by Marie Harte
“Liar.” Lara tucked the thing into her back pocket and sighed. “So what did it say?”
“That Johnny hopes to see you later. And that since you get off at one tonight, you can either go home with him for a late dinner, or you guys can get together tomorrow. For date number three.” Rena practically danced in place. “Three? What happened to one and two? When did you go out? What did you do?” Rena’s eyes widened. “Did you do him?”
“Would you shut up.” Lara’s face was on fire. “I’ll tell you about it all later. Hey, how did he know I get off at one?”
“You told him. Actually, your phone told him. I texted for you.”
Lara groaned. “Don’t let anyone else know about this, okay?”
“Fine. But you owe me details. You know my social life exists through you.” Across from them at the bar, a big man belched. “Yeah, so not happening here.”
Lara chuckled and continued to serve. It was like people were coming out of the woodwork. Ray had to be bursting at the seams. Not that the place didn’t bring in customers, but a lot of them had tabs they’d keep open for days on end. Regulars kept the bar steady, but new clientele paid by the order.
By the far front of the bar, she saw Earl and Big J handling a few rowdy patrons. The motorcycle do-gooders, a group of rough-looking guys gathered for a decent cause, didn’t seem involved. Yet. It was only a matter of time before some drunk banged into one of them and started a brawl.
She watched as a few of their regulars gave the group the evil eye. “Hey, Sue.”
Sue sidled next to her and gave her a hip bump. “Yeah?”
“Five bucks says either Drew, Jim, or Red starts some stuff with the new guys.”
“Oh, you’re on. I’m thinking it’ll be Henry.” Sue had a point, because Henry found himself a fight every time he showed up to Ray’s. “I hate to take your money. Sure you want to bet on Drew, Jim, and Red?”
Lara knew her favorite local hotheads would never make it past midnight without starting something. She nodded. “Five bucks.” Foley and Sam walked into the bar, followed by Johnny. I’m not excited by his presence; it’s just the rush of anticipating a fight. Yeah right. “One more thing. If I win, you have to be nice to Foley all night too.”
“That’s harsh.” Sue frowned, and the piercings in her brows nearly touched. “Okay. I’m nice to Foley if I lose. I win, you’re nice to Johnny.”
“And you say I’m harsh? Fine, you’re on.” Was she really that bitchy to Johnny that Sue would make that part of the bet? Sure, Lara had been a little standoffish, maybe even taunting before, but mostly that was in fun—and to stop her from throwing herself at him. Of course, that was all before their “dating” status.
Rena knew. That made it official, in some weird way. Rena—the gossip queen—knew.
Someone moved off the stool in front of her, and a new customer took his place.
“Be right back. I swear, your order is next on my list.” She hurried from the bar and grabbed Rena in the back.
“What?”
Lara tugged Rena’s golden-brown hair, and in a low voice said, “Swear you’ll say nothing about me and Johnny, or I’ll straighten all your glorious curls one by one. The hard way.”
Rena squealed when she pulled. “Swear! Now let go. And, girl, you owe me some serious deets.”
“Whatever. Just keep it quiet, loudmouth.”
“I’m hurt. I never—”
Lara walked out on the rampant gossiper and returned to the bar. She served the guy waiting then turned to see Foley and Sam muscling their way toward her, cutting a swath through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. But with drunks.
Sam grunted when he saw her, but Foley had a charming grin on his face. “Hi, beautiful.”
Johnny edged in next to him, irritating the man who’d been sitting near Foley, though the guy said nothing. “Hey, Lara.” He glared at Foley. “She’s busy. Quit flirting and order something.”
Foley only smiled wider. “Sure, sure. A pitcher for me and Sam. And a virgin daiquiri for Johnny. Choir boy is trying to keep his head on straight, lately.”
“Virgin, huh?” Sam didn’t smile, but he did smirk a little.
“Ass. Gimme a bottle,” Johnny said. “And one for the poor guy I’m half stepping on.” He nodded at the guy next to him.
The guy, with a neck almost as thick as Foley’s, tipped his beer at Johnny. “Thanks.”
Sam rolled his eyes.
Foley snorted and said loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the general vicinity, “Always afraid of offending somebody. Jesus, Johnny. Grow a pair.”
“Such a pussy,” Sam growled.
Johnny ignored the guys and paid his bill. Lara slid one beer to the man beside him, then opened a bottle of Johnny’s favorite and gave it to him. A roar in the crowd behind him turned their attention.
“Sue!” Lara pointed at the fracas, where Drew had an annoyed biker in a headlock while the biker’s large friends tried to pry him free. Then the hitting started.
