Chapter 36
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The next day, we’re two hours late leaving Gold Haven with Boone Thrasher’s car in a trailer towed behind Logan’s truck. By some miracle, Logan’s truck didn’t even have a bubble on the paint, even though it was only twenty feet away from the blaze. Something about wind direction and hand-of-God type stuff.
Logan dealt with insurance people all morning before he could finally get away and load up the car with Jock and Rick’s help. Both of them swore on the graves of their respective ancestors that neither was making meth in the bathroom, and Logan believes them.
They’ve both been questioned by Cody Reeves too, so now all that’s left is to figure out who would set up Logan like this.
He isn’t the kind of guy who goes around racking up enemies. He’s a good guy. The kind who doesn’t hesitate to help his neighbors or do a favor for a friend.
I saw Julianne this morning, standing out in front of her salon and directing the glass people as they measured for a new window. Her expression was hard.
“This shit is personal now. I’m gonna figure it out if the cops and that reporter can’t.”
From the determination in her tone, I believe she will. I just hope someone does before there are any more “accidents.”
The entire town seems to be walking on eggshells, and it makes me wonder what Gold Haven was like before all of its residents looked at each other with suspicion in their eyes.
I ask Logan the question, and he spends an hour telling me stories about different people in town and how it used to be.
“Do you think things will ever go back to normal?” I ask.
In the driver’s seat, his posture stiffens. “I sure as fuck hope so. But now I’ve got decisions to make.”
“What do you mean?”
“The insurance money will let me rebuild somewhere else if I want. It won’t be as much as if I rebuild the structure that was lost, but now’s my chance to leave Gold Haven, if that’s what I wanted to do.”
“You want to leave Gold Haven?”
He glances over at me. “The town hasn’t been all that welcoming to you, and that alone makes me think about it.”
I’m touched that he’s even considering it, but I hate the idea of being the reason he leaves his home.
“But it’s your town. Where else would you go?”
Logan shrugs. “I could start over. Maybe Nashville. I hear some people really like it there. You’d have an actual city. Starbucks and all that shit you’re missing.”
I raise a hand. “Whoa. Just hold on. If I wanted a Starbucks on every corner, I could go back to New York to get my fix.”
Logan’s expression blanks. “You want to go back to New York?”
“I want to be where you are, Logan. But I don’t want you deciding to move your entire life because you think it’s something I want. Sure, some of the women in Gold Haven could win awards for epic bitches of the century, but I’ve handled most of them. I mean, I’m going to have the whole retiree contingent wanting to be my best friend because I’ve got the good dick.” I wink at him. “Besides, I’m not going to let the Tricias or Emmys of this town run me out. I’ve got pride too, you know.”
“So, what are you saying? You’d be happy to stay there? Run your business there?”
“Not for every day of the year. I know with your business there it would be our home base, but I’d like to spend a little time in New York, maybe travel some too. But ultimately, I’ve gotten used to the idea of living there. I like your house. I like going to Pints and Pins, although I might need to take some street-fighter lessons before we go back again. Unless you really want to leave, I say we stay.”
Logan is quiet for a few miles before he finally answers. “Then we stay. I’ll rebuild. You need an office that’s not a kitchen counter, so that means we add on to the house, or you can rent space somewhere else if you don’t want to work at home.”
“Okay. Let me give it some thought, and I’ll get back to you on that.” I reach across the center console and squeeze his hand.
Everything is going to work out.
I hope.
* * *
One thing I don’t miss about living in the city is the ridiculous traffic. As we slow on the highway, I look over at Logan.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t realize how big of a pain in the ass it would be to maneuver this big-ass trailer through Manhattan.”
He shoots me a smile. “It was worth it, babe. More than worth it.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, because I would’ve wanted to strangle me for being so clueless.”
Nashville traffic slows to a crawl as we get closer and closer to downtown and the arena.
“Are you sure we’re going to be able to get in there?”
“Boone says he told them we were coming.”
As if the man knew we were talking about him, Logan’s phone dings from the cupholder with a text.
“Wanna check that?”
I grab it and read the text, then send Logan’s reply.
BOONE: Security says they haven’t seen you yet.
LOGAN: Almost there. GPS says 10 minutes.
BOONE: Good. Everyone’s waiting.
“Nothing like a little pressure,” Logan mumbles as he signals to change lanes for our exit.
“It’s all good, babe. He’s going to love the car, and you’re going to have more business than you can handle.”
