Real Good Man (Real Duet #1)

“Nothing. Well, that’s not true. It’s been a shit day, and I know I said I wanted to take you out on a date, but I’m gonna go up to the hospital tonight to see what I can find out, and that’s not where I want to take you. Do you mind if we make it a rain check?”

Even though I’m disappointed by the idea of not seeing Logan tonight, I completely understand where he’s coming from.

“Of course I don’t mind.”

Logan relaxes in the booth. “Thanks, Bruce. This isn’t something I saw coming.”

I reach out and cover his hand with mine. It’s not a gesture that’s normal for me, but with Logan, it feels exactly right. “You do what you need to do. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got enough work to keep me busy for two weeks.”

He threads his fingers through mine and squeezes. “Thanks, Bruce.”

When I move to pull my hand back, he stops me. “You ever going to tell me exactly what that work is?”

The edges of my lips turn up with a smile as I think about all the retirees in the room. “Now really isn’t the time or place. But when you cash in on that rain check . . . I’ll tell you.”

Surprisingly, I’m excited about the prospect of telling Logan.

“It’s a deal. And I promise I’ll make tonight up to you,” he says as he finally releases my hand and stands.

Before I can reply, Logan leans down and presses a kiss to my lips, and I think the entire restaurant freezes at the same moment I do.

Holy crap. Logan’s not messing around with this.

“I’ll talk to you later, Bruce.”

I nod, feeling the weight of all the stares in the room. Logan turns and takes a few steps before pausing.

“You wanna toss those steaks I left at your place in the freezer? We can grill ’em up next time.”

The weight of the stares intensifies.

“That sounds perfect,” I say, keeping my smile intact.

“Catch you later.”

The chime rings as Logan strides out of the restaurant, but all the patrons inside seem to be content continuing to stare at me, including Emmy. But where the rest of them seem curious, she looks enraged.

I push my empty plate away and pull a twenty from my wallet to leave on the table rather than waiting for my bill.

It appears I’ve overstayed my welcome at Home Cookin’.





Chapter 36


Logan


It feels good staking my claim on Banner. I’ve never before had the compulsion to do something like that, but with her, it’s exactly what I want. Gossip is going to happen either way, and she’s proven she’s tough enough to handle whatever comes her way.

I’ve been busting my ass to put the final touches on this Mustang all day, and when the owner shows up and takes a look at his fully restored car and his eyes go glassy, I know I’ve done my job right.

The classic restorations take a lot more labor, but the big fat paychecks make them worth it. Oil changes and routine repairs are my bread and butter, but restorations are what I truly enjoy.

“You guys can call it a night,” I tell Jock and Rick at six thirty. “I’m just waiting for our next project to get dropped off, and that doesn’t take all of us sitting around.”

Both men nod and head for the sinks to scrub away the grease and grime they’ve accumulated through the day.

Rick disappears quickly, but Jock stops before he heads out. “You hear any word on Jeff?”

I shake my head. “Hospital says there’s no change yet.”

“So he could go either way?”

“That’s what they’re saying. I’m heading up there tonight to get more answers.”

“It’s a shame he got caught up in that shit. My cousin’s kid got picked up with some ice. I swear, it’s a f*cking epidemic.”

“It sure seems that way, doesn’t it?”

“Between you and me, there’s a guy in my pool league who all of a sudden is driving a new truck and flashing a lot of cash. I think he’s dealing, but I’m not about to narc on him.”

And that’s the problem with drugs in a small town. Ninety percent of people aren’t going to get involved, even if they know something’s not right. But then again, that’s how the gossip and finger-pointing actually stay at a minimum.

“You got any idea who’s supplying it to him?”

Jock shakes his head. “Nope. Not a clue, but he’s barely trying to hide it now. I’m hoping he figures his shit out and gets clear of it before something like this happens to him. He’s got two kids, man.”

I wonder silently if that’s how Jock’s buddy justifies what he’s doing—making money to give his kids a better life than he had. Around here, there’s not much opportunity for jobs that pay well, aside from the furniture factory and the hospital.

“I hope he gets clear of it too.”

Jock nods and heads out the door while I wash up.

A half hour later, a jacked-up black Chevy truck pulls in with a rusted-out 1969 Oldsmobile 442 on a flatbed trailer. The man who climbs out of the passenger seat is one I’ve only ever seen on TV, and I head outside to meet him.

“Sorry I’m late. Got caught in some traffic outside of Nashville. Who knew Bumf*ck, Kentucky, was so goddamned far away.” His voice sounds just as gravelly as it does when he’s onstage.

“Shit. When I saw ‘B. Thrasher’ on the work order, I didn’t expect to see Boone Thrasher rolling up here.”

The country singer holds out a hand. “We’ve got a mutual friend, and she says you’re the guy to fix up this rusted-out wreck for me.”

Holly Wix is the only person he could possibly be talking about. Seems she’s sending a lot of interesting things into my life lately.

“Oh, she did, did she?”

“So don’t make a liar out of Holly, because I’ll be holding it against her and not you.”

I can tell by his tone that he’s joking . . . sort of.

“I don’t think we’ll have a problem. Let’s go inside, and I’ll grab a sketch pad. This is the kind of project I need to draw.”

“I like you already,” Thrasher says, following me inside.

We spend the next hour talking about his options as I sketch out a rough idea of the design. Black and red. Classic interior, but details unique to Boone, like brass knuckles and skulls. We both stare down at the pad when I finish.

“It’s going to be slick as shit when it’s done,” I tell him. “You’ve got good taste, man.”

Thrasher shrugs. “I got more money than taste, but I’m counting on you not to let it look like shit. You’ve got the reputation to uphold, and if it comes out like I’m thinking, you’re going to have a hell of a lot of business coming your way. I’ll get this beast into every classic-car mag out there, and then people will be bustin’ down your door.”

If Boone Thrasher is true to his word, my business will be changed forever. Not just pushed to the next level, but into the stratosphere. I shove down my excitement because I’ve gotta prove myself first and see what happens.

“Then I better make sure you’re in love with this car when it’s done.”

“f*cking right.”

“You turning around and driving back to Nashville tonight?” I ask as he crosses his arms over his chest and nods.

“Yes, sir. I’ve got a tour kicking off in a couple days, and they get pretty pissed if I’m not on that bus when I need to be.”

I can only imagine what his life must be like.