“Now that’s a dude I’d hang with.” Sam took the pitcher Lara gave him and strode away, for a table right near all the trouble. As soon as he sat, someone bumped into him. Sam shoved back. The biker straightened and said something to Sam that had Sam standing and glowering like a demon. He clenched his fists and ducked the first swing aimed at his face.
“Shit. This was supposed to be a fun Friday. Hey, Lara, run me a tab.” Foley gave her a credit card she tucked into her pocket.
“Sure. Oh, and Foley, if Sue’s not nice to you tonight, you tell me.”
“Huh?”
“I won our bet.”
Foley brightened up. “Aw, sweetheart, you bet on me?” He leaned over the bar and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. “I owe ya.”
He darted next to Sam into the fight, which had turned into a free-for-all. At least she didn’t need to worry about ducking behind the bar. The bikers had rallied around those throwing punches, keeping them from dragging anyone else into the scuffle. She turned to see Johnny scowling at her.
“What the hell was that?”
“What? He kissed me.”
“Yeah, not happy about that either,” he muttered. “But what do you care if Sue’s nice to him or not? You’re all into Foley now?”
Johnny acted…jealous. The man did not, as long as she’d known him, do jealousy. Even Rena had commented on his laid-back attitude toward women. While dating, he treated his partners with courtesy and fidelity, if not extended commitment. Flirting was no big deal.
Yet he seemed to continue to break all his own rules. He hadn’t told anyone about them dating. And actually caring about Foley flirting with her?
Lara didn’t like playing games, but she couldn’t help herself. Not now, with Johnny looking so fierce. And friggin’ hot. His green eyes burned, and his firm lips twisted. He had a hint of shadow on his jaw, his hair was tousled, and the T-shirt he wore, in flagrant defiance of the cold weather outside, showed off his thick biceps to perfection.
She swallowed a sigh at said muscles and teased, “Well, I put Foley in the bet with Sue, mostly to needle Sue. But that kiss… That was nice.”
His scowl darkened. “Nice?”
“Sweet.” She smiled and played with her ponytail. “Foley’s a great guy.”
“Sweet,” he repeated. “Nice.” His scowl faded, replaced by a slow smile. “I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.” He chuckled then leaned close. “So tonight? My place?”
She’d been thinking of nothing but his offer since Rena had blabbed. Was she ready for Johnny? Staring into his eyes, it took all her willpower not to close the distance between them and kiss him. “Okay. Tonight.” She felt hot all over.
His satisfaction was impossible to miss. “I’ll send you directions, but feel free to follow me real close. Hang on tight, like you want it—dinner at my place, I mean,” he added with a wicked grin on his face.
“Oh stop. I’m busy, Devlin.”
&n
bsp; “You will be,” he said as he moved away.
Then another customer grabbed her attention, and she lost Johnny in the crowd.
* * *
Johnny sat at the table next to Foley, who wiped blood from his mouth, and watched Sam duke it out with some seven-foot-tall freak who made Foley look small. An even match, until the pair just stopped fighting and stepped back from each other.
“Nice,” Sam grunted.
“Not bad.” The biker held out a bloody-knuckled hand and shook Sam’s.
“Come to Strutts next week. I’ll be bouncing there. Can get you in for a discount.”
“Sounds good.” The big guy and his friends cheered Sam then just walked away.
Sam skirted poor Drew on the floor and sat with them. But Drew had to be dragged out of the bar by Earl. The bastard didn’t look so good.
“What the fuck, Sam?” Foley’s tone didn’t bode for a peaceful evening.
Johnny waited for the shit to hit the fan.
“I blew off a little steam. So what?” Sam downed a glass of beer and poured another.
“One of these days you’re going to pick a fight with the wrong guy. Then you’re on your own.”
Sam stilled for a moment, met Foley’s gaze, then looked away. “Yeah, whatever.”
“I mean it.”
Sam finished a second beer in record time. Johnny glanced at Foley, who hadn’t taken his gaze from his friend.
“Sorry, okay?” Sam sounded defensive. “I just needed to relax a little.”
Foley shook his head. “Dude, smoke some weed. I know, I know. You don’t do drugs. Get laid or something. Chill the fuck out before you’re locked up again.”
“Again?” Johnny asked, concerned.
Foley explained, “This asshole got into a fight a few months back and got booked, but his accuser backed off, so no charges were filed.”
“Seriously?” Johnny knew that like him, the pair had been imprisoned at a young age for something stupid. Nothing so cool as car theft, more like breaking into a house and getting caught, then carted off to prison for burglary.
Sam emptied the pitcher into his glass. “I thought we were just fooling around, but when the guy lost in front of his girlfriend, he turned me in.”
“Until I talked to him and he changed his mind,” Foley said.
“Does ‘talked to him’ mean you threatened with your fists or