The waitress brings my soda water and lime. After thanking her, I raise my glass in a toast to the man across the table from me.
“Cheers to not being babysat. I’m twenty-six years old and capable of looking after myself.”
His chuckle has my gaze cutting to his blue eyes, which dance with humor when he says, “So I hear. You’ve done a bang-up job.”
“Don’t patronize me.” My words are snappish, at best.
“And don’t throw fancy words at me. I’m a simple country boy.”
“Sure you are,” I mumble.
“And apparently one with very bad manners.” He reaches a hand across the table. “Logan Brantley, at your service, Ms. Karas.”
I take his offered hand, and mine is surrounded by his much larger palm.
“Please call me Greer.”
“Sure thing. Now, Greer, does your babysitter have any idea you’re out enjoying Gold Haven’s finest entertainment this evening?”
I swing my head toward the entrance out of instinct. Has Troy discovered my absence yet? I don’t see the bull-like man storming through the doors, so I’m going to take that to mean my escape is still a successful secret.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Well, damn, I guess you better enjoy it while you can.”
“That’s the plan. And find a phone so I can reach my best friend before she freaks out about where I am and loses her mind. She thought I’d be back in New York yesterday. And I would have been if Creighton hadn’t wanted to keep me out of the way.”
Logan produces an older model iPhone from his pocket. “It might not be the latest and greatest, but it’ll get the job done.” He slides it across the table toward me.
Glancing at him with surprise winding through me, I snatch up the phone and immediately open the messaging app. Banner’s number is one of the few I have memorized, mostly because she had the number chosen specifically for her when we were fifteen. 212-669-6969. I tap in the number and work out a quick message.
It’s G!! I’m alive!! I’m in Gold Haven, KY. They’ve got a security guy sitting on Holly’s gran’s house who thinks he’s GI Joe. Basically, I’m being held hostage by boredom, so I sneaked out to have some real human interaction. This isn’t my phone, but if you message me back in the next hour or so, I should still be with the guy.
I send the text and stare at the screen, anxiously waiting for the gray bubbles that would signal she’s texting back immediately. Nothing. Come on, Banner. Where are you?
I need my best friend’s advice. I’m tempted to excuse myself to the ladies’ room and call her, but Banner is quick on the trigger responding to text messages, unless she’s busy with her latest conquest. Even then, I expect to hear from her soon.
Impatient, I lay the phone on the table between Logan and me, and look up to find his gaze on my face.
“Leave it there or go call her. Up to you. I’m the last person to claim to be a babysitter.” His easy nature drains a measure of my anxiety away.
The waitress returns with a tray holding two cheeseburgers, fries, and another beer for Logan. After she unloads it and walks away, Logan smiles.
“Hope you don’t mind me joining you for dinner. Thought it might be better that way. Keeps the vultures from trying to land on the fresh meat.”
Vultures?
I casually scan the room and find dozens of eyes on us. A solid fifty percent of them are on Logan, the eyes of all the females, but he’s right, there are plenty of men looking at me like I’m as delicious as the burger in front of me appears to be.
Dropping my gaze back to my food, I shrug. “And here I thought I was flying below the radar.”
Logan chugs a swallow of his beer before once again unleashing his deep chuckle. “I don’t think you understand the true meaning of flying below the radar, sweetheart.”
Picking up my burger with both hands, I lift it to my lips. “You might be right about that.” I take a huge bite, holding back a moan at the deliciousness of it, then chew and swallow before adding, “I’m not sure you do either.” I follow my words with a meaningful scan around the room at all the women who still have their eyes fixed on the attractive man across from me.
Logan digs into his own burger and washes the bite down with beer before he responds. “Most of the women in this town have one thing in common.”
“What’s that?”
“They didn’t think I was good enough before I left for the military, and didn’t think I was good enough when I came back from the military.”
“So, what changed?” I sip my soda water and take another mammoth bite while I wait for his answer.
“Money,” he says, his tone dripping with derision.
Honestly, the response doesn’t surprise me a bit. “That happens. People come out of the woodwork when all of a sudden you’ve got what you didn’t have before.”
“They can all go straight to hell, for all I’m concerned. I’ll take their money to work on their cars, but I’m not going to let myself get trapped by some chick who’ll just try to get knocked up to get a child support payment out of me for eighteen years. Or even worse, the ones who think I’d marry them.”
I’ve never before considered the intricacies of small town life. Never having lived it, I had no reason to. But now that Logan Brantley lays it out, it makes perfect sense. The women in this bar look at him like he’s the golden ticket out of their paycheck-to-paycheck lives. Now that he’s mentioned cars, I remember Holly talking about the garage he bought and expanded, and the cool work he did. She’s way more of a car chick than I am, so I’m a little ashamed to admit most of that went in one ear and out the other.