Thursday Nights (The Charistown Series)

by Lisa N. Paul

  Janie nodded, her demure, teal eyes sparkling with the uncontainable mischief that always seemed to bubble to the surface when she was around Lyla. The two women knew they had a captive audience but refused to engage anyone but each other.

  “So…what did you do?” Lyla lifted her glass to her lips, tipped it back, and then replaced it on its coaster. “Please tell me you didn’t put any money on the table!”

  Janie winked and took a long sip of her cocktail. “Ly, of course I put money on the table. It wasn’t the waiter’s fault my date was a cheap-ass jerk. But”—Janie sipped her drink again—“when he walked me to my door and leaned in for a kiss…I told him that neither his tongue nor his tip were going anywhere near me.”

  Janie and Lyla broke into a fit of laughter, the men who’d been listening seeming equal parts aroused and ashamed. Their expressions only caused more hysterics from the two women.

  Max, on the other hand, felt his protective instincts flare. He wanted to find that guy and teach him a thing or two about how to treat a woman. Since meeting and befriending Janie, he had thought she was attractive—no…not attractive, more than attractive...fucking gorgeous—and over the past month or two, he’d been finding himself wanting to protect her from all of the things, specifically men, that could hurt her. He had to remind himself to back off, to let go of the urge.

  You’re no one’s hero, he thought. You don’t do relationships. It’s fuck and release. You get in, you get out, no one gets hurt. Max gave himself a mental shake and tuned back into the conversation.

  But Janie and Lyla weren’t at their overcrowded table anymore. They now sat perched on barstools directly in front of him at the long, scarred, mahogany bar. Where Max could look his fill without being too obvious.

  “Girls, you’ve gotta stop torturing my customers. My insurance doesn’t cover heart attacks caused by Danny’s Dolls.” The joke came from Danny, the bar’s owner and namesake.

  “Don’t you mean Danny’s Domme’s?” Max added, a tightness in his chest that didn’t match his normally calm voice.

  “Po-tay-to, pa-tah-to,” Danny retorted with an easy smile.

  Janie’s eyes sparkled with mischief again. “Ly, do you get the feeling that Mr. Owner and Mr. Bartender are making fun of us?”

  Lyla picked up the proverbial ball and ran with it. “Why, yes. Yes, Jane, I do. And I’m not sure what they’re talking about. Just because the boys who drink here get all goofy over a mild conversation about whether they like their women to have ‘hardwood’ or ‘carpet’ has nothing to do with us.” Lyla smirked as Max’s Adam’s apple bobbed down the thick column of his throat.

  “You’re right, Lyla,” Janie giggled. “And what real man can’t discuss whether or not he likes anal play?”

  At the desperate look on Danny’s face and the lustful look on Max’s, both women burst out laughing again.

  “You are all the same,” Janie said, shaking her head.

  “Eeeaasy,” the women said in unison.

  Janie and Lyla had been coming to Danny’s on Main for six months. It started out as just a Thursday night thing, but as the women got to know Danny and his wife Julie, as well as the rest of the bar’s staff, they all started spending time together in a social capacity. The two young women were more than just proprietor and customer, now. They were more like family…or as close to family as Janie and Lyla had ever had. Over the past couple months, the two women had even starting cooking dinner for the whole crew on Sunday nights. Since neither woman was close to her family either by choice or circumstance, they had made Sunday night dinner their “family time” and invited Danny and Julie, Max, and the other bartenders—Ryan, Kyle, and Ashley—to join them—it was the one night of the week that Danny’s on Main was closed. That’s how close they’d become.

  “All I’m saying is, I know you’re both grown women, but I worry about you,” Danny continued. “And I’m not sexist, but it’s more dangerous for a woman to take home random guys from a bar.” Danny wore his paternal face, the one that said all joking stops now. Looking directly at Lyla, he added, “I can’t keep up with all of the guys you take home any more than I would any of my boys, but I hope you’re at least being safe.”

  Lyla’s cheeks flushed slightly, and Janie watched her closely. She saw the flash of pain sweep across her best friend’s gorgeous heart-shaped face before being neatly tucked away in the iron-clad box where her emotions choked and suffered but stayed put.

