by Meghan March
She tsk-tsks before pulling it free. “No need to get jealous. I’m sure by now more than half the town is well aware that I’m getting the good dick, and it’s not this fake one.”
I pause as I lean down to pull off my other boot. “Come again?”
Banner proceeds to tell me what I missed this afternoon at Home Cookin’.
It’s official; she’s the perfect woman. No one else could possibly make me laugh so much while my dick is this hard.
“Jesus, Bruce. You never cease to amaze me.” I slide off my remaining boot and reach for the button of my jeans.
“I think it’s time you show me what that thing can do. Can it make you scream like me?”
“I guess we’ll see.”
I tug my shirt over my head, and shove my jeans and boxer briefs off my hips before kneeling on the bed and trailing a finger down Banner’s impressive cleavage. “I don’t think I’ve paid these perfect tits nearly enough attention lately.”
She smiles up at me as she drags the toy over her clit. “Then by all means . . . feel free.”
Banner pushes the toy into her pussy, and part of it buzzes over her clit while I lean down and suck one nipple through the red lace. When it puckers exactly the way I want, I switch to the other and give it the same attention.
Her eyes are closed, and I take a moment to appreciate every inch of this incredible woman. Her head tilts back on the pillow and her hips buck into the air as she moans my name over and over, each time louder than the last.
It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
When she finally comes, my cock is harder than tempered steel, and pre-cum leaks from the tip.
Banner’s head falls to the side, and I cover her hand on the toy with mine. “It’s my turn to make you scream my name.”
Her eyelids flick open. “Bring it.”
I slide the toy free of her body, unable to resist lowering my head to taste how fucking sweet she is. Within minutes, she’s writhing against my face, ready to go off again.
“How can you do this to me?”
I pull back and notch my cock into her entrance. “Because you were fucking made for me.”
And with that declaration, I drive home, the word mine on my lips.
Chapter 26
Banner
BANNER: Can you die from too many orgasms?
BEST BITCH Now you’re just bragging.
BANNER: Maybe a little.
BEST BITCH: You’re lucky I love you, AND that I’m having all the amazing orgasms of my own that I can handle.
BANNER: Love you too, G. Miss you.
BEST BITCH: Miss you too. xo
I lay my phone on the side table and roll over in bed. I’m not sure I’m capable of having another orgasm for at least twenty-four hours. Logan kept me up most of the night, fucking me over and over. At first, I thought it was a man-pride thing, wanting to prove that my vibrator couldn’t compete with him, but when he pushed into my ass and grabbed the vibrator to play with my pussy, I changed my mind. He was trying to kill me with pleasure.
My entire body is so languid, I’m not sure I ever want to get out of this bed. The shower shuts off, and Logan walks out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a towel.
I decide I was actually waiting in bed for this very sight. My lady parts, which got the most intense workout of their life last night and should be in hibernation, tingle with appreciation.
A drop of water slides between his pecs and down his tight, flat stomach. Suddenly, the will to move springs into my limbs, if only to chase that droplet with my tongue.
“It’s not fair that you can look that good after stepping out of the shower. I should have a CLOSED FOR BUSINESS sign over my vagina after last night, but now I want to climb you.”
Logan’s grin doesn’t help smother my urge.
“My dick should be broken from how many times we went at it last night, but one look at you all curled up in my bed will always get me hard again, Bruce. You’re fucking beautiful, no makeup, wild hair, and that sexy hunger in your eyes.”
His words fill my chest with warmth. “Damn, you sure know how to make a girl feel pretty in the morning.”
Logan shakes his head. “Not pretty. Beautiful.”
“Charmer.”
“Only for you.”
I sit up, holding the covers to my chest. “So, what’s next on your agenda?”
“Besides wishing I could stay in bed all day with you?”
He and I both know with his deadline coming up at the end of the week and my new sample products here, that’s not an option. Sometimes being a responsible adult sucks, but I guess the tradeoffs make it worth it. Most of the time.
“I gotta get the Olds over to the paint shop, which is going to be a bitch without any interior, and hope like hell they can execute the design I drew for them.”
I’m hoping they can too because I know how much Logan has riding on this car. “It’ll be perfect. I have faith.”
“What about you?”
“A call with the factory since I’ve tried out the final samples and know they work great.” I shoot him a wink. “Another call with my marketing firm to finalize a launch date once I have expected production dates from the factory. Basically, a shit load of work that I can’t wait to tackle.”
Maybe adulting doesn’t suck so bad after all. There’s something totally different about working for yourself instead of working for someone else that makes busting your ass not suck.
“Good for you, babe. We both have a full plate right now.”
I don’t mention that I have to talk to my financial adviser and lawyers too because there are more things I have to sign to complete the transfer of all of Myrna’s property to me. Logan and I haven’t really discussed my inheritance again, and I haven’t been in a hurry to bring it up. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.
