Page 58 of Real Good Man
“You haven’t even seen the inside.” I turn off my truck and hop out.
She doesn’t wait for me to get her door, though, but meets me in front of the truck as she stares up at the house set back amongst a stand of trees. The gurgle of the creek running along the back corner of the yard breaks through the otherwise quiet night, even though the lights don’t reach far enough for her to see it.
“Did you build it?”
I shake my head as I thread my fingers through hers and walk up to the front steps. “No, but I gutted it down to the studs and redid the entire inside. It was a foreclosure, and I picked it up cheap from the bank. It sits on five acres, so it’s pretty private back here.”
“Five acres?”
There’s a certain amount of wonder in her voice, and I forget that she’s a Manhattanite, and that kind of property is unheard of.
“Property’s a lot cheaper in Kentucky than New York City.”
We climb the stairs onto the porch and I push my key into the lock to take her in through the front door, flipping on the lights as we step inside. Normally, I’d come in through the back, but I wanted her to see the house this way instead.
I point up at the vaulted ceiling lined with tongue-and-groove pine. “That ceiling was a bitch to install by myself.”
Her eyes widen. “You did that?”
I nod. “Every piece of this house has my blood, sweat, and cuss words wrapped up in it. The stacked-stone fireplace took forever to get right, but it was worth it. I’d come here after a long day at the shop and work until I was so tired, I couldn’t trust myself with power tools.”
Banner does a slow circle, taking in the room.
A gray couch and chair face the fireplace, and the TV hangs over the mantel. There’s not much in the way of knickknacks because I’ve got a dick.
“I love it,” she says again, and I swear I’m puffing up from the pride now. She hesitates before stepping on the refinished pine floors, looking to me and down at her boots. “I don’t want to track bowling alley nastiness all over your beautiful home.”
“Your choice,” I say.
She wobbles a little as she pulls her boots off, and suddenly she’s three inches shorter.
I kick off my work boots as well, and lead her into the kitchen. It’s open to the living room, and while it’s not gourmet, it’s pretty damn nice. “I picked out the remnant of granite myself, and traded out car repairs with a buddy to build the custom cabinets.”
“I don’t even know how to cook, but I’m definitely impressed.”
“Luckily, we know I can cook, so you’re not going to starve in the morning.”
Before she replies, Banner zeroes in on the key rack by the back door. She walks over to it, reaching up to touch the Hulk key chain from the arcade in New York.
“You kept it.” She turns to look at me, surprise in her eyes. “I figured you would’ve tossed it out the window as soon as you hit the highway. Especially after ...” Her words trail off.
I shake my head and cross to where she stands. “I thought about it, but then I realized it didn’t matter whether I kept it or not. There was no way I’d ever forget you.”
I don’t mention the panties that are still in my toolbox. A man has to have some secrets.
Banner bites down on her lip and swallows. “I’m glad you kept it. It’d be sad if I were the only one carrying something around from that night.” She digs in her purse and pulls out the keys to Holly’s gran’s house, and sure enough, there’s the Wolverine key chain I won her.
“It was a good night.”
She nods. “The best.”
“Ah, Bruce.” I give her a smile. “We can do better than that. Just wait.”
My words hang between us, and even though I want to say more, I change the subject.
“You wanna see the rest?”
She nods, and I lead her up the hallway, showing her the second bathroom, a guest room, and a bedroom I turned into an office. Finally, I push open the door to the master. It’s clear a man lives here by himself. There are only enough pillows on the bed to sleep, the comforter is a little rumpled where I tossed it over the sheets in an attempt to make the bed, and a pair of jeans and a T-shirt lie over a chair in the corner.