  “I’m safe, Danny. Thanks for pointing out that I’m a slut though.” Lyla winked to imply that she was joking, even though Janie knew that she had taken Danny’s caring comment personally. Lyla was always the first to recognize the bad in herself, even if she didn’t publicly acknowledge it. Janie inserted herself into the conversation to take the attention off her friend.

  “Okay, Danny, and my lecture is where?” Janie raised her eyebrows, her gaze focused on the man leaning comfortably on the end of the bar. Lyla reached over to Janie’s lap and squeezed her hand in thanks.

  “Janie…” Danny paused, looking at her thoughtfully. “Janie, you deserve much better than fucking losers like Richard.”

  “You mean Dick,” Lyla chimed in.

  Danny chuckled. “Whatever his name, that guy was an ass. He had no respect for you. Since then, all I have heard about are the assholes and douche bags you dated before him and the pussies you’ve gone out with since.” With a softened glance, he said, “Wise up, girl.”

  Janie nodded, properly scolded.

  In that moment, Max’s brain finally lost the battle his body had been waging. Watching Janie step into the line of fire to protect Lyla and take on the unwanted attention herself broke the dam that had been holding back the want and need he’d so carefully secured. He could no longer deny the desire he felt for the kind, sexy woman who sat in front of him. And she had no idea how gorgeous she was and that naïveté just made her even hotter.

  Staring at her thick, dark, shining hair his eyes grazed over her every feature. The thought of tangling his fingers through all that silk and pulling it as he stared into her big, bright eyes made his hands itch. His gaze traveled to the plump, pink lips that tilted up in a small smile every time she looked at him. Oh, how he wanted to kiss and nibble those lips. There were so many things he wanted to do with her.

  As his focus traveled down the column of her long neck to the creamy, smooth skin of her chest and amply showing cleavage, his mouth began to water. Lyla was right: they looked delicious. His dick was as hard as granite. Thank God he was standing behind the bar. She was becoming a distraction he could no longer ignore. If he could have her just one night…maybe then he could finally get her out of his system. Then they could go back to being friends. He just had to mute the little voice in his head that screamed, “Yeah…good luck with that!”

  Max didn’t realize he’d missed the end of Danny’s fatherly “talking to” until jarred out of his fantasy by his boss’s voice. “Max, get these girls a drink, on me.”

  Max placed the unordered Cosmos in front of each woman. He knew exactly what each of them wanted to drink based on their moods. It was definitely Cosmo time.

  Lyla smirked. “Which girls, Danny?”

  Janie shimmied her breasts together. “Maybe he means these girls, Ly.”

  A peal of laughter escaped the two women while Danny rolled his eyes. “They’re impossible, Max…impossible, I say.”

  Max lifted one dirty-blond eyebrow in response while trying his best to avoid the perfect globes on display in front of him. The gruff sound of Danny’s chuckle couldn’t be missed, but Max swore he heard Danny mumble into his beer, “Keepin’ your eye on the prize, I see.”

  And with that, any seriousness the moment had evaporated, and the mood went back to playful.

  “So, that’s why I refuse to serve any one person more than eight shots of tequila!” Max grinned as he finished his story. Janie and Lyla wiped the tears of laughter from their eyes before they sipped their
pink drinks again.

  “And they really got that tattoo there and blamed you?!” Lyla asked through her hysterics. Max nodded, and Janie watched as he scrubbed his hand over his perpetual five o’clock shadow.

  “My stomach actually hurts from laughing so hard!” Janie said, running her hands over her flat belly.

  Lyla quirked a brow at Max when she saw the desire flare in his eyes as he watched Janie. He focused a trained gaze on Janie’s hands.

  “All right, I have to pee. I’ll be right back,” Janie announced to everyone and no one. She slid off her bar stool and headed for the bathroom. Max watched her slim hips sway as she walked away, his eyes slowly drifting lower…

  “Max! I totally saw that,” Lyla said, her voice husky, as soon as Janie was out of earshot.

  “What exactly do you think you saw?” Max slowly shifted his green eyes from Janie’s retreating form to a very-interested Lyla.

