Real Sexy: Book 2 of The Real Dirty Duet

by Meghan March

  There’s a different light in Ripley’s eyes when she looks up at me. “That’s really cool of you. So you don’t just rescue women with sprained ankles and take them to the hospital against their will? You’re quite the do-gooder despite your bad-boy reputation.”

  Ma cranes her head to get a better look at me when she hears what Ripley says, and I swear I see approval on her face. “He’s as good as it gets, Ripley, and I’m not saying that just because he’s my son.”

  After we pay for our tickets, we spot Grant and Wendy waving from the grandstands where they’ve saved us seats with a couple of plaid blankets. Usually it’s Ma and Dad who do the seat saving, because Grant and Wendy are late more often than not since Kyle was born five years ago, but they managed to pull it together tonight.

  “There’s Arlene and Arty Johanson. Rand, we gotta go say hello so I can ask about their new grandbaby. She was over the moon to finally have a first.”

  Dad knows how Ma is about keeping a finger on the pulse of what’s happening in town, so he just says, “Lead the way, Susie-Q.”

  She glances at me. “We’ll be back in a few.”

  “Take your time, Ma.”

  The crowd thickens as we near the grandstands, and I reach down and curl my hand around Ripley’s, in part to keep her close, but also because I like it. When we reach the foot of the stairs that will take us up to our seats, a voice stops me.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Look who lowered himself to come home and mingle with the common folk.”

  Ripley’s head turns sharply in the direction of the drawl coming from inside the metal stock fence that separates the rodeo action from the crowd.

  “I thought you just got yourself dumped, Boone? You already moved on to greener pastures? Must be nice being such a hotshot that the ladies can’t keep their hands off you.”

  I squeeze Ripley’s hand before releasing it in favor of draping an arm around her shoulder and turning to face the skinny man in jean shorts five sizes too big held up by hot-pink suspenders. The uniform of a rodeo clown, and the description fits him perfectly. Lou Biggler never quite forgave me for that one night his sister sneaked her way into my truck and I politely told her to get out. He tried to beat the hell out of me in phys ed the Monday after, but I gave him a black eye instead and we both got suspended.

  “Hey, Lou. Thanks for saying hi. Good to see you.”

  I attempt the polite route, even though I’d rather tell him to fuck off. But he’s the type who’d sell any dirt to the papers for a dollar.

  “How long’s this one gonna last? I swear, you had a record with the last one, but it turned out she was a little too smart for you since she decided to jump ship.”

  I don’t acknowledge his comments. Instead, I put to work the gossip Ma still feels the need to share with me regularly. “I hear you’re on divorce number three, Lou. Hope that’s goin’ smoothly. Good luck with the custody battle this time around. Maybe four will be your lucky number.”

  Lou’s clown-painted face twists into a harsh smirk. “You just love to come back to this town and act like King Shit, but we all know you’re nothing special. Anyone could sing into a microphone and let those computers fix their voice. I hear they do it all the time. Shit, it’s harder to stand in front of the damn bulls that’ll be coming out tonight. If you had a real pair of balls, maybe you’d be out here instead of me.”

  “Nah, Lou. You got big enough balls for both of us. Makes sense why you gotta wear the extra-large shorts to cover those massive nuts.”

  He reaches down and grabs his crotch, apparently uncaring that there are little kids present. “They’re just keeping up with the size of my massive—”

  “Louis Biggler, you better not be about to say what I think you’re gonna say.” Ma’s voice cuts through the crowd before I can respond. “Because I know a father like yourself would never use any kind of foul language around children.”

  Lou straightens up real quick, dropping his hold on his dick. “No, ma’am. We’re just catchin’ up for old times’ sake. Didn’t mean no harm.”

  “That’s what I thought. You be careful out there tonight. We need to make sure you get home in one piece to those little angels of yours.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Will do, ma’am.”

  Ma turns to Ripley and me. “Let’s get our seats, shall we?”

  She leads the way up to the third row where Grant and Wendy and Kyle are seated, and I throw a last glance back at Lou. His eyes are narrowed on me like he hasn’t forgotten a damn thing, and his chin lifts when he sees my look. Some people never lose the chip on their shoulder.

  When we slide down the row to take our seats on the blanket Grant laid out, he gets up to run Kyle to the bathroom. Wendy says she has to pee too, and my parents offer to get drinks and popcorn for everyone.

  “That guy was interesting,” Ripley mutters once we’re alone.

  I press a kiss to her temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “That’s small-town life for you right there. He’s been harboring a grudge since our junior year of high school.”

  “Sounded to me like he’s jealous.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. A lot of these people still remember me as a punk kid who drove a loud truck too fast and took out a few of their mailboxes, or maybe believed a rumor that I got their daughter or sister or cousin in the backseat. That’s where it ends for them. Then they see me on TV and can’t figure out how that punk kid got so damn lucky to be living the good life. Doesn’t seem fair, I expect.”

  Ripley’s brows draw together. “Do they not realize that you paid your dues to climb to the top? Or how hard you bust your ass to stay where you are? Or what you sacrifice to be away from your family? Or what it’s like to have the paparazzi threatening to capture any moment of your life you think might be private? If they don’t see all that, they’re only getting a fraction of the picture.”