“Which is great, when I don’t have a shop.”
It’s something I’ve been thinking about since he brought it up earlier. “I did some googling while we stopped for gas, and there’s commercial space available in Gold Haven. I found you two buildings I think could work. You’d have to move the new equipment you buy back to your permanent location after you rebuild, but it would be good for now.”
Logan changes lanes and glances at me. “Seriously?”
“What can I say? I wanted to help.”
“Thank you, babe.” He reaches over and squeezes my thigh with a smile before making the next turn.
Finally, the arena comes into view. We’re only five minutes behind schedule, so I count that as a win.
When we turn around the back side of the building, two huge tour buses are parked inside a fenced area. Security stands in front of the gate.
Logan stops before opening his window. “Logan Brantley for Boone Thrasher.”
“We’ve been waiting for you.” The security guard pulls a pass out of his back pocket. “Hang this from your mirror so it’s visible at all times. Pull right through here and park off to the left next to the buses.”
He steps back and waves for someone else to open the gate. People are milling around outside the fence, and security keeps them from running inside the fenced-off area.
Crazy fans, I guess.
“Can’t believe this is finally happening,” Logan says.
I reach over and lay a hand on his arm. “You should be proud. You rocked this, babe.”
He meets my gaze before pulling forward. “You know, I am. I don’t think I’ve felt this proud since before I took off my uniform for the last time.”
“Did you happen to keep that uniform? I mean, I’m just asking because . . .” I shoot him a wicked smile. “I like the idea of role-playing with my soldier.”
He gives me a sharp look. “Marine, and don’t you forget it.”
I salute him. “Got it.”
Logan pulls up next to a fancy tour bus and parks. We both climb out of the cab of the truck, and a man in ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, boots, and a shredded baseball hat comes toward us.
“I haven’t been this excited since I was sure my folks got me a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. I’m dying to see her.” He pauses and looks to me. “I’m Boone Thrasher.”
“Banner Regent. Nice to meet you. You’re going to love the car.”
“I know. Let’s get her out.”
Logan smiles as we walk around the back of the trailer and unlock the doors. A few more people dressed all in black, who I assume are roadies, join the group around the trailer.
The rear end of the red-and-black car gleams in the sunlight.
“Holy fuck.”
“Wait until you see the rest of her.” Logan hauls out the little ramp things that will be used to drive the car out of the trailer.
“I can’t wait.”
Logan fishes the keys out of his pocket. “You want me to back it out?”
Boone shakes his head. “No, I got it. I’ve done this a time or two.”
“You screw it up, that’s on you.”
I’m honestly shocked at how blunt Logan is with him, but then again, I can’t blame him either.
“Ten-four, brother. No worries.”
Boone jumps up into the back of the trailer, swearing as he runs his hand along the paint job. When the ramps are in place, Logan yells to him to fire it up.
The engine roars to life, and over the sound, I can hear Boone laughing. Everyone holds their breath as he backs it out of the trailer and down the ramps.
I’ve been so busy watching what was happening in front of me, I didn’t realize all the press crowding around us until the click of camera shutters catches my attention.
Now it makes sense why Boone wanted to be the one to back it out. He may look like a simple country guy, but he’s savvy with the press.
When the Olds 442 is parked on solid ground, Logan finally breathes again.
Boone revs the engine, laughing like a crazy person. “This is so fucking badass!”
When he finally turns the engine off, opens the door and climbs out, he throws both arms around Logan. “Amazing, man. You killed it. The shifter knob with my logo. The paint. The interior. It’s just like you drew it. I can’t even fucking believe it.”
“Glad you like her. She’s a beauty.”
“She’s a snarlin’ beast and the baddest bitch to ever roll off a trailer. I can’t wait to get her onstage. This show is gonna be epic. The car, the new single, and my surprise.”
I don’t know what surprise Boone’s talking about, but apparently he doesn’t want the press to know about it either because he doesn’t elaborate.
“You wanna see under the hood?” Logan asks.
“Hell yeah.” Boone crouches near the door and reaches inside for the hood release. Logan comes around the front and props it open.
“Holy shit. Look at that setup.”
I don’t know anything about anything when it comes to cars, but even I think all the shiny metal looks impressive.
Logan runs down the entire list of what makes this car badass, but it all goes right over my head. Apparently Boone doesn’t have that problem, because he’s nodding and grinning.
