across the street, and sticks her head inside.

  “Oh my hell. Is this Boone Thrasher’s car? Holy shit. It is hot.”

  “Sure is. He’s gonna see it tomorrow for the first time.”

  “You mean he’s gonna get laid tomorrow in it for the first time, because that’s what a badass like him would do.”

  “Not going there with you.”

  “Well, I’m just sayin’. You gonna drive it?”

  “Waitin’ on Banner to get here.”

  “Can I talk to you about one thing before you go?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I was down at the county building renewing my DBA, and that reporter chick was there pulling all kinds of property-tax records and searching deeds and stuff.”

  “So?”

  “I heard her tell someone at Home Cookin’ earlier today that she’s been interviewing lots of people, and she mentioned you as being particularly helpful. You better believe a lot of people were shocked by that.”

  “I didn’t tell her shit.”

  “You might want to set the record straight. Now everyone thinks you must’ve given her some kind of big tip, because she says she’s close to breaking the case.”

  “I don’t have time for this crap. I’ve got a business to run, and I’m sure as shit not letting her get in my way.”

  “Whatever you say, Logan. But I thought you should know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Have you heard anything else about Nicole? I asked Cody when I cut his hair, but of course he wouldn’t say shit to me.”

  I shake my head. I’ve been so caught up in my deadline, I haven’t had a chance to track Nicole down. “She’s been scarce; that’s all I know.”

  “I saw her down at the bowling alley working, but it was a quiet night and everyone seemed to be staying at their tables and waiting for Rosie to take orders rather than going up to the bar. It’s like the court of public opinion has already passed judgment on her, and it wasn’t favorable.”

  “She didn’t do shit. You and I both know it.”

  Julianne shrugs. “Just because she’s our friend doesn’t mean she’s a saint, Logan. Sweet job on the car. It’s nice to see another one of our own making good again, especially with all this bullshit happening. Catch ya later.”

  With a wave, she strides out of the garage, and I’m left wondering if this town will ever be the same.

  Chapter 32

  Banner

  I tried to hurry; I really did. But honestly, I didn’t have a clue what I should wear to go ride around in Boone Thrasher’s badass car. It brings a smile to my face to know that it wouldn’t be nearly so badass if my man hadn’t made it that way.

  And we already took it to Brown Town . . .

  Flashes of what it was like to be bent over the hood of the car while Logan powered into me from behind flip through my brain. Damn, that was hot.

  If I’m not careful, I might throw myself at Logan as soon as I see him, and I know with the new paint job, there won’t be any more action happening on the 442. It’s a sad fact, but one I’ll find a way to live with.

  I stop at the back door to slide on my boots and complete what I’ve come to think of as my Gold Haven uniform—skinny jeans, knee-high boots, and a black top. I stood in the closet forever debating between this and my super-short skirt I wore the other night. Should I have gone with the skirt? Maybe, but I’ve wasted enough time as it is, and Logan has to be chomping at the bit to take this car for a spin.

  The clock on the dash of my rental car tells me I’m running further behind than I should be. I told him a few minutes, but it’s been closer to an hour. Maybe I should offer up some road head to apologize for my tardiness so he won’t hold it against me.

  Then I’d have two things to tell Boone Thrasher about his precious new car. Hmm, I consider that a point in favor of road head.

  I flip the radio station to the local country channel, a new taste I’ve acquired, and as though destined, one of Boone’s songs is playing.

  He’s got this gravelly voice that instantly conjures thoughts of driving down backcountry roads in a pickup truck. All the things he describes were completely foreign to me only two months ago, and now they’ve become part of my everyday life. Life in a small country town is a completely different proposition than living in New York.

  Boone delivers one hell of a performance, and Logan doesn’t know it yet, but I’m already planning on being a stowaway when he goes to deliver the car tomorrow so I can meet this guy in person.

  I slow at the stop sign about two hundred feet before the blinking light at the Four Corners, and a blast drowns out the song. My car is at a complete stop, but it shakes anyway.

  The percussion seems to echo, and I freeze. Did the whole town just explode?

  Jarring myself out of my momentary paralysis, I scan the buildings in front of me. From behind a stand of huge oak trees, a raging fire meets a cloud of black smoke forming in the sky.

  Logan’s shop is on the other side of those trees.

  I floor my accelerator until the source of the smoke comes into view. Flames lick into the sky from the garage.
r />   Where I’m meeting Logan.

  Oh my God. His truck is parked near the Dumpsters, but there’s no sign of him, or of Boone’s car.

  “No!” I scream, my voice shaking as I jerk my wheel to the side. My tire collides with the curb, but I don’t care as I slam it into park.

  I jump out of the car and run toward the inferno, heat already warming my face.

  “Stop! Don’t!”

  A man reaches out and grabs me around the waist, dragging me back when my heels connect with the pavement to keep moving forward.

  “No!” My voice doesn’t sound like me. It’s ragged. Desperate. Terrified.

  “Get back. Everyone, get back! The gas tanks are gonna blow!” the man yells as he pulls me around the side of the post office. “Take cover!”

  I don’t know who he’s yelling at, but all I want is to free myself from his iron grip.

  “Let me go! I have to get to him! Logan’s in there.” I whip my head around to fight against the man, but he’s too strong.

  “You wanna get killed? We gotta get back.” He stops once we’re safe behind the post office, and the percussion of another explosion rocks the ground.

  “Get down!” He pushes me to my knees and covers me with his body.

  Screams split the air, and sirens wail in the distance.

  It’s chaos. Complete and utter chaos. And only one thought is running through my head on repeat: I have to get to Logan.

  I crawl out from under the man to stand, but freeze when I see the blaze reaching higher into the sky. My eyes burn, and tears stream down my face.

  A door slams beside me, startling me and dragging me out of my disjointed thoughts.

  “Oh my fucking God! What the hell just happened?” Julianne’s voice cuts through the static in my head as she shuts the back door of Cut a Bitch. “I was in the basement. My front window is blown out. Logan’s shop is . . . rubble.” She whispers the last word as I run toward her.

  “Where is he?” I demand. “Did you see him?”

  I run to the corner of the building with Julianne on my heels. The fire is so intense, it heats my face as soon as I step beyond the protection of the concrete walls.