Chapter 24
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The rest of the weekend is subdued, and although the gossips are still talking about Nicole, she’s kept a low profile. Part of me wants to seek her out, but I don’t know what good it would do. When Logan isn’t spending all hours at the shop working on Boone’s car, he’s quiet, so I know the situation is eating at him.
Early Monday morning, I get a text from Greer about the car upholstery.
BEST BITCH: What would you say if I told you Cav called in a favor, and Elliott Crisp from the show Tricked Out has someone in Nashville who can do the seats on Boone’s car?
I have no idea what Tricked Out is, so I do a quick Google search. Apparently it’s a show on a major cable network where they take junkyard wrecks and turn them into show cars in a ridiculously short amount of time. Holy shit. This might actually work.
BANNER: No fucking way! Are you serious?
BEST BITCH: Logan just has to get all the seats and the design to him in Nashville before tomorrow morning and they’ll take it from there.
BANNER: They can be ready in a few days? How much will it cost?
BEST BITCH: What do you care? You’re a baller who inherited 30 mil.
She’s right, I don’t care. But Logan will.
BANNER: OMFG, you’re amazing! You just saved my ass from having to apologize to those bitches. Can you send me the contact info?
Greer sends it through, along with an xo.
I call immediately and talk to the guy. The price is steep, but he and I make a deal that I’ll cover the hefty rush fee, and Logan will get a bill for the rest. As soon as I have his word that he can make this happen and Logan will never know about the total price we agreed on, I run out to my rental car and jump in, not caring that I only have eyeliner on one eye and zero mascara.
Shit, I really do love him if I’m willing to leave the house like this.
When I pull into the parking lot of Logan’s shop, I can barely contain my excitement. As per usual, the music is pounding, and all three men are working on the Olds 442 that’s almost completely finished but for the paint job and the interior.
“Logan!”
Logan steps away from the car when he sees me and turns down the music. “Everything okay, Bruce?”
I nod my head. “Everything is so much better than okay. I found someone who can do your upholstery, and I don’t have to apologize to Tricia.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You just have to get the seats to Nashville ASAP, and this guy who does this show about tricking out cars has someone who can do the work there. His name is Elliott something.” My explanation comes out in a big babble, and Logan’s eyebrows knit together as he processes it.
“Elliott Crisp? From Tricked Out? Are you fucking serious?”
I nod again, probably a little too vigorously. “Yeah, I asked Greer, and she said she owes you, so her man called in a favor, and this Elliott guy’s friend can do it.”
Logan tilts back his head and stares at the ceiling for a moment, making me wonder if I misjudged how helpful I’m being. When he meets my gaze with his blue eyes shining, my question is answered.
“You’re a goddamned lifesaver, babe. I wonder how much it’s gonna cost me.”
“It’s a favor, so regular price is all you have to pay.”
“Thank fuck. Where do I need to take them?”
I release a sigh of relief. “I’ll text you the address.”
He looks over at his employees. “Yo, Jock. Rick. You can hold down the fort, right? I gotta get the seats to Nashville right the fuck now to save our asses.”
The one with Jock embroidered on the patch on his shirt replies. “Sure thing, man. Not much more to do before we deliver this to the paint shop. We’ll finish it all up.”
I send the address to Logan while he changes out of his coveralls and pulls a long-sleeved shirt over the T-shirt he’s wearing.
“You coming with me, babe?”
When I hesitate, Logan’s eyes widen. “Shit, your . . . stuff is being delivered today, isn’t it?” And by stuff, he means my box of dicks, but he chooses his words carefully, no doubt because of our audience.
“Yeah, but—”
Logan shakes his head. “No buts. You stay here and wait for it. That’s way more important for you.” He pulls me far enough away from where Jock and Rick are standing so they don’t overhear what he says next. “But tonight I want to come home and find you in my bed, playing with one of your toys. I’m gonna sit and watch you get yourself off before I make you come to compare.”
And just like that, my panties are a lost cause. “Oh yeah?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Deal.”
Logan leans in and gives me a quick, hard kiss. “I’m gonna be hard all fucking day while I’m driving.”