  Hearing Ripley leap to my defense so quickly and with such ferocity tells me that I’m making progress. It also turns me way the fuck on. I shift to face her and lift her chin before stealing a kiss.

  “It sounds like you might actually like me,” I murmur against her lips.

  “Shut up. You know I like you.”

  I pull back a fraction of an inch and meet those stormy gray eyes. “I’m wearing you down. Pretty soon, you’re gonna fall in love with me.”

  26

  Ripley

  Boone’s words crash into my chest, and instead of causing a heart attack, they kick off a cascade of warmth that envelops me. This time, I’m the one who leans in and presses our lips together.

  “Get a room, Thrasher!”

  The call comes from below us, and I jerk back and look around. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Crap. There could be pictures—” I’m ready to curl up with embarrassment when Boone lays his hand on my thigh and squeezes.

  “Let ’em watch. You’re my girl, and I don’t give a damn who knows it. Especially not this asshole.”

  A big man approximately the size of a grizzly bear shakes the bleachers as he stomps up the three steps toward us.

  “Damn, brother. It’s been a coon’s age!”

  Boone stands and does this backslapping man-hug thing with the guy, and I’m worried that the giant might knock him down. Boone’s over six feet tall, and yet this guy looks like he’s around six eight with shoulders that are massive.

  “Jerry Lee, you’re gonna break my damn back one of these days.”

  “Nah, you can take it, tough guy. You didn’t tell me you were coming back to town. I just heard the gossip running through the crowd all the way up at the announcer booth.” He finally glances over at me. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you? Boone, how you always finding the most beautiful women to take around? Do I need to sell a million damn records before I finally find a winner?”

  Boone laughs his ass off. “No, man. You just gotta quit hanging out at the lodge with all the old men.”

  I hold out my hand. �
��I’m Ripley.”

  “Damn, even your name is super cool. I swear, this joker gets all the luck. You another country star, sweetness? Those lips and eyes could sell me a record without even hearing your voice.”

  “Hey now, reel it in. I’m not letting you put the moves on my girl right in front of me.”

  From his tone, I can tell Boone is joking, but also that his buddy likes the idea that he could put the moves on me, and Boone does it to puff up his ego. I’ve seen plenty of male posturing and weird behavior in the bar, so this isn’t exactly new territory for me.

  “I’m a bartender,” I say. “I don’t know about a record, but I could sell the crap out of some Jack and Coke.”

  “Shit, I guess I need to start spending a lot more time in bars.”

  Boone sits down and slides his arm around me again. “You ain’t gonna find another woman like her. Guaranteed. So, what’s going on, Jer? You came all the way down from the announcer stand to try and steal my girl? Because I’m not letting you snake this one like you did Cindy Hooper.”

  “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

  “Hell no.”

  Jerry Lee shrugs and looks at me. “Cindy Hooper was the head cheerleader, and Boone here thought he had her in the bag. Turns out, he counted on that one too quick.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Ha, like you care. You’ve obviously upgraded, and Cindy’s married to a garbage man in Chattahoochee. I think things turned out for the best. Besides, that’s not why I came down here. When I heard you were in town and visiting our fine little rodeo, I knew I had to ask you to do the honors.”

  “What honors?” I ask.

  “Sing the national anthem, of course.” He looks at Boone expectantly. “What do you say, man? Give the town a show?”

  “I’m not here to attract attention, Jer. I wanted Rip to meet my folks and have a fun weekend.”

  “You’re about as good at laying low as I am at gettin’ dates. Look around, everyone’s already talking ’bout y’all. Might as well give ’em a show.”

  Boone looks to me. “You mind?”

  “Me? No, of course not.” I’m shocked he’d even ask, and then I remember he was used to being with Amber Fleet. One guess says she was a diva who didn’t like having him take the spotlight off her. “Go do your thing. Give them all something to talk about in church tomorrow. Besides, you can show that asshole Lou that you don’t need Auto-Tune.” I shoot him a wink.

  A smile stretches over Boone’s face. “You’re so goddamn perfect, it’s almost scary.”

  “So that’s a yes?” Jerry Lee asks.

  “That’s a yes.”

  “Hot damn! This’ll get the rodeo on the front page for sure now. We’ve been trying to beat out the garden club’s annual election, and this seals it. Come on down with me, and I’ll get you set up.”

  Boone stands up and looks around. His parents, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew are all still gone. I can read the hesitation on his face.

  “Go. It’s fine. I’m a big girl.”

  “They’ll be back in a few.”

  “I’ll hold down the fort. Go give ’em a show, superstar.”

  Boone leans down and wraps a hand around my neck before pressing a hard kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

  He follows Jerry Lee down the bleachers, and I’m left alone with the blankets.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see the day when Boone Thrasher finally found himself a keeper.”

  I turn around to see an older woman, probably about Boone’s mom’s age, with her arms crossed and an aluminum Budweiser bottle hanging from between her fingertips.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Trudy Miles. Boone’s unofficial godmother. But damned if that boy was gonna notice me tonight when he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but you. And you don’t seem to have nearly as big a stick up your ass like the last one.”

