by Meghan March
Nashville traffic slows to a crawl as we get closer and closer to downtown and the arena.
“Are you sure we’re going to be able to get in there?”
“Boone says he told them we were coming.”
As if the man knew we were talking about him, Logan’s phone dings from the cupholder with a text.
“Wanna check that?”
I grab it and read the text, then send Logan’s reply.
BOONE: Security says they haven’t seen you yet.
LOGAN: Almost there. GPS says 10 minutes.
BOONE: Good. Everyone’s waiting.
“Nothing like a little pressure,” Logan mumbles as he signals to change lanes for our exit.
“It’s all good, babe. He’s going to love the car, and you’re going to have more business than you can handle.”
“Which is great, when I don’t have a shop.”
It’s something I’ve been thinking about since he brought it up earlier. “I did some googling while we stopped for gas, and there’s commercial space available in Gold Haven. I found you two buildings I think could work. You’d have to move the new equipment you buy back to your permanent location after you rebuild, but it would be good for now.”
Logan changes lanes and glances at me. “Seriously?”
“What can I say? I wanted to help.”
“Thank you, babe.” He reaches over and squeezes my thigh with a smile before making the next turn.
Finally, the arena comes into view. We’re only five minutes behind schedule, so I count that as a win.
When we turn around the back side of the building, two huge tour buses are parked inside a fenced area. Security stands in front of the gate.
Logan stops before opening his window. “Logan Brantley for Boone Thrasher.”
“We’ve been waiting for you.” The security guard pulls a pass out of his back pocket. “Hang this from your mirror so it’s visible at all times. Pull right through here and park off to the left next to the buses.”
He steps back and waves for someone else to open the gate. People are milling around outside the fence, and security keeps them from running inside the fenced-off area.
Crazy fans, I guess.
“Can’t believe this is finally happening,” Logan says.
I reach over and lay a hand on his arm. “You should be proud. You rocked this, babe.”
He meets my gaze before pulling forward. “You know, I am. I don’t think I’ve felt this proud since before I took off my uniform for the last time.”
“Did you happen to keep that uniform? I mean, I’m just asking because . . .” I shoot him a wicked smile. “I like the idea of role-playing with my soldier.”
He gives me a sharp look. “Marine, and don’t you forget it.”
I salute him. “Got it.”
Logan pulls up next to a fancy tour bus and parks. We both climb out of the cab of the truck, and a man in ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, boots, and a shredded baseball hat comes toward us.
“I haven’t been this excited since I was sure my folks got me a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. I’m dying to see her.” He pauses and looks to me. “I’m Boone Thrasher.”
“Banner Regent. Nice to meet you. You’re going to love the car.”
“I know. Let’s get her out.”
Logan smiles as we walk around the back of the trailer and unlock the doors. A few more people dressed all in black, who I assume are roadies, join the group around the trailer.
The rear end of the red-and-black car gleams in the sunlight.
“Holy fuck.”
“Wait until you see the rest of her.” Logan hauls out the little ramp things that will be used to drive the car out of the trailer.
“I can’t wait.”
Logan fishes the keys out of his pocket. “You want me to back it out?”
Boone shakes his head. “No, I got it. I’ve done this a time or two.”
“You screw it up, that’s on you.”
I’m honestly shocked at how blunt Logan is with him, but then again, I can’t blame him either.
“Ten-four, brother. No worries.”
Boone jumps up into the back of the trailer, swearing as he runs his hand along the paint job. When the ramps are in place, Logan yells to him to fire it up.
The engine roars to life, and over the sound, I can hear Boone laughing. Everyone holds their breath as he backs it out of the trailer and down the ramps.
I’ve been so busy watching what was happening in front of me, I didn’t realize all the press crowding around us until the click of camera shutters catches my attention.
Now it makes sense why Boone wanted to be the one to back it out. He may look like a simple country guy, but he’s savvy with the press.
When the Olds 442 is parked on solid ground, Logan finally breathes again.
Boone revs the engine, laughing like a crazy person. “This is so fucking badass!”
When he finally turns the engine off, opens the door and climbs out, he throws both arms around Logan. “Amazing, man. You killed it. The shifter knob with my logo. The paint. The interior. It’s just like you drew it. I can’t even fucking believe it.”
“Glad you like her. She’s a beauty.”
“She’s a snarlin’ beast and the baddest bitch to ever roll off a trailer. I can’t wait to get her onstage. This show is gonna be epic. The car, the new single, and my surprise.”
I don’t know what surprise Boone’s talking about, but apparently he doesn’t want the press to know about it either because he doesn’t elaborate.
“You wanna see under the hood?” Logan asks.
“Hell yeah.” Boone crouches near the door and reaches inside for the hood release. Logan comes around the front and props it open.
“Holy shit. Look at that setup.”
I don’t know anything about anything when it comes to cars, but even I think all the shiny metal looks impressive.
Logan runs down the entire list of what makes this car badass, but it all goes right over my head. Apparently Boone doesn’t have that problem, because he’s nodding and grinning.