  “You were checking out Janie. I knew it! I knew you were into her. Why haven’t you said anything?”

  “Lyla, for someone who thinks she knows everything, sometimes…you don’t have a clue.” Max’s smile and tone were laid back, just like the man himself, but his self-control was beginning to fray. The rag he was using to wipe down the bar was held tightly in his hand. Looking down as he scrubbed the same spot over and over, he wondered if it was worth risking his friendship with Janie for just one night. His gaze slowly lifted from the bar as Janie strutted back to her seat. It would be one smokin’ night, his libido shouted.

  Janie’s face was pinched with disgust as she hopped back up on the stool. “Danny, you may want to get someone into the bathroom. Uh, some poor girl had too much to drink…”

  “Great…” Danny sighed and excused himself to deal with the mess. Obviously it wasn’t the first time he had to handle a messy bathroom, but the job never got more pleasant.

  Janie felt bad about anyone having to face the shitstorm she had just seen, but it had to be done. “So…um…what were we talking about before nature called?”

  “Alcohol, tattoos, and sex with friends,” Lyla responded with purpose, clearly happy with the seed she had planted. Max’s nostrils flared slightly as he sent Lyla an evil stare, his knuckles whitening over the rag he was using to wipe the bar top…again. Her gaze then settled on her best friend. She knew exactly what was going on in that pretty little head of Janie’s just by looking at the way she was trying to sneak a look Max. If there was ever a kitten-to-a-bowl-of-cream metaphor to be used, now was the time.

  Janie could sense a shift in the mood between Lyla and Max when she came back from the bathroom, but she tried to ignore it. She eyed Max through her long lashes and lifted her glass. God, the man was hot. Set-your-panties-on-fire hot. His wavy, dark-blond hair hung slightly too long but called out for Janie to run her fingers through it. His eyes were the most incredible shade of green, reminding her of fresh-cut grass in spring. But his body, his body could—and did—make grown women swoon, Janie included.

  She trained her stare on his broad chest—so much thick muscle and sinew stretched under his thin, black, cotton T-shirt. She watched intently as he turned around to grab a bottle from the shelf behind him, his jeans low on his lean hips, sculpting his perfect ass in a way that made Janie jealous of the piece of denim. In fact, his hard, well-defined form had been the topic of several Thursday-night conversations. Oftentimes, Max was a participant in those talks, too.

  “What do you want me to tell you?” he would say with an arched brow. “I want to stay in shape…gotta look good for the ladies.”

  “Can you get cockier?” Janie had asked one night, to which Max had chuckled in his manly way.

  “Speaking of cock…” Everyone had started laughing uncontrollably. That was the night that Janie had fallen totally and completely in lust with Max.

  Yep, she wanted that man. He was always friendly, and even flirty, but she never took it seriously. The man had women throwing themselves at him, she witnessed it every Thursday night. Sure, Lyla said that Max treated Janie differently than he did other women, but she couldn’t see it. She knew she wasn’t in his league. Hell, they didn’t even play the same sport. She was happy just being friends with Max. Okay, maybe not happy…but she would rather be friends than nothing.

  As soon as Lyla had spoken the words “sex with friends,” Janie’s eyes had found Max. A shiver ran up her spine when his emerald eyes bore into hers. She wanted to touch him—it felt almost painful not to—but she’d resisted the urge by lifting her glass to her lips while keeping her eyes fixed on his. This was Max, her friend. Of course she could touch him. She had touched him hundreds of times before. But with the thoughts running rampant through her mind she feared that if she so much as brushed the skin on his hand right now, she would burn to ashes.

  Sex with friends—God, she needed to get laid. Or to quote Lyla, she needed “a good fuck.”

  Janie subtly brought her cool hands up to her warm cheeks, hoping no one could see the flush that was forming from her thoughts. The desire to feel needed and loved kept leading her to the wrong guys, but she kept trying to find her own “Happily Ever After” anyway. As unrealistic as she knew it may be, she couldn’t let go of her childhood fantasies, the ones where she dreamed that one day, someday, she would find someone who would make her feel whole. Complete. Cherished. Loved. What she actually found, though, ran the gamut between the boring and bland to the douchey, cheating assholes.

