by Meghan March
Indignation dumps into my veins. “You watch your billionaire mouth, Creighton Karas. I don’t care who your father is. I’ll shove—”
Logan’s arm snakes around my waist and tugs me back against him. “It’s okay, Bruce. We go way back.”
“All right, you two. Enough.” Holly lifts the pink bundle, complete with ear protection, from Creighton’s arms. “No fighting in front of Rose.”
The baby’s tiny nose and perfect rosebud mouth melt away all the F-bombs I planned to drop on Creighton Karas, and I remember what Logan said about kids.
I’ve never had that oh my God, I want one of those feeling before, but it slams into me. Hard.
“Can I hold her?” I’m slightly terrified I just asked, because I’ve never held a baby.
“Of course,” Holly says. “We want her to be comfortable with all sorts of people holding her.”
“Show me how?”
Holly smiles as she places her in my arms. “You’re a natural.”
Logan’s hand presses against me tighter for a beat, and I have a feeling the man is going to try to knock me up as soon as possible. For the first time in my life, the thought doesn’t terrify me.
“Damn. Pretty as a picture, Banner,” Boone says before turning back to Holly. “Crey can handle the baby for a while, right? Let’s run through the song while I’ve got you here.”
“We brought the nanny too.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my daughter,” Creighton replies.
And true to his word, when Rose starts to fuss in my arms, he closes the distance between us and gently takes her from me.
“Hush, sweet girl. Daddy’s here. What do you need?” When she continues to fuss, he says, “Fine. You can have a pony when you’re four. Not a day sooner. You have to wait for the Maserati until you’re sixteen and have taken tactical driving lessons.”
Holly’s laugh echoes off the walls. “God help you if we have any more kids. We’ll be bankrupt if you have to buy them all the stuff you’ve promised her.”
But the baby is quiet, peacefully sleeping in her father’s arms. He shoots Holly a look. “It works.”
“Maybe she’ll want a Mustang like her mama.”
“If she’s anything like her mama, I’m keeping her locked up until she’s forty. Never mind, I’m doing that anyway. Let’s go, sweet girl. Daddy’s taking you back to the tour bus. We’ve got a few more chapters of Millionaire Next Door to pass the time while Mommy does her famous thing.”
If someone had told me two years ago that I’d ever hear those words coming out of Creighton Karas’s mouth, I would have thought they were drunk and popping pills.
Holly shakes her head as he walks down the hallway toward backstage and what I’m assuming is the exit to where the tour buses are parked.
“He bought a new tour bus for the sole purpose of turning half of it into a nursery. I swear, without me, that girl would be spoiled rotten.”
“I think that’s what you call balance.”
“All right, enough baby talk. Let’s go make some music magic, Wix.”
Boone and Holly head for the stage, and Logan and I stay where we are and watch. It is, indeed, magic.
We head back to the hotel an hour later so I can meet the stylist Boone’s assistant is sending over to do my hair and makeup for the concert, but when we hit the lobby, Logan tells me to go ahead by myself because he forgot something he had to take care of.
“If I don’t make it back in time, have the driver take you to the venue, and I’ll meet you there.”
I don’t argue because I know he wants everything to be perfect with the car for Boone’s show. “Go. Do what you need to do.”
He kisses me hard before turning and striding away.
I’m not going to lie and say I don’t watch his perfect ass in those jeans until he disappears from sight.
* * *
BANNER: Heading to the stadium now. You there already?
MY SEXY MAN: I’ll be there soon.
I glance up at the driver through the partition and wonder where the hell Logan is if he’s not at the venue. I figured he was already there working on the car, but maybe I missed him? Who knows.
When the car slows and security waves us through the same back gate Logan and I used yesterday, I tuck my phone back in my purse.
My hair and makeup are perfection, and I’m in love with the silver flowy top, designer jean miniskirt, and handmade dress boots the stylist brought for me as well. I look the part for a country concert.
With my all-access pass around my neck, I head toward the door I left from earlier today, and security waves me through. Boone’s assistant is waiting inside.
“Where’s Logan? Is he behind you?”
“I thought he was already here, but I guess he’s on his way.”
She looks marginally annoyed, probably because we’ve created more work for her, but she hides it well. “If you come with me, there’s a VIP room where you can help yourself to dinner and drinks. I’ll take you to the spot where you can stand and watch the show before Zane goes on.”
I mill around the room where she leaves me, deciding to wait and eat when Logan arrives, but I order a vodka tonic at the bar.
Zane Frisco steps up beside me. “Bourbon. Whatever you’ve got that’s not shit,” he says to the bartender before looking over at me as I squeeze my lemon into my drink.
“I’m surprised your man let you out alone in that.”
“He’s on his way. And we’ve already covered the fact that he’s got nothing to worry about.”
“So, how does a classy piece like you end up with a mechanic from Kentucky?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Someone’s been stalking. You got a crush on Logan now?”
“I’m deciding if I’m going to let him touch my Challenger.”