“It’s gonna take all the restraint I’ve got not to take her to the track and race for pinks like I used to.”
Logan gives him a hard look. “If you’re gonna take that chance, I want first dibs.”
Boone holds out his hand. “Thank you, man. This is truly a masterpiece.”
The press has been hanging back, snapping pictures, but when Boone waves them forward, I’m instantly behind a crowd of people.
As Logan answers questions, his commanding confidence is sexy as hell. I cross my arms, content to watch him in his element.
The press has already heard about the destruction of the shop, and when they ask, Logan handles it like a pro.
“Despite the devastating loss, I’m already making plans to rebuild. I think from Boone’s reaction, it’s clear that I need to get my new temporary location up and running as quickly as possible. We’ll be able to handle all projects coming our way.”
“So, does Boone get to keep you with the car?”
Someone with a drawl more pronounced than Logan’s steps up beside me. I look to the right and see a guy in a worn gray thermal, ripped jeans, and boots.
His question catches me off guard. “Uh, no.”
The man gives me a head-to-toe look, lingering on the predictable spots. “Might be better for him if he could. But then again, since he’s a committed man,” he throws up air quotes around the last two words, “you’d just end up going home with me anyway.”
“I’m not sure who you think you are, but—”
He holds out a big hand. “Nashville recording artist Zane Frisco at your service, beautiful. And when I say at your service, I do mean it. You tell me when and where.” When I don’t reply, he asks, “And you are?”
“Not interested.”
His eyes widen just enough to let me know that’s not the usual reaction he gets. “Honey, you don’t realize who you’re talking to, do you?”
I straighten my shoulders and turn to face him. “It doesn’t really matter. You know why?” I point at Logan. “You see that guy? The one who built this badass car? He’s mine and I’m his. So all the flirting in the world isn’t going to be anything but a waste of your breath. I’m taken. Off the market. Well and truly not interested.”
“When you put it like that, it just makes you even more of a challenge. That kind of loyalty is hard to come by in a woman.”
I cross my arms. “That might be true, but that sounds like a you problem.” Glancing back toward Logan, I notice his gaze is on Zane Frisco and me.
“Sure you don’t want to make him jealous, beautiful?”
I look away from Logan and back to Zane. “Completely.”
Something lights in his gray eyes. “Well, maybe I do.” He reaches out an arm to wrap around my hips, but I spin out of his reach just as quickly.
“If you have an interest in preserving your ability to perform as anything but a soprano, I suggest you back off right now.”
Logan strides toward us. “Is there a problem here?”
Boone is right behind him, and I’m painfully aware of the clicks of the camera shutters now.
“No problem at all,” Zane says. “You’re a lucky man. If you’re a smart one too, you’ll put a ring on that woman’s finger so the whole world knows she’s taken.”
Logan’s hand lands on the small of my back. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Frisco, you better keep your paws off Brantley’s woman. You want that rust-bucket Challenger of yours to look like my beast, this is the man who can do it.”
“For double,” I add with a pointed look.
Zane’s deep laughter carries through the crowd. When he’s finished, he reaches out his hand to Logan. “No offense meant, man. Zane Frisco. I’d be proud to have a Logan Brantley custom ride.”
Logan pauses a beat before gripping his hand and shaking it. “You try to touch Banner again, and the only Logan Brantley custom ride you’ll get will be to the ER.”
I’m not sure if they’re involved in some kind of handshake standoff, but they finally relax their grips when Zane replies.
“Duly noted.”
Boone grins at Logan. “Thanks for not breaking his hand. He’s my special guest for tonight’s show, and if he can’t play the guitar, he’s pretty worthless.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Logan’s tone is as dry as I’ve ever heard a drawl.
“Let me grab my assistant and send her over to you. She’s got your info for the hotel and the schedule for tomorrow. Have a good time tonight, and we’ll see you tomorrow for all the press shit.”
“Thank you, Boone. Much appreciated.” Logan nods at Zane. “Frisco.”
He throws his arm around me, his hand resting on my ass as he leads me back to the truck and trailer. “Do I need to go back and kick his ass?”
I glance up into Logan’s blue eyes. “Would you if I said yes?”
“Damn right.”
I shake my head. “No need. I can handle myself if necessary.”
Logan’s gaze darkens, and it’s like the alpha-male possessive instincts have been cranked up to ten. “I’ll handle you and anything that comes your way.”
“How about you handle me back at the hotel?”