“It’s gonna take all the restraint I’ve got not to take her to the track and race for pinks like I used to.”
Logan gives him a hard look. “If you’re gonna take that chance, I want first dibs.”
Boone holds out his hand. “Thank you, man. This is truly a masterpiece.”
The press has been hanging back, snapping pictures, but when Boone waves them forward, I’m instantly behind a crowd of people.
As Logan answers questions, his commanding confidence is sexy as hell. I cross my arms, content to watch him in his element.
The press has already heard about the destruction of the shop, and when they ask, Logan handles it like a pro.
“Despite the devastating loss, I’m already making plans to rebuild. I think from Boone’s reaction, it’s clear that I need to get my new temporary location up and running as quickly as possible. We’ll be able to handle all projects coming our way.”
“So, does Boone get to keep you with the car?”
Someone with a drawl more pronounced than Logan’s steps up beside me. I look to the right and see a guy in a worn gray thermal, ripped jeans, and boots.
His question catches me off guard. “Uh, no.”
The man gives me a head-to-toe look, lingering on the predictable spots. “Might be better for him if he could. But then again, since he’s a committed man,” he throws up air quotes around the last two words, “you’d just end up going home with me anyway.”
“I’m not sure who you think you are, but—”
He holds out a big hand. “Nashville recording artist Zane Frisco at your service, beautiful. And when I say at your service, I do mean it. You tell me when and where.” When I don’t reply, he asks, “And you are?”
“Not interested.”
His eyes widen just enough to let me know that’s not the usual reaction he gets. “Honey, you don�
�t realize who you’re talking to, do you?”
I straighten my shoulders and turn to face him. “It doesn’t really matter. You know why?” I point at Logan. “You see that guy? The one who built this badass car? He’s mine and I’m his. So all the flirting in the world isn’t going to be anything but a waste of your breath. I’m taken. Off the market. Well and truly not interested.”
“When you put it like that, it just makes you even more of a challenge. That kind of loyalty is hard to come by in a woman.”
I cross my arms. “That might be true, but that sounds like a you problem.” Glancing back toward Logan, I notice his gaze is on Zane Frisco and me.
“Sure you don’t want to make him jealous, beautiful?”
I look away from Logan and back to Zane. “Completely.”
Something lights in his gray eyes. “Well, maybe I do.” He reaches out an arm to wrap around my hips, but I spin out of his reach just as quickly.
“If you have an interest in preserving your ability to perform as anything but a soprano, I suggest you back off right now.”
Logan strides toward us. “Is there a problem here?”
Boone is right behind him, and I’m painfully aware of the clicks of the camera shutters now.
“No problem at all,” Zane says. “You’re a lucky man. If you’re a smart one too, you’ll put a ring on that woman’s finger so the whole world knows she’s taken.”
Logan’s hand lands on the small of my back. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Frisco, you better keep your paws off Brantley’s woman. You want that rust-bucket Challenger of yours to look like my beast, this is the man who can do it.”
“For double,” I add with a pointed look.
Zane’s deep laughter carries through the crowd. When he’s finished, he reaches out his hand to Logan. “No offense meant, man. Zane Frisco. I’d be proud to have a Logan Brantley custom ride.”
Logan pauses a beat before gripping his hand and shaking it. “You try to touch Banner again, and the only Logan Brantley custom ride you’ll get will be to the ER.”
I’m not sure if they’re involved in some kind of handshake standoff, but they finally relax their grips when Zane replies.
“Duly noted.”
Boone grins at Logan. “Thanks for not breaking his hand. He’s my special guest for tonight’s show, and if he can’t play the guitar, he’s pretty worthless.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Logan’s tone is as dry as I’ve ever heard a drawl.
“Let me grab my assistant and send her over to you. She’s got your info for the hotel and the schedule for tomorrow. Have a good time tonight, and we’ll see you tomorrow for all the press shit.”
“Thank you, Boone. Much appreciated.” Logan nods at Zane. “Frisco.”
He throws his arm around me, his hand resting on my ass as he leads me back to the truck and trailer. “Do I need to go back and kick his ass?”
I glance up into Logan’s blue eyes. “Would you if I said yes?”
“Damn right.”
I shake my head. “No need. I can handle myself if necessary.”
Logan’s gaze darkens, and it’s like the alpha-male possessive instincts have been cranked up to ten. “I’ll handle you and anything that comes your way.”
“How about you handle me back at the hotel?”
Chapter 37
Logan
Boone Thrasher went all out, booking us a penthouse suite that’s so badass, even Banner looks impressed.
Ever since we left the arena, Zane Frisco’s words have been playing on a loop in my head. Put a ring on that woman’s finger so the whole world knows she’s taken.
God knows the thought has been on my mind a lot over the last couple of days. Coming to grips with the fact that I could have lost Banner in that fire has clarified everything I want: her and forever.
I’m not a rich man, and I know she deserves more than I can spend right now, especially with a burned-down business and no income, and that just makes it eat at me more.
Maybe I can’t ask the question yet, but I can worship her with my body all the same.