“You’d be an idiot not to. He’s damn good.” I keep the fact that his shop is now mostly rubble to myself. If Zane doesn’t already know, it’s not my job to fill him in.
A redhead whose nipples are barely covered by her tiny white tank top interrupts us by holding up a Sharpie. “Zane, do you mind signing my shirt?” It reads FRISKY FOR FRISCO across the chest.
Zane takes the marker from her. “I’d be happy to. What’s your name, darlin’?”
I take that as my chance to escape and head across the room where Creighton Karas is walking in, baby carrier strapped to his chest over his custom-tailored shirt. The back of the black baby carrier reads MOMMY’S #1 FAN in pink glittery script.
“Jesus Christ, Crey. Who knew you’d be so domesticated or that a guy with a baby could be so hot?”
“Sounds like you’re heading toward domestication yourself. Greer filled me in this afternoon when we talked. You’re planning on making the move to Kentucky permanent?”
I nod. “I am.”
“Impressive change of pace.”
“Sometimes that’s good.”
“You don’t have to justify it to me. I have a soft spot for that town, if only because it produced the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.” His expression sobers. “But I hear there’s been some . . . less-than-positive things happening there lately.”
I’m not sure if he chooses the oblique way of describing the meth epidemic because of the people hanging around or because of the baby sleeping with her head pressed against him.
“You could say that.”
“What can I do to help?”
In hushed tones, I tell him about the reporter, the police chief, the meth houses, and finally Logan’s shop.
“The reporter and cops have no leads?”
I tip my drink back. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it.”
“I can send a team down there to start investigating. I’ve got a vested interest in that town getting back to normal.”
“We might need it.”
“You need a construction crew to rebuild? I can send two. They’ll have Logan up and running in no time.”
> His generosity stuns me. “Are you serious?”
“It won’t be free, but I won’t gouge him for the rush.”
“Why?”
Creighton gives a slightly bored shrug. “Because I can. And maybe because Logan Brantley helped me realize what was really important in my life.” He cradles Rose’s head, his thumb sweeping back and forth across her downy hair.
“I’ll let him know when he gets here.”
“That would be now.”
I turn to follow Creighton’s gaze and see Logan coming toward me. He’s wearing a black pearl-snap shirt, perfectly worn jeans, black-and-brown cowboy boots, and a Boone Thrasher ball cap with brass knuckles on the front.
Holy. Hell. I want to climb him. Screw the audience.
He stops beside me and leans down to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Sorry I’m late. I had something I had to do.”
“Come find me later, Brantley. We’re going to talk about how fast we can get that shop of yours in business again.” Creighton turns and strides away before Logan can reply.
Logan looks back to me. “Is he serious?”
I nod. “I think he feels like he owes you for something. And here’s the only advice I’m going to give on the subject. When Creighton Karas offers you his help, take it. Especially this time. He might seem like an arrogant jackhole, because he is, but he can also be a pretty decent human being.”
Logan considers me thoughtfully. “I’ll talk to him.” His arm comes around me. “But first, I want to talk to you.” He pulls me away from the crowd and down a hallway.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He leads me into a room where the Olds 442 is waiting for Boone to drive it onstage.
“You need to say good-bye to the car?”
Logan shakes his head. “No. I’ve already done that. She served her purpose, and now she’s his to enjoy.”
“So, what are we doing? Oh shit, you want to break it in one more time? Backstage?”
He shakes his head again. “No. I have to say something.”
His serious tone puts me on edge.
“What’s going on?” Something about Logan seems off, making my nerves ping.
“I would’ve picked somewhere fancier for this, but that’s not my speed. I’m just a guy who works with his hands and happens to have a knack for restoring cars.”
“You’re more than that,” I say, but he holds up a hand so I go silent, wondering what he’s leading up to. My heart rate kicks up a notch in nervous anticipation.
“I was sitting in this car when I realized that if I don’t have you in my life, I don’t have anything, Banner. Everything else I want means nothing if I don’t have you to share it with.”
He pulls something out of his pocket and drops to one knee.
Oh my God. Tears spring to my eyes as he takes my hand and holds up a small silver band with . . . the X-Men symbol on it.
“I can’t buy you the big diamond ring you deserve right now, but someday I will.”
A tear slides down my cheek.
“I love you, Banner Regent, and I want you to be my wife. Marry me.”
Another tear falls as I nod and drop to my knees in front of him. “I don’t want a big diamond ring. I just want you.”
Logan slides the X-Men ring on my finger. “Good, because that’s all I’ve got to offer.”
He cups my face and covers my lips with his. I don’t know how long we stay locked together, but someone eventually clears their throat from behind us.
“Uh . . . sorry to interrupt, but the opening act goes on in ten. We gotta—”
Logan rises and lifts me to my feet before swinging me up into his arms. “We’ll get out of your way.”
He carries me back down the hallway, and we run into Boone as he opens the door to his dressing room.
