Real Good Man (Real Duet #1)

Logan turns back to the frying pan. “Get the eggs out and whip up the pancake mix. If we’re having bacon, we might as well have a full-blown breakfast.”

Apparently that means the subject is closed. I don’t want to keep it open either, so I pull the box of pancake mix out of the grocery bag and breathe a sigh of relief when it’s one of those just add water kinds. Basically less chance of me screwing something else up tonight.

I open what seems like every cabinet door on my side of the kitchen without finding a bowl before I turn to Logan.

“Do you see any mixing bowls over there? I have no idea where anything is.”

He flips a piece of bacon before opening a cabinet and pulling one out. I cross the room to take it from him, but he holds on.

“You think I would’ve f*cked you in New York if I was f*cking every woman in this town?” His words come out quietly, but with strength behind them.

I tug on the bowl, but he still doesn’t let go. “I’m not asking for an explanation.”

“And here I thought I gave you one before when I said I don’t take everything that’s offered. A lot of these women are looking for a man to provide, and I’m not taking the chance that I’ll knock one of them up and get trapped into being a paycheck for eighteen years.”

“And you weren’t worried about knocking me up?” The question is out before I can take it back.

He shakes his head. “City girl like you, I figured you’d have your shit in order. And I always use a condom.”

“City girl like me . . .” I try the words out. “You mean the slutty kind? The kind that likes one-night stands because they’re easy, and I can get off and walk away without any complications?”

“I didn’t say any of that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

A heavy silence hangs over the kitchen, punctuated only by the popping of the bacon grease. Logan finally releases his hold on the mixing bowl, and I decide that I’m going to get drunk. Surprise, surprise.

I prepare the pancake mix on the opposite side of the kitchen, only approaching Logan to hand it off to him. As I reach for a beer, I see a container of orange juice peeking out from one of the bags. Well, hell, during the great mixing-bowl search, I found a bottle of vodka, and screwdrivers go better with breakfast than beer, in my opinion. I grab the orange juice and return to the cupboard for vodka to mix up my drink.

Logan snags a bottle of beer before he loads up another frying pan with pancakes.

“Want a screwdriver?” I ask, raising the vodka high.

He shakes his head as he pops the top off the beer and takes a swig. “No, what I want is the real story. So, get to it.”

With my screwdriver in front of me, I settle into a chair and lean it back on two legs.

“The real story . . . I got fired from my job, evicted from my apartment, and when my parents wouldn’t bother themselves to help and I couldn’t bring myself to take a handout from a friend, this option came up, and I thought what the hell.”

Logan flips pancakes before glancing over his shoulder. “That’s not exactly a long story.”

“Maybe not, but those are the highlights.”

“So coming here didn’t have a thing to do with me.”

I take a long drink of my screwdriver. Even now, with the warmth of vodka filtering through my body, I’m not sure how to answer that question.

I gesture in the direction of his truck with my glass. “You need another woman after you like I need another stroke of bad luck. Because, damn, that’s a pretty impressive lineup of Suzy Homemakers looking to catch a man.”

Logan steps away from the stove and meets my gaze for a long moment. “Maybe that’s why I like you better. You’re not looking for anything but a good time, and that’s about all I’ve got in me right now.”

His words sting more than I like to admit.

I’m the good-time girl. The party girl. The queen of one-night stands. I’ve embraced the title for the last ten years and earned every bit of it. But something about sitting here in a lilac-wallpapered kitchen with this man makes me wonder if it’s time to try something different.

What the hell? Shut up, Banner. You’re thinking crazy shit.

I take another quick sip, hoping it drowns out the strange feeling, but instead I zero in on Logan’s ass and remember how big and perfect his cock was.

All the screwdrivers in the world won’t stop the freight train of lust roaring through my veins. But maybe that’s a good thing. Lust, I understand. So what if I just want to ride him like a bull?

Logan’s deep drawl interrupts my thoughts. “You gonna make me bribe you with bacon to find out what put that look on your face?”

“I think the one-night-stand rule might need to be temporarily amended to allow a repeat,” I blurt out.

“Is that so?” He turns back to the stove to finish cooking without a change in expression.

My patience for the day is shot, and so is my appetite for subtlety. “What does that mean?”

He reaches for his beer and sucks down a swig. “It means we’ll see what happens. Now, get some plates. It’s time to eat.”





Chapter 23


Logan


Women are strange and unique creatures to begin with, but Banner is in her own league. When she bites into a crispy strip of bacon, the moan she lets out goes straight to my balls, reminding me of what she sounded like when she came on my fingers, mouth, and cock.

Is there any chance I’d turn down a second night with her? No way in hell. From the corner of my eye, I watch her eat as I finish cooking the eggs and then dump some onto both plates.

“It’s probably a good thing you’re not cooking for any of those women looking to tie you down, because they’d get a lot more creative if they knew you could whip this up so easily.”

I laugh at her bluntness. “I’m pretty sure their breakfast-cooking skills are better than mine.”

She lifts a piece of bacon into the air to gesture with it. “But you don’t understand the appeal of watching a man cook. It’s right up there with watching him come when you’re on your knees between his legs.”

I choke on my first bite of egg before my vision clouds with red at the thought of her getting another guy off. Something about Banner trips the trigger on my control. I don’t f*cking care how many guys she’s been with, but I sure as shit don’t want to hear about them.

“Then I guess you’re going to have to drop to your knees in front of me and compare.” I don’t know where the words came from, but her eyes lift to mine and she blinks.

I like that shocked look on her face, the one she’s probably more used to seeing on others, given her lack of filter.

Her surprise fades away just as fast, and Banner is back on her game. “Oh yeah, big boy? You think you could manage to stand and not let your legs give out?”

My cock presses so hard against the zipper of my jeans that it might leave a permanent mark, but I refuse to let her get the last word in.