* * *
Several hours later, I get an e-mail from the shipping company that my boxes have been delivered via general delivery to the Gold Haven post office. Given that it’s almost four o’clock, I rush out of the house for the second time this afternoon, although this time I’ve got all my eye makeup on. Winning.
There are no spots in front of the post office, so I park in front of Cut a Bitch and hop out. Julianne bangs on the window to get my attention.
I wave but keep walking, racing the clock to get my stuff before closing time. When she bangs again in what I assume is a response, I’m already pushing open the door to the post office.
The line is three people deep, and I impatiently wait my turn. Finally, I reach the counter.
“I’m here to pick up two packages.” I turn my phone around to show her the delivery notification.
The woman takes my phone and props it up against her monitor. She taps the tracking numbers into the computer using the hunt-and-peck method, testing my patience further.
Her expression twists with what I assume is confusion, but she types it in again before looking up at me. “I’m sorry, but these have already been picked up.”
“Excuse me?” My voice rises, and all the other conversations in the tiny post office halt.
She clears her throat. “Yes, ma’am. It says here that someone already picked these up today.”
“That’s impossible. They’re my packages. No one else would be here to pick them up.”
She scans down the page, shaking her head. “Maybe there was some kind of mistake?”
“Obviously there was some sort of mistake if you gave them to someone who wasn’t me.” My temper flares to peak levels as my patience hits rock bottom. “Who did you give them to? Where are they?”
The man at the next station over comes to stand behind the woman helping me. “Which packages are y’all going on about?”
The woman points to the computer screen. “These two.”
“Emmy Harris was in here earlier picking up a dozen boxes for Home Cookin’. I wonder if there was some sort of mix-up when I carted them over there for her.”
At the name Emmy Harris, I want to scream. I swear, that woman keeps popping up everywhere, and each time, she’s a bigger pain in my ass.
The man goes back to his computer terminal. “Hmm. I might’ve made a mistake.” He looks at me. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I think I might’ve been so caught up in loading her stack that I grabbed a couple extras and tossed them on.”
My head feels like it’s about to explode. “Then you can go get them back for me, right?” Home Cookin’ is just across the street, so it’s not like it’ll be hard for him.
“Sorry, I can’t leave until after I close up and count down all the drawers. If you want them now, you can go check with her. Ms. Harris is just as sweet as can be, so I’m sure she’ll have no issue handing them right over.”
A strangled sound escapes from my throat. “Are you serious? You’re not going to bother to fix your mistake? You’re going to make me do it?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Everyone screws up occasionally. It’s not like you can’t get them back from her. Now, feel free to step out of line so we can help the next customer.”
This. Can’t. Be. Happening.
But when a woman steps up beside me and starts talking to the postal clerk, it appears this really is happening.
What the hell is wrong with this town?
I stomp out of the post office and find myself back on the sidewalk, wondering if there’s such a thing as professionalism that exists anymore.
“Hey ho!”
Apparently not.
Jerking my head to the left, I see Julianne sticking her head out of the salon door and waving.
“I’ll be right back,” I yell and keep walking.
“But—”
“Later!”
I cross the street and head for the front door of Home Cookin’, ready to get my boxes back and get on with my day.
When I push open the door and stride up to the counter, the conversation at the big table full of retired ladies having coffee hushes, but their version of quiet still allows me to hear every single word they say.
“Oh my word, is that her?”
“Yep. She’s the one.”
A prickle of foreboding creeps up the back of my neck, but I ignore it.
The waitress Darlene stops in front of me with a smirk on her face. “I can guess what you’re here for.”
“I need to talk to Emmy.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I’ll just bet you do.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
When Darlene walks away, I swing around to face the whispers that were coming from behind me. The women look away as I tap my foot and wait.
Finally, Darlene returns from the back, and Emmy is right behind her.
“I think you have two boxes of mine that the post office gave you by mistake,” I tell her, not bothering to waste her time or mine with a greeting.
Emmy leans on the counter, and I can’t read her expression. “Just when I think one person can’t cause any more scandal in this wholesome small town of ours, I’m proven wrong.”
I roll my eyes. “Just give me the boxes, and we can forget this ever happened.”
“Oh, I don’t think my good friend Tricia is going to forget what she saw in my office just twenty minutes ago. A box full of . . . I can’t even say it.”