“Well, fuck. You just had to beat me to it, didn’t ya?”
How does he know? I follow his gaze to my left hand. Well, I guess the ring does give it away.
“Not trying to upstage you, but I’m not apologizing either.”
When Logan lowers me to my feet, Boone slaps him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, you two.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an enormous diamond solitaire. “I’ve never been so damned nervous in my life. Never thought I would be. This next flight better not be late. That’s all I can say. She was supposed to be here three hours ago, but she missed the earlier one.”
“Good luck,” I say, leaning into Logan.
Boone nods and closes the door to his dressing room.
Logan looks down at my ring finger. “I swear, I’m going to get you—”
I lift my hand and press two fingers to Logan’s lips. “No. This is us, Logan. And it’s perfect.”
He moves my finger and rubs his thumb over the X. “I had to play eighteen games of hoops at the arcade to win enough tickets for this bad boy. And it took me three arcades to find the right prize to begin with.”
“That’s why you’re late?” Laughter bubbles up in my throat.
“Damn right.”
I wrap both arms around his neck and kiss the hell out of my future husband.
Chapter 39
Logan
Holly and Boone kill it with their duet, but Boone looks more stressed than ever. From the tizzy his assistant is in, it’s pretty obvious his girlfriend is still a no-show. I feel for the guy, even as I watch with pride as he drives the rumbling Olds 442 onstage, climbs out, and tells the entire crowd the story behind the car.
“Even when she was more rust than metal, I knew she was a diamond in the rough. So I wrote a song, my newest single, and I’m going to debut it here tonight for you.”
The crowd screams in excitement, and he waits for them to quiet down before nodding to the drummer, who counts off the beat.
Boone’s gravelly voice fills the massive space.
I’m gonna take a ride with you
In my 442.
Rolling down the same old roads
Like we always do.
Other things may change,
My love remains the same.
With you by my side
In my new old ride,
In my 442.
He keeps looking toward where we stand as if hoping his girlfriend is going to show, but she doesn’t. When he finishes the song, he tells the crowd good night and God bless before striding offstage without playing an encore.
Banner and I exchange looks.
“That’s not good.”
“Poor guy.”
“I’m sure he’ll figure something out.”
But I’ve got way more important things on my mind than Boone’s woman. “Now, we celebrate.”
Banner’s eyes light with excitement. “What do you have planned?”
“What do you think?”
She glances down at her ring. “It’s my turn to win you a ring, isn’t it?”
“If you’re game.” I pull Banner into my arms.
She presses a kiss to my neck. “I’m game for anything with you.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Even if it’s a cock ring?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
My laugh booms between us. “I guess we’ll see about that.”
Chapter 40
Logan
I turned my phone off on Saturday night as soon as I got to the stadium, so when I turn it back on to check the GPS for the quickest route out of Nashville on Sunday morning, I’m not surprised when a few texts show up.
CODY: Need you at the station Monday morning to answer questions. Better be there.
GRANGER: State investigator and I both think the fire was arson. Not meth. Official report won’t be out until next week, but shit looks bad.
JULIANNE: I need to talk to you. Call me as soon as you get this.
“What do you think Julianne wants?” Banner asks.
“Don’t know, but I’ll call her to find out when we get closer.”
“Do
n’t you think you should call her now?”
I squeeze her hand where it rests on the center console. “I’d prefer to keep reality at bay for a little bit longer, if you know what I mean.”
“I know, babe. But maybe she knows something. If someone deliberately set that fire . . . that’s terrifying. Someone could’ve been killed.”
I know Banner’s right, but I hold off for a few more miles before grabbing my phone and calling Julianne.
She doesn’t answer, so I shove the phone back in the cupholder and crank up the music.
“We’re setting a date before we get out of this truck,” I say as I take the exit toward Gold Haven a few hours later.
Banner looks over at me. “What?”
“You heard me. I don’t want to wait too long. Seeing you hold Holly’s little girl . . . Hell, Banner. That did something to me.”
She laughs. “If you’d said that to me six months ago, I would’ve run. But now, I’m pretty okay with it.”
My phone rings before I can reply. Julianne.
“Hello?”
When no one answers on the other end, I hit SPEAKER.
“Hello?”
“Logan?”
“Yeah.”
“I think we’re getting answers today. Where are you?”
Banner’s gaze clashes with mine.
“Fifteen minutes outside of town. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m following Memphis Lockwood down County Road 45. She just left Home Cookin’ like a bat out of hell while I was getting coffee, so I did too.”
“Julianne, back off. Call Cody. Let him handle it.”
“Can’t. He’s trying to find Chief Timmons. He’s missing.”
“What the fuck?”
“That hypocrite Timmons hasn’t missed a Sunday service in twelve years since he came to town, but he missed today.”
“He could be sick. Hung over. Whatever. That doesn’t mean shit.”
“At Home Cookin’, they said no one has seen him since last night. Cody couldn’t reach him, and he’s not at home.”
“Where are you exactly?”