When I was semi-broke and needing to live in Holly’s gran’s house because I got evicted from my apartment, he didn’t have an issue with me. Although, I didn’t tell him my being broke was a temporary thing regardless because of my trust fund, but then again, he didn’t need to know that either. I’m still exactly who I am. Having a safety net that’s not capped on an annual basis doesn’t change a whole lot, except now I can invest more in my business.
When Logan drops his towel in front of the dresser, all thoughts evaporate from my brain except holy shit, that man is perfection.
I scoot to the edge of the bed. “If you want to bring that beautiful dick over here, I think I can make this morning a whole lot better for both of us.”
* * *
After Logan leaves the house a very happy man, I shower and toss my stuff in my bag before heading out to my car to go home. Never in my life have I considered moving in with a guy, but this going-back-and-forth stuff is getting old. We’ve said the “I love yous,” and I know Logan would flip his shit if I suddenly planned to leave Gold Haven, but we haven’t exactly gotten to the discussion of where we go from this point.
It’s completely foreign territory to me. Relationships weren’t exactly on the Banner Regent to-do list, so I have no actual clue what comes next. I have a feeling moving in together is the next logical step, but I’m not going to bring it up. What if he doesn’t want me in his space all the time?
I can picture me saying something about it and then awkward silence coming from Logan.
Nope. Definitely not going there.
One thing I’ve always done is rush headlong into things without stopping to consider the consequences, but this I don’t want to rush and screw up.
Or maybe I’m just being a wimp about it because I can’t face the idea that maybe Logan would be happy to keep things exactly the way they are.
I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.
In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the now.
Chapter 27
Logan
“Boss, you got a visitor.” Jock’s voice echoes across the garage
to the back corner where my office is hidden.
Now that I’m waiting on the paint shop and the upholsterer to do their parts in making Boone’s 442 kick ass, I’m playing catch-up on some of the other things I let slide around the shop. Namely, all the shit piled on my desk. There’s a landslide of paper, and even though I’ve been sorting for ten minutes, you can’t tell I’ve touched a thing. Jock’s interruption is welcome at this point.
I step out of the office and make my way across the shop. Rick is finishing up a brake job for one of the ladies who works at the pharmacy, so at least there’s some money coming in today. Jock winks at me as he steps out of the doorway between the garage and the customer waiting area.
What the hell?
I step inside to find a brunette in a black trench coat waiting with a notepad tucked under her arm. The reporter. I recognize her from the crowd the other day.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Jock says. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Lockwood.”
She nods at him and then extends a hand to me. “Hi, Mr. Brantley. I’m Memphis Lockwood of the Investigation Network. Thank you for making time to speak with me. I really appreciate it.”
“I haven’t agreed to speak with you yet.”
Her shoulders stiffen only the slightest at my blunt statement, but it doesn’t put her off.
“Don’t write me off just yet, Mr. Brantley. I’m not here to cause trouble. I received an anonymous tip a few weeks back that there was something of an epidemic happening in Gold Haven, and the local police aren’t doing much about it. The newsroom didn’t become interested until I did some digging and found the connection to Holly Wix. Just like that, I had a story I wanted to tell, and the network was happy about the prospect for ratings.”
Out of everything she says, one thing stands out. An anonymous tip? From who?
She’s waiting for a response, so I go with the most basic one. “My name’s Logan or Brantley, but not Mr. Brantley.”
“Okay, Logan. Is there anything you can tell me about what’s going on?”
“I don’t know any more than what I’ve heard on the radio, Ms. Lockwood.”
“You can call me Memphis, and I’m not sure I believe that completely. It seems like you’ve got a central location, and most of the townspeople stop in here at one point or another. I’m sure you’ve heard your share of gossip.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “We get plenty of traffic, but I don’t have any answers for you.”
“And yet the police have interviewed you more than once in connection to the case.”
“Where did you hear that?”
She nods toward the shop. “Your employee was very helpful. I understand you used to be related to a man who had a near-fatal overdose, and actually helped save his life. And what’s more, the body of one of your former employees was found in a meth-house fire. Is that correct?”
Jock needs to learn to keep his goddamned mouth shut.
“That’s all true, but there’s nothing more I can tell you than what I told the cops. I hadn’t seen Jeff since the last time he came around wanting money, and Roy Planter hadn’t worked here in months.”
“But still, the connections—”
“You’re in a small town, Ms. Lockwood. You don’t have to look hard to find connections between most people. This is the kind of place where the majority of people stay put rather than leave.”
“So you wouldn’t say that your connection to Nicole Hiram is worthy of discussing either, even though Officer Reeves questioned her Saturday night? I understand she used to work here as well on occasion, and you’ve been friends for a long time.”
I give the reporter a hard look. “What is it you want from me, ma’am? You want me to speculate on who I think is responsible? Because I don’t have a clue. If I did, maybe Cody could go out and arrest him, because we all know Timmons isn’t doing jack shit.”
“The lack of concern from the police chief about my anonymous tip is what really got me interested. There’s nothing I like less than people with power not using it the way they’re supposed to.”
“Then we agree on that. There’s nothing else I can tell you that you probably haven’t heard from someone else.”