As soon as we walk into the bedroom, Banner goes to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stares out over the sun setting on the city below.
“So beautiful,” she says.
I follow her, pushing her hair aside to press a kiss to her neck. “Very beautiful.”
She turns her gaze up to mine, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I was talking about the city.”
“I can’t say I see anything but the amazing woman in front of me.”
“You’re a smooth talker, Logan Brantley.”
“Only with you.” And it’s the truth. The right woman changes everything.
“I like it when you talk dirty too,” Banner says, her expression morphing into one of downright mischief. Anytime she wants to play, I’m game.
“Then you’re really going to like it when I tell you I’m gonna fuck you against this window, and I don’t care who sees.”
Banner bites down on her lip for a beat before reaching back to skim a hand down my side. “Oh yeah? You want my palms and tits pressed to the glass as you take me from behind so they can see my face when you make me come?”
“I want them to hear you scream my name all the way down on the street.”
She spins around and her hands tear at my clothes. Banner yanks my shirt over my head, and then her fingers go for the button of my jeans, shoving them down.
“Maybe they should see me on my knees first, taking your cock down my throat.”
I groan as she palms my hard dick and kneels. “Fuck yes.” I bury my fingers in her hair as she swipes her tongue over the head. “Mine. All fucking mine.”
She looks up at me. “You mean, mine. I’m never letting you go, Logan Brantley.”
“I wouldn’t let you. I fucking love you, Banner.”
Her smile widens before she takes my dick in her mouth. I keep my eyes locked on hers as she works me with her lips, tongue, and throat. I have to pull away within minutes, because there’s no way in hell I’m coming down her throat.
I pull Banner to her feet and strip her bare. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders in a sexy mess.
“Turn around. We’re going to show them exactly who you belong to.”
She turns toward the glass, and I wrap one hand around her throat and tilt her head back until it touches my shoulder. My other hand circles her nipple, teasing and tugging until she’s writhing into my palm.
“You’re always so fucking responsive.” I leave her tits to go lower, cupping her pussy. “This is mine.”
“Only yours.”
“Always.”
“Yes.”
I find her clit with a fingertip and circle it, bringing her to the edge of orgasm before I say the words that have been on my mind. “I’m gonna marry you, Banner. Give you my name. My kids. This is forever.”
“Yes!” she yells as she comes, and I bury a finger inside her to keep her body on the edge.
When she’s begging for another orgasm, I pull my fingers away and release my grip on her throat to spin her around.
“Say it again.”
“Yes.” Her gaze collides with mine. “Absolutely yes.”
I lift her up and carry her away from the window.
“I changed my mind. This is only for us. No one else gets to see you, hear you. I’m greedy for every single piece of you, and I’ll never have enough.”
I lay her down on the massive bed and hold her gaze as I slide inside her.
“I love you, Logan.”
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it.”
But first, I spend the rest of the night making her repeat her yes over and over again.
This woman is mine.
Forever.
Chapter 38
Banner
The next day passes at lightning speed. The press and all the car magazines lose their mi
nds over Logan’s custom detail work on Boone’s car. I stand proudly to the side as I watch my man get the credit he deserves. At home, there’s a mess waiting for us, but right now, this is all that matters.
Once the press part is over, Boone invites us to come watch his sound checks. Zane Frisco is already onstage completing his when we enter the arena.
“For an arrogant asshole, he’s not a bad performer,” Boone says.
“So, what does that make you?”
The voice comes from the hallway that leads to backstage. We all turn to see Holly Wix step out.
Damn, for giving birth not long ago, she looks amazing. If she wasn’t my best friend’s sister-in-law, I might be a tiny bit jealous when she throws her arms around Logan.
“Look at you. The pride of Gold Haven,” she says.
“I think that’s you, Holly.”
“We can share the title,” she says as she steps back, and then Boone sweeps her up in a hug.
I glance out toward the hallway to see Creighton Karas, her husband, holding a pink bundle in his arms, a possessive look on his face as he watches his wife with the other men.
“Hey, little mama. I wondered when you were going to get here. I haven’t told anyone, as requested,” Boone says.
“Thank you. I thought it’d be easier to get back onstage if no one had any expectations.” When Boone releases Holly, she looks to me. “You must be Banner. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. Thank you so much for watching Gran’s house. With the baby . . .”
“You don’t need to thank me. Thank you for letting me crash my homeless self there. We’re keeping a good eye on it, I promise.”
She looks from me to Logan. “It seems like everything worked out the way it’s supposed to.”
Creighton steps forward. “Banner. Good to see you again, and not in the press.”
His sister is my best friend, and we may have caused a little bit of a PR nightmare once upon a time. I know he secretly thinks I’m awesome, though.
“Come on, Crey. I’ve grown out of that. Well, mostly. There was an incident with a box of dicks in Gold Haven . . .”
Crey shakes his head. “I don’t even want to know, do I?” When I just smile, his attention shifts to Logan and then back to me. “I never would’ve guessed backwoods rednecks were your type.”