  And her sex life always bordered on “why bother?” She’d had enough men tell her that she was frigid and cold in bed to realize they were probably right. But she could accept boring, unfulfilling sex if it came with an honest, loving man.

  She watched Max pour a beer with his perfectly sculpted forearms and slide it to the customer in front of him. What she would do for Max…God, what wouldn’t she do for Max?

  Her mouth suddenly dry, she picked up her glass and let the sweet liquid hit her lips.

  “So, Max…what time do you get off tonight?” Lyla asked as Janie choked on her drink.

  With all eyes on her—and her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment or lust—she shrugged. “What? You asked what time he gets off…that’s funny! Come on, Ly...that’s funny.” Lyla smirked.

  “I don’t know when, or if, he will be ‘getting off’ tonight, but he gets off work right now,” Danny said with a wink to Janie and a squeeze to Max’s shoulder. Max gave Danny a questioning, are-you-sure look, and Danny nodded.

  “Well, then, I guess I’m done for the night,” Max said, his gaze landing on Janie.

  Janie looked at Lyla, eyes big as saucers. “Um…”

  “I’m kind of exhausted,” Lyla said, stretching. “I think I’m gonna head out. I need to be up early tomorrow. Max, would you mind taking Janie home? You know where she lives, right?” Janie’s jaw dropped. Lyla knew the answer to that question before she asked it. Max had been to Janie’s apartment several times for Sunday dinner.

  Max nodded. “My pleasure.”

  A jolt of electricity surged through his body as he made his way out from behind the bar.

  Janie’s body was still, but her heart was racing.

  Lyla tapped her on the shoulder. “Janie?”

  “Ly, I’ll come with you, no worries.”

  Max weaved his arm around Janie’s waist though, pulling her away from Lyla. “Sex with friends, Janie,” he whispered into her ear, a question in his voice.

  Exhaling what felt like all of the air in her body, she looked into the greenest eyes she had ever seen. “Max…I don’t know…I mean—”

  “Let me take you home tonight, Janie. I’ve been thinking about you for months. Don’t tell me it’s one-sided.” His confident grin told her that he knew the attraction went both ways.

  Between the warmth of his breath and his woodsy, clean smell, Janie had goose bumps running down her arms. Her focus keened on Max while addressing Lyla.

  “Ly, I’ll…um…”

  “Talk to me t
omorrow.” Lyla slung her purse over her shoulder. “Hey, Max, be a kind man and a good boy,” she warned.

  Something sexy quickly passed over Max’s handsome face before he smiled his patented lazy grin. “I promise to be a kind man.” Max winked and led Janie out the door.

  “By the way,” he said in her ear, “the Jeep had a flat tire, so I had to drive my other car.”

  Excitement rushed through Janie’s body at the impending ride…and she wasn’t just thinking about Max’s Ferrari.

  Scanning the bar, Lyla watched as people began to pair off and leave together. Once Janie and Max left, she’d sat back down and ordered another drink. She glanced toward the corner table where she had seen the guy she wanted desperately to take home herself earlier in the evening. She had seen him at the bar on other nights but never talked to him. They had shared some pretty steamy looks, too, though he had never approached her. Normally she wouldn’t play so coy, but there was something about him that kept her from making the first move. She could tell he’d be dangerous for her. Not menacing or scary, but something worse…

  She tried to shake his shadowed face from her mind. Her body reacted every time she saw him, and now even when she just thought of him. See? Dangerous. She was never lacking for male companionship, as Danny so thoughtfully pointed out earlier that night, and she snorted to herself. Something about her mystery man was different. He was the kind of guy she would write about in her novels. Tall, dark, brooding, and all alpha male. She didn’t know how she knew this without ever speaking a single word to him—she just did. But his chair sat empty, so what did it matter?

  She shrugged and took another sip of her drink, then snickered to herself as her thoughts slid back to Janie and Max. “All I had to do was light the match. Here’s to the fire.” Lyla raised her glass to toast her good deed and took a deep pull of the sweet concoction.

  “Don’t stand too close to the fire until you’re ready to feel the burn.” A gravelly voice whispered the words in her ear from behind and sent tingles down her spine.