Real Good Man (Real Duet #1)

I still haven’t heard back from Holly, and I’ve stopped myself from texting Banner all day. I was a dick this morning, and I know it. But realizing how badly I f*cked up by leaving my truck parked out front all night set me off.

In a small town, you’ve got one chance to make a first impression. I know how hard it is to change that impression, and what people are gonna be saying about Banner pisses me off already. The double standard is alive and well, and even more pronounced here. She’ll be branded a slut before she even steps foot out of the house, and it’s all my f*cking fault. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I need to apologize, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to get within firing range of her.

I finally give in to the urge and pick up my phone to text her.



LOGAN: I’m sorry about this morning. I’d like to deliver the apology and explanation in person.





Chapter 27


Banner


Whoever perpetuated the Hollywood ideal that small towns are friendly and welcoming is full of shit.

Everywhere I’ve gone today, which isn’t many places because there aren’t many to go, has been filled with people looking at me like I’m some kind of hooker. And that’s without wearing anything flashy or scandalous. Skinny jeans, heeled boots, and a long pale blue sweater make up my outfit, but the women in this town are eyeing me like I’m walking around in stripper heels and a G-string.

I’m in the grocery store, searching the shelves high and low for organic, non-GMO steel-cut oats, when I finally overhear some of the snide comments that I’m sure have been making the rounds all morning.

“I heard she lured Logan Brantley there by saying it was Holly Wix, and we all know that he’s had a thing for Holly forever.”

“Oh, I bet you’re right, Tricia. Otherwise, he would’ve already put a ring on Emmy Harris’s finger. How long can Logan possibly carry a torch for Holly? She’s married to that billionaire guy now.”

A third voice joins the conversation. “There’s no way he’s carrying a torch for Holly still if he’s banging some New York skank friend of hers. Besides, I heard he told Julianne from Cut a Bitch that he’ll be handling it personally if he hears anyone say a cross word about this mystery woman.”

The first voice replies. “He can handle me personally anytime. I know my way around a man.”

“Hasn’t it been like ten years since you’ve had a real man in your bed? Leave it to someone who doesn’t need pruning shears to be ready for him.”

Wow. These bitches take no prisoners. My curiosity is stronger than my shame, though, because I want to see exactly who’s talking shit about me so I don’t accidentally end up being nice to them later.

I push my cart around the end of the aisle in their direction, and sure enough, there they are. A brassy blonde who desperately needs a better colorist, a brunette, and a woman with salt-and-pepper hair in short curls. All three heads swing in my direction as the wheels of my cart squeak.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your gossip free-for-all, but do you know if there’s a non-GMO or organic section in this grocery store? This New York skank has some standards.”

Two faces pale, as expected when caught in the middle of an epic gossip session, but the brassy blonde straightens her shoulders.

“You’ll probably want to go back to New York for that. Here we just have normal-people food and none of that fancy crap.”

“I’m not leaving anytime soon, so I guess I’ll have to ask Logan to help me find what I need.”

All their eyes widen at the mention of his name.

“It sounds like he already found what you needed,” the blonde says in a snotty tone.

“My G-spot, my clit, and the back of my throat? Absolutely.” With a smile, I turn my cart around and push it in the opposite direction.

Churn that through the gossip mill, bitches. See if I care.

On the way to the checkout, I grab a bag of Doritos and a fifth of Fireball.

*

Contrary to what my parents and probably the rest of the people who know me think, I do work hard. I just never let anyone see that side of things. Why? Because they would laugh me off as being ridiculous if they knew about my current project.

Screw the haters, because I’m going to be a success on my own terms.

I work at the kitchen table until my phone is nearing the end of its battery life, so I have to stand and stretch and go dig out the charger to keep my Internet hotspot going. If I’m going to stay here long term, I need to look into getting Internet service.

Four hours of conference calls later, and I’m done working for the day. There’s always more I can do, but my eyes are bleary from staring at the computer screen all day, and my mind has hit the wall.

Before I got on the phone, I gave in and responded to Logan, but I’ve received zero response to my when and where text.

Maybe he changed his mind?

As much as I would like to think I do, I don’t know Logan that well. A couple of weeks of texting, even if we were at it nearly around the clock, doesn’t add up to knowing how a person is going to react to you showing up in his hometown and saying you’re going to stay a while.

Maybe we need a fresh start. Maybe it’s my turn to find him and offer the olive branch. I close my laptop and go upstairs to change and touch up my makeup before heading out to my rental car.

Thirty minutes later, I’m driving around Gold Haven like a freaking stalker. There’s not even an actual stoplight in this town, only a blinking light. When I pull up to it in front of Logan’s shop and see all his lights are off, my stomach sinks.

I’ve still gotten zero response to my text, and I have no idea where he lives, so that’s out of the question. It’s after eight, and I don’t know where else to look. I take a left at the blinking light, and that’s when I see his truck still parked around the side of his shop, but again, no sign of life inside.

It only takes one swivel of my head to the right to figure out exactly where he’s at—the salon across the street. Through the well-lit window, I see Logan in the stylist’s chair, cape wrapped around his neck. A woman holds her clippers above his head as he throws it back in laughter. She’s laughing too. Logan’s hand slips out from under the cape to wipe at what must be a tear in his eye, and the woman makes a similar movement.

The scene seems to play out in slow motion as I drive away, finally turning my head to stare at the road in front of me.

The reminder hits me hard.

This is Logan’s world. This town is filled with his people.

And I don’t fit in.

The realizations continue to batter me as I brake at the stop sign just ahead before turning back toward my temporary home.

I don’t belong here.

I don’t belong anywhere.





Chapter 28


Banner


The pity party in my rental car is reaching pathetic levels as I pull back into the gravel drive of Holly’s gran’s house and drop my forehead against the steering wheel.

“What now?” I whisper to absolutely no one.