She gives me a look that saysoh really?“A Hot Pocket doesn’t count as real food.” She slides by me, the bucket of chicken crushing around the edges between us.
“You’re bound to get grease all over yourself if you’re not careful.”
She looks back and winks at me. “A little grease isn’t gonna hurt a real woman. I like getting dirty.”
Banner’s blunt message comes back to me.A real man would have her begging him instead, right? I know you would.
She called it right, because there was nothing I like more than a woman at my mercy, begging for relief.
I glance at where my phone waits in my toolbox, and wonder if Banner has responded with her address or if she’s gonna chicken out on me.
I don’t have time to think about it for long because Julianne drops the bucket of chicken on the workbench and pulls two stools together. She twists the top off the Wild Turkey and takes a swig before holding it out to me.
“Today has been for shit. One of my stylists got into it with my nail tech and they both walked out, leaving me to deal with the mess of appointments they had scheduled. I could’ve gone home and eaten my fried chicken alone on my couch, but that would put me in an even worse mood than I’m in now, so just fucking humor me, Logan.”
I take the bottle from her and twist the cap back on before grabbing a piece of chicken from the bucket.
“At least you don’t have to worry that I’m using food to try to trap you into a ring like Emmy Harris. I just want some company.”
I almost choke on my first bite of chicken at the mention of Emmy Harris, the manager of Home Cookin’ who brings apple dumplings and peach pie to the shop on what seems like a regular basis. It started out innocently about nine months ago when I got so frigging busy I didn’t have time to go home and cook for myself, and ended up at Home Cookin’ damn near every day of the week.
Emmy talked me into taking her to the movies a couple of times, and dinner somewhere other than Home Cookin’ once, but when she started dropping hints about wanting to see each other exclusively and talking about how the house she’s building would be great for a family, I backed off. I thought we were friends, but she seems to have developed different ideas. It helps that I’ve been too busy to go on a date anyway, so my excuses to her haven’t been complete BS.
Especially since I’d rather work my ass off and take random breaks to text a woman I’ve never met.
Yeah, I’ve got no explanation for that.
The more I think about it as I pack away the greasy chicken, I decide there’s something seriously wrong with me. I’ve got flesh-and-blood women in Gold Haven who understand exactly the kind of man I am, but instead here I am getting ready to drive to New York because I need to satisfy my curiosity about Banner. She’s from a totally different world, and we’re not going to have a damn thing in common, but even that knowledge isn’t stopping me from doing it.
Julianne knocks back another shot of Wild Turkey, not expecting or waiting for a reply from me, which is smart. I don’t have a whole lot to say when my thoughts are all twisted around Banner.
Why am I pushing this with her?
Because there’s something about her I can’t get out of my mind.
One trip. One meeting. That’s all I need, and I’ll know exactly how ridiculous this has been from the beginning.
My phone buzzes from its spot in the open lid of my toolbox, and both Julianne and I look toward it.
“Someone who’s going to be jealous that I’m sitting here?”
Would Banner be jealous?I have no fucking clue. I wipe my hands and reach for it.
Instead of the address I asked for, I get a different message.
BANNERNYC: Are you serious?
I give her the truth.
LOGAN: Yes. Friday. It’s time we meet in person.
I wait for a moment, but when her reply doesn’t come right away, I put the phone back in its place and respond to Julianne.
“A friend.”
“Does she know she makes you light up like that? Or that she’s a lucky bitch because of it?”
“She’s not up for discussion.”