But I think he’s missing a major point. I set my hamburger down on the wax paper in the red plastic basket and pick up a french fry. “I think you’re probably right to a certain extent, but to put it crassly, I also think there are a lot of women in here who probably just want to take you home and let you bang the hell out of them.”
Logan chokes on his beer, and the mug lands on the table with a thump. He leans forward and coughs into his hand as I squeeze more ketchup into my basket for my fries and proceed to dip away.
“Did you learn your bluntness from Holly? Shit, woman.”
I smile. “Actually, no. That comes from years of not being able to say what I think. I embrace the filterless lifestyle whenever I can get away with it. If you think I’m bad, you should meet my best friend, Banner.”
“She’s the one you texted?”
I nod, my gaze dropping to the phone between us that hasn’t lit up with a response.
“She’ll get back to you.”
I smile weakly. “I hope so. But if she doesn’t, at least she knows where I am so she won’t freak out any more than necessary.”
“And what about the press? You’re supposed to be laying low.”
“You shouldn’t insult my friend by assuming she’d tell the press anything. She wouldn’t. She’s good people.”
He holds up a hand in a placatory gesture. “Didn’t mean any harm. I’m still recovering from your blunt-force honesty.”
With a shrug, I grab another fry. “It’s the truth. There are generally three camps of women—the ones who want what you’ve got to offer in bed—of which Banner is a perfect example, the ones who want what you’ve got in your bank account, and then the ones who just want you.”
Logan’s blue eyes fix on me. “Which camp do you belong in?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
I told myself when Cav walked into the picture that I could be in the first camp. Just have a fling and move on when it ended. And then in Belize, I started falling for the man the same way I did three years ago.
What is it about him? Why do I feel like being around him paints my life with a completely new layer of happy I can’t get anywhere else?
“I don’t even need you to answer to know you’re one of the rare category-three women. And somehow I’m always a day late and a dollar short when it comes to finding them. You’re really hung up on this Hollywood guy, aren’t you?”
My head jerks up and a french fry goes flying across the table, narrowly missing Logan’s arm to land on the floor.
“You don’t have to throw food at me just because I’m right.”
I bite my lip to stifle the laugh. “I can’t believe I just did that.” Standing, I move to clean it up, but Logan’s hand stops me.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not the first fry to end up on this floor, and it won’t be the last.”
He waits until I resettle in my seat to ask his question again. “So, it’s serious with this guy? Holly seemed to think so.”
“Does Crey know you talk to Holly about stuff like this?” I have a hard time believing my possessive big brother would be cool with this guy being chatty with his wife.
“Who do you think told her to set up a second line of defense after you slipped away from the retired Rambo?”
Of course, Crey would.
“Look, I don’t want to talk about Cav. I don’t know what’s going on there, mainly because . . . well, you can’t build a relationship on a lie.”
Logan pauses, his hand on his beer mug. “Normally I’d agree, but something drew you in about this guy. So, why would you give up that easily? Just throw in the towel and not demand an explanation?”
I shrug, my shoulders hunched over the plastic basket, my burger and fries suddenly looking less appetizing. “I’m not exactly in any position to demand an explanation while I’m on lockdown in Kentucky.”
Logan lifts his beer to his lips, but before he drinks, he says, “I’m sure you’ll get your chance, Greer. It’s up to you what you make of it.”
Banner was harder to find than I expected. I didn’t have her number, and her office wouldn’t give me her address—apparently New York isn’t impressed with Hollywood fame, so I had to turn to social media. Thankfully, she posted a selfie a half hour ago and tagged the location.
I’m on the hunt, and I’m not leaving until I have a lock on Greer. Creighton Karas has the resources to send her anywhere, as is clear from our trip to Belize. But it’s even more clear that Greer would let him send her anywhere. She follows her brother’s orders too well, in my opinion, especially when his orders are contrary to mine.
This time, I won’t give her a choice. She’ll hear me out. I’m a man on a mission, and I’m willing to step over the line to get what I want from her. Greer has no idea what’s coming, but she will soon.
I walk into Jamison’s Pub, thankful that Banner isn’t spending time at some ritzy martini bar where I’d be recognized within moments. Jamison’s is a neighborhood bar, and it’s packed tonight. She’s sitting on the lap of a skinny guy who obviously has no idea what to do with a woman of her caliber. Poor sap. She’ll take what she wants from him and won’t leave her number in the morning. That’s my expert assessment of the situation, anyway.
I stop at the end of the booth and clear my throat to get their attention. Banner pulls her mouth away from the man’s neck, and he looks shell-shocked.