“But I want to hear it from you, Mr. Brantley. You know the players. You have a stake in this town getting back to normal.”
“If I knew who had a hand in all this, you better believe I would do something about it. You don’t have to ask too many people to find out that Jeff wasn’t smart enough to mastermind his way out of a paper bag, let alone some kind of drug operation. Or that Roy Planter was an alcoholic who needed money, and his morals weren’t the best, especially when he was desperate.”
“And what about Nicole Hiram?”
“She’s one of the hardest-working people I know, and if you want me to believe for a minute that she’s got something to do with this, you’re wasting your breath.”
The reporter furiously scrawls notes on her pad, and looks up at me when she stops. “But what about the bowling alley? I’ve been told she’s trying to raise money to buy it.” She looks down at her pad. “Pints and Pins. Isn’t that enough motive in itself?”
Again, the memory of Nicole trying and failing to buy something at the pharmacy the night Banner and I were there for lube comes back to me.
Still, I’m firm when I reply. “No. It’s not. Because if she was looking for an easy way out, she would’ve taken it long before now. I’ve got a lot of work to do today, ma’am, and I really need to get back to it.”
She flips her notepad shut and meets my gaze. “Mr. Brantley. Logan. This isn’t a witch hunt being sensationalized for national TV.”
“Then why the hell are you here?”
“Because I’m from a small town in the Midwest that’s not much different from Gold Haven, and if this were happening in my town, I’d want to know who was behind it. A huge cross-section of our viewing public can relate to the issues this town is facing. Meth is a nationwide epidemic, especially in our rural areas. I’m hoping that if people can see Gold Haven succeed at getting back to normal, it’ll give my viewers hope as well.”
Her impassioned speech finally gets through to me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to offer up any idle speculation without facts.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Ms. Lockwood. But you’re better off talking to the cops and firemen who’ve been dealing with the crime scenes directly. They’re the ones who are going to be able to give you the most information. I’ve got nothing else I can tell you.”
“So that’s a no to being interviewed on camera?” she asks, a smile twitching her lips because she already knows what I’m going to say.
“No, thank you. But go look up Granger Ryan down at the fire station. He might actually have something useful for you.”
She tucks her notepad under her arm and shoves her pen in her pocket. “Already tried. He declined to comment.”
“Then I guess you’re shit out of luck for the moment.”
She flashes a smile. “You don’t know much about reporters, do you, Mr. Brantley? We’re a tenacious breed. I didn’t get to where I am by letting people stonewall me. I’m going to figure this out. Maybe I’ll stop by and chat with Mr. Ryan and Officer Reeves again. They don’t understand how determined I am, but they will.”
“Good luck to you, ma’am.”
Memphis Lockwood nods and turns for the door.
God help Granger and Cody.
I have a feeling Memphis Lockwood is a pit bull when she locks onto something.
Chapter 28
Logan
On Wednesday, I’m back on the road to Nashville to pick up the seats. I have to get them back to my shop and in the car after the paint’s done before I turn around and drive my truck and trailer back down this same road to deliver the Olds 442 to Boone Thrasher.
The miles don’t matter, though, only the final product does. With my eyes fixed on the road, I let my mind wander a little in the
quiet of the truck about how much this one job could change things for me.
Getting my shop on the map is all it takes. High-end restorations carry a hefty enough price tag that I might be able to expand and hire a few more guys.
There’s a kid at the trade school one town over who called yesterday morning to see if I’d consider taking him on part time, and it sucked to say that I couldn’t just yet, but to give me a few months and check back.
For me, owning a business isn’t just about making money and being respectable, it’s about how I can use my business to help the people in the community too. I need to hire someone to deal with clients and paperwork, but I’ve been holding off until I know I won’t have to let someone go as quick as I hire them. I also need a few more techs to deal with a heavier volume of cars and to shorten our turnaround time. Hell, I’d even love to have my own paint shop someday so I could keep that piece of the work in-house and have more control over it.
My dreams are big, but right now, I gotta focus on what’s possible.
Then there’s Banner.
The woman inherits $30 million and barely even mentions it beyond calls with a lawyer and a financial adviser here and there. Maybe that’s the difference between people who’ve always had money and people who haven’t. Sure, her parents cut her off when she was in college, but maybe it’s something that’s ingrained in you. I’ve never had it, so I can’t say.
I should be relieved that Banner’s attitude hasn’t changed since she got that money. I mean, shit, if anyone in Gold Haven won the lottery tomorrow, which is essentially what she did, they’d be driving a brand-new car and flashing it all over town. Banner’s still driving the rental car Holly and Creighton leased for her.
Speaking of which, my woman needs better wheels than a Toyota Camry, but it’s not something she’s ever complained about.
Banner is a surprise on every level. The way she’s adapted to living here is nothing short of a miracle. There’s no Starbucks on every corner, and no sushi unless you eat the fish raw you caught yourself, which I wouldn’t recommend. Other than a comment here and there about something she misses in New York, Banner seems to be settling in well.