Tricia. Fuck.
“Let me guess. She was so scandalized, she had to go tell the entire town that you accidentally opened a box of dicks not meant for you.”
Emmy’s sharp inhale tells me I’ve hit my mark. “Don’t you have any shame at all? Or even self-respect? What is Logan going to think of this when he finds out what kind of things you’re getting sent here—”
I adopt the sweetest tone I can manage and interrupt her. “Oh, honey, if you think he doesn’t know and one hundred percent support the idea, then you’re just sad and misguided.”
Her mouth drops open.
“Yeah, that’s right. In fact, if you’ll just give me my stuff, I’ll be able to follow through on what he asked me to do tonight, which is be at his house waiting for him, getting myself off.”
“I’ve never—”
“Had a decent orgasm? Just give me a few more weeks, and my company will be able to sell you a product to fix that.”
Now it’s not just Emmy gasping for air like a fish, because I hear the same noise coming from behind me as well. I turn in a circle, my arms flung wide, and pitch my voice so no one misses what I have to say.
“That’s right, ladies. I like dick. Lots of dick. Luckily for me, I’m getting the good dick. But even more luckily for you, I can make sure you get the good dick too. Orgasms for everyone!”
A slow clap starts, and my eyes cut to the door where Julianne stands.
“Oh. My. God. That was fucking priceless.”
“You can take your boxes, but we don’t need any of your disgraceful things here.” Emmy spins and heads for the back.
I make a move to follow her, but pause when another round of slow clapping starts. I turn back to see six of the women in the group of retirees standing.
“Don’t listen to her, honey. We want the good dick too,” one says.
“I’ll take two of everything you’ve got, if they work. My sister Agnes will want them for sure.”
All of a sudden, more women are leaving the table and coming toward me with questions about what I’ve got in my boxes that can help their boxes.
Julianne joins the crowd, but can’t stop laughing.
This day is looking up. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not too scandalous for the women of Gold Haven.
* * *
When I leave Home Cookin’, Julianne hefts one box, remarking that two boxes of dicks are too much for any woman to handle, and helps me carry it to my car.
“I honestly don’t know where I found my entertainment before you came to town,” she says. “Seriously, that was the best speech I’ve heard anyone give. I think you should run for mayor. You’d win by a landslide because our female population vastly outnumbers the male. Plus, with a slogan like orgasms for everyone, you really can’t go wrong.”
“Stop it. Jesus. Logan is going to be hearing about this before he even gets home, I’m sure.”
“Probably, but I can’t imagine he’s going to have a lot to say because you made sure to tell everyone that you’re getting the good dick.”
I shift the box to my hip as we reach my rental car to dig the keys out of my pocket and pop the trunk. “True. I did brag about him. Because he does have the best dick. If I weren’t so greedy about keeping it all to myself, I’d make a mold of it to base my next product line on. But there’s no way in hell I’m sharing his dick with the world, so that won’t be happening.”
“That’s just selfish, but then again, I can’t blame you,” Julianne says. “Damn, I wish I’d gotten that little speech of yours on video. It was seriously epic.” She sets the box in the trunk, and I shove the second one in next to it.
I flip open the top of the one that’s open. Thank you very much, Emmy. I pull out a beautifully packaged vibrator and hand it to Julianne. “Try it. See how you like it.”
Her eyes widen and she claps her hands together like it’s Christmas. “Are you serious? I wanted one, but I didn’t want to ask. I was about to lose the battle and ask anyway.”
“If you tried to leave without one, I would’ve just shoved it at you anyway. You can be my spokesperson.”
“Fuck yes, I can. If they’re as awesome as you say, I want to be an authorized distributor. This would be the best addition to the tools my shop sells since that killer flat iron I brought in last year.”
I dig through the box and pull out another package. “Here. Take this one too. Tell me which one you like best.”
She hugs both to her chest. “Seriously, you might be the best thing to happen to this town since Logan came back. Don’t let Emmy Harris or that bitch Tricia run you out of here. Gold Haven needs you.”
With those words, she strolls back toward her hair salon, and through the window, I see her hold up both boxes. A moment later, the four women inside start clapping. Julianne looks back at me through the front window and winks.
Maybe I do belong here.