  “Trudy, you keep your tongue in your head.” Boone’s mom stops beside me, her arms full of three bags of popcorn. “Where the heck did that boy get off to, leaving you all alone?”

  “He went to sing the national anthem, ma’am.”

  “She even calls you ma’am, Susie. How precious. You better tell that boy to keep this one. She doesn’t seem like a bitch.”

  I’m officially in the twilight zone, caught between two ladies who clearly have a lot of history, and I’m fresh out of words.

  “As long as Boone likes her, we’re happy for him.” It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement from Mrs. Thrasher.

  She takes a seat, and Boone’s dad comes up the steps with four Bud Lights.

  “Where the hell did Boone go?”

  “National anthem,” his mom says, repeating the answer I gave her.

  “Really? I’m surprised. He didn’t want to last time.”

  “Well, we all know why that was.”

  It has to be because of Amber. I want to ask, but it’s not my place.

  Mr. Thrasher hands me a Bud Light. “Knew that girl was a diva from the minute they pulled up, and she screamed and practically climbed Boone to get away from Buford.”

  “Oh, shush. She’s in the past and we can all be happy about it, but we don’t need to bring her up every five minutes. We don’t want to make Ripley uncomfortable.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “I know this whole thing must seem a little fast—”

  Of course, Boone’s brother chooses that moment to return to his seat with his wife and son in tow.

  “You think? He’s barely been single for five minutes before he shows up with you. He’s always rushed into shit. Remember when he used his fake ID at the Army recruiter’s office?”

  Boone’s dad speaks up. “I rushed your ma. Proposed on the second date. Took me until the fifth to get her to say yes. Ain’t nothing wrong with going after what you want.”

  “Still, I think he needs some time to sort his shit out.”

  I don’t know what possesses me to add my two cents to a conversation that clearly doesn’t need my input, but I do anyway. “Boone seems to know his own mind.”

  Grant’s skeptical gaze skewers me. “If he does, then you certainly won the jackpot in the lottery of life. He better get a damn prenup.”

  Even though I should expect it, the venom in his words catches me off guard. “Are you serious? You think I’m trying to hook up with him for his money?” I try to keep my voice down, but the accusation makes my tone grow shrill.

  “You had a job when you hooked up with him, and now you don’t. I feel like that’s no accident,” Grant says.

  Boone’s brother is kind of a dick.

  “Because he decided to have an impromptu show in my bar, it got shut down by the fire marshal for overcapacity, and then I got my ass reamed and ended up losing the job I’ve had since before I was old enough to legally work. My entire future was tied up with the Fishbowl, and after your brother’s help one night, I ended up homeless and unemployed.”

  Grant’s brows dive into deep slashes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You want more? I took a job working for a friend who let me sleep on her futon. I was back at work behind another bar as fast as I could get there so I could earn some money, because I sank my entire savings into keeping my family business afloat. So don’t tell me I’m looking to Boone for a handout. I was pissed that he arranged for me to get this weekend off because the tips are better on Friday and Saturday, and I’m missing out on a chance to hopefully save up for a deposit on my own place.”

  Mrs. Thrasher tilts her head and shakes a finger at her son. “Grant, what have I told you a million times? You know better than to judge.”

  He crosses his arms. “Let’s just say after that last one left him hanging when he was gonna propose, I’m a little protective of my brother.”

  “Good. That’s great. But I’m not a damn thing like her. I’ve worked my ass off, and even though I don’t have jack crap to show for it right now, I
will someday.” I infuse all my determination in my words.

  “I like her,” Boone’s dad says before he takes a swig of beer. “She’s feisty. She’ll keep Boone on his toes and stop him from getting too impressed with himself.”

  Mrs. Thrasher opens her mouth to say something else, but the announcer’s deep voice booms through the speakers.

  “You all ready for a rodeo tonight?”

  The crowd cheers in response.

  “Then let’s get this show started! We’ve got a special guest here to kick us off with the national anthem. Please stand, remove your hats, and face the flag at the north end of the arena. Here’s Nashville recording artist and hometown hero, Boone Thrasher, to sing it for y’all.”

  Boone walks into the arena from the direction of the chutes, microphone in hand, and that deep gravelly voice silences the crowd.

  With my hand over my heart, I face the flag, but my eyes are glued to Boone. The national anthem isn’t exactly the easiest song to sing, but he kills it. Shivers run down my spine as he belts it out. The entire crowd cheers as he reaches the end, and then start chanting his name. “Boone! Boone! Boone!”

  Boone turns and waves to the crowd as the rodeo clowns come running out, ready to entertain the masses.

  Then all hell breaks loose.

  27

  Boone

  I hear it before I see it. The clang of metal against metal as they load a bull into the chute, and the slamming of a solid ton of weight against the gate.

  I whip around to see the gate fly off as the hinges fail. Then my eyes zero in on the pissed-off bull’s horns and the snot dripping from its nose as its hooves thunder toward me.

  Lou is closer to the bull, his back to it as he faces me. I don’t know if he’s been momentarily struck deaf, but he doesn’t turn around.

  “Lou!” When I yell his name, he looks at me instead of the bull.