Real Good Man (Real Duet #1)

“You have to meet him. I mean, you can’t miss this chance.”

“I can’t! I’m going to screw everything up, and then—” I cut myself off before I can admit that it’s going to suck so much major donkey dick if I lose him in my life. Even in this short period of time, I’ve gotten attached to whatever we have.

“And then what? What could you possibly screw up? It’s not like you’re planning to marry the guy or something, right?”

Sofia’s question stops me cold and tosses me years into the past. I mumble a response as I head for the kitchen and my trusty bottle of vodka in the freezer. Sofia’s Russian, I think, so she can hack it.

Someday, I’m going to be able to face the idea of marriage without thinking of Livingston Armstrong’s mother telling him that I’m the kind of girl you bang in a frat house, not the kind of girl you bring to the Hamptons to meet the family.

I should have known with a name like Livingston, he’d be a pretentious douche bag.

The rest of the memory replays in my head like it happened yesterday.

“But she’s from a great family, Mother.”

Haughty Mrs. Armstrong didn’t care. “She might be from a good family, but that doesn’t mean she’s cut from the same cloth. That girl is trouble. Mark my words. Sow your wild oats with that one, and then go find a nice girl to settle down with. Her mother must be so ashamed to have such a brash and classless daughter. Don’t ever bring her back here.”

Livingston dropped his gaze to his lap as his mother looked up and caught me watching them from around the corner. She didn’t take back a single word or apologize. No, instead she tilted her head and raised a brow.

Bitch.

Livingston didn’t get to sow any more wild oats with me. I told the entire female Greek population at Amherst that his dick was too small to be bothered with, and he had to find girls from other schools to date until graduation.

That was the last time I let myself think about my future in terms of a single guy.

I’m not the marrying type, and while I fought not to take Mrs. Armstrong’s words to heart, she gutted me with one sentence of solid truth. My mother was ashamed, not only about me being brash and classless, but also about the fact that I refused to go to MIT and follow in my parents’ footsteps.

I ended up at Amherst, much to their disappointment, and they essentially washed their hands of me after that. So instead of becoming a studious little future scientist, I became something else entirely—the life of the party with no intention of ever settling down.

“Banner? Are you listening to me?”

I turn around with the vodka bottle in hand and shake myself free of the past. “Sorry, spaced out. What did you say?”

“Are you worried he’s not going to like you? I’m not sure that’s possible. Men love you. All of them.”

“Men love my tits, ass, and dirty mouth,” I reply, my tone flippant. My pride won’t let me admit that I’m terrified Logan Brantley won’t like the rest of me.

I’m being ridiculous. Screw him if he doesn’t like me. I’m awesome.

I remind myself I don’t care what anyone thinks, let alone some guy I’ll probably never see again. Why am I freaking out about this, anyway?

Taking a swig straight from the bottle, I focus on the smooth burn of the vodka sliding down my throat and announce, “We’re going out.”

Sofia throws both hands into the air, and I know she needs tonight as badly as I do. “Can I change in your bathroom? I didn’t want Mrs. Frances to see me get slutted up. Her words, not mine.”

I smile. “Yes, definitely. Get on with your slutty self.”

She giggles like the twenty-two-year-old girl it’s easy to forget she is, and pauses before turning toward the bathroom. “My skirt is so short, we won’t pay for drinks all night. It might not solve your question about the guy, but it couldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll worry about him tomorrow.”





Chapter 5


Logan


I still haven’t gotten an address from Banner as I load up the Road Runner to head out before the sun rises tomorrow morning. I have half a mind to pull some strings and figure out where she lives on my own if she doesn’t respond. I’m not going to waste this chance just because she’s suddenly having cold feet. Besides, that’s not the woman I’ve gotten to know. She takes life head-on.

By the time I crank down the last ratchet strap, I decide I’m not gonna let her chicken out. Even without her address, I’m gonna meet Banner and satisfy my raging curiosity. Regardless of whatever else does or doesn’t happen, the least I can do is show her how a real man treats a woman.

As though I conjured it through my thoughts, my phone buzzes with a text message.

I pull it out, and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

It’s an address. A second message comes through immediately after.



BANNER NYC: We’re not meeting at my place.



I type my reply.



LOGAN: You don’t trust me.

BANNER NYC: Maybe it’s me I don’t trust.



Well now, isn’t that an unexpected development.



LOGAN: Maybe I’m hunchbacked with one eye and tiny T. rex hands.

BANNER NYC: Impossible. I’ve seen your picture.

LOGAN: How?



There’s no way Greer could have sent her one because she was using my phone, and I read the message she sent Banner. So when an old photo from my days in the corps appears on the screen of my phone, I’m more than a little surprised.



LOGAN: You stalking me?

BANNER NYC: Have you changed much since then?

LOGAN: I don’t carry an M16 everywhere.

BANNER NYC: No, but I bet you’re packing below the belt. At least, that’s what I assume . . .

BANNER NYC: I didn’t mean to say that. I’m drunk. Ignore everything.



Now, shit’s getting interesting. I’ve been careful to keep my messages to her on the friendly side of the scale, but Banner has hinted at more now twice. It’s time to stop with the games and put it out there for real.



LOGAN: You imagining me naked?





Chapter 6


Banner


“I think I just made a terrible mistake.”

As Sofia returns to the table from the bathroom, her sleek brown eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?” She looks down at the empty cocktail glasses between us. “And what happened to my drink?”

“I drank it. This was an emergency.” I hold up my phone. “I basically told him I think about him naked.”

Sofia’s blue eyes widen as she stares at me. “I thought you said no drunk texting?”

I shrug and peer down into the empty glass. “You left me without adult supervision.”

She slides into the chair at our tall cocktail table and laughs. “You’re the adult here, Banner. You’re how much older than me? And why does it matter, anyway? You’re the queen of dirty texts.”

“You seriously can’t be asking me to do math right now, and it matters because I wasn’t doing this with him. I was trying the friends thing.”