Real Dirty (Real Dirty #1)

With Frisco, I wasn’t even tempted. Maybe because I could tell he was never serious, and me saying no to him was always more of a game. Plus, there was never the spark. But with Boone, it’s more than a spark—it’s an inferno threatening to burn down the entire town. And yet, there’s something else.

For the first time in my life, I made a completely selfish decision. This thing, whatever we have, is for me. To hell with Pop, Brandy, the bar, and everything else, because I’ve gone too long without doing something solely for myself.

On top of that, something about Boone has me letting my guard down in a way I never thought possible. He’s turned the stereotype I’ve held on to for so long on its head, and shown me that he’s more than an entitled ass*ole with a record deal and tour buses. He’s a guy who keeps showing me he actually gives a shit about me, and goes out of his way to prove it.

I’m not walking into this blind, though, and there’s no way I’m dropping my guard completely, but I think it’s time I take a risk on something that feels right, regardless of the consequences. Because when Boone tells me he’s going to take care of things, I actually believe him, and something about that is incredibly seductive.

Maybe I should go back to not thinking about why I’m going against my hard-and-fast rule. That’s easier than trying to justify it to myself.

Boone interrupts my thoughts with a question as we get closer to the Fishbowl.

“You got a plan for how you want this birdnapping to go down?”

I shoot him a sidelong glance. “Birdnapping? Really?”

“Just callin’ it what it is. The bird ain’t yours, but we’re taking it whether they like it or not. What else do you want to call it?”

“Bird rescue.” To my own ears, I sound determined and defiant.

“Still can’t believe you talked me into this.” Boone’s tone carries a hint of exasperation.

I shift in my seat again as I remember what I promised him in return.

“You help me get Esteban out of the bar, and I’ll let you do whatever kind of opening you want on my back door.”

I’m not even sure what to call that. I officially offered up my anal virginity to a guy for helping me steal a bird.

Desperate times.

My brain smacks me down. Quit lying to yourself, girl. You’d let him conquer your virgin territory without any kind of bargain at all.

And that’s probably the truth. Boone is different, and something about him makes me want to experience all the things I’ve been missing out on for years by being trapped in the Fishbowl.

“Whatever you want to call it, we gotta talk about the plan. I need to know what I’m walking into.”

We’re a few blocks away from the bar, and I glance at the clock on my phone. It’s only a few minutes after ten in the morning, but that means Esteban is probably going to be pissed because I doubt Brandy got her lazy ass out of bed—if she even slept there last night—to make sure he has fresh water and food. Esteban is a demanding feathered diva when it comes to his schedule.

“Don’t listen to whatever he says to you. Just grab the cage and get out of there.”

We’d already argued about me helping. Boone forbade me from getting out of the car, even though my ankle is feeling a lot better this morning and the swelling has gone down. Maybe it’s the painkillers talking, but I think it was a whole lot of fuss over nothing too serious.

“Why would I worry about what the bird says? I’m more concerned about someone taking a swing at my head from behind with that baseball bat you kept behind the bar.”

“Brandy shouldn’t be awake, if she’s even there. You’ve got keys, and it’s not like there’s an alarm that’s going to go off. Dad stopped paying for the monitoring before I took over managing the place.”

“And no one else is going to be there?”

“No. Unless . . .”

“What?”

“When I lived above the bar and Brandy crashed there, I had a rule that she couldn’t bring anyone home. If she wanted to bang some dude, she had to do it somewhere else.”

“So she and her latest f*ck might be upstairs.”

I nod. “And Esteban isn’t going to be quiet, so that could definitely wake the dead.”

Boone pulls up behind the bar and shifts the car into park. “No cars here, though.”

“Brandy doesn’t have a car. Got repo’d a few months ago.”

He just shakes his head and holds out his hand. “Keys?”

I drop the ring into his palm with the six keys to various locks in the building. “Let me help. Seriously. I’m fine. I can walk—”

Boone gives me a hard look. “Not happening. And when we get back home, your ass is going on the couch with that ankle up for the rest of the day. Get me?”

It takes everything I have not to bare my teeth at him in frustration. But I manage.

“Fine. Be a stubborn ass. Clearly, you’re good at it.”

He shoots me a wink. “It’s your ass I’m more worried about. Got plans for that sweet peach, and I need you in full working order for them.”

My mouth drops open, but Boone is out of the truck and heading for the back door of the bar before I can pull it together to respond.

That man . . .

He frustrates me and excites me in equal measure. I want to slap the smirk off his face and then kiss the crap out of him. Yeah, I’m screwed.

When he reaches the door, I realize I didn’t tell him which key it was, but on the third try, he gets it right and the door opens.

Boone disappears inside, and now . . . I wait.





43





Boone





At ten o’clock this morning, I was supposed to be giving a radio interview, but I canceled it after breakfast when Ripley told me she needed to go to her friend Hope’s to borrow her truck and stage a rescue operation.

Fast forward through a lot of arguing and what was probably the sexiest bargaining of my life, and here I am instead.

The bar is dark and quiet when I walk inside. The only light comes from a couple of fluorescents that I assume they keep on to deter intruders.

Didn’t work on this guy.

The bird’s cage is in the corner, shielded with the purple zipped cover. It’s about five feet tall, three feet wide, and two feet deep. In other words, way too big for me to easily steal by myself, but whatever. I’ll make it work.

When I bear-hug the cage to lift it off the stand, the bird flips out.

“Red alert. Red alert. Danger, Will Robinson.” The tone of his screeching changes. “Gonna kill you, mothaf*cka.”

Yeah, anyone upstairs is going to be wide awake now. I turn with the cage, glad it’s not as heavy as I anticipated, and move toward the exit.

“Sorry, buddy.” I use the cage to push open the door.

“Red alert. Dead man walking.”

As soon as I’m outside, thinking this went way more smoothly than I planned, Ripley hops out of the passenger side of the truck and hurries around to open the door to the back of the cab.

I’m cursing at her in my head as the bird swears at me to anyone who will listen.

I put the seats down in the crew cab before attempting this shit, so with the door open, all I have to do is slide the cage inside. Thank f*ck it fits.

“Get your ass back in the car, woman. I told you—”

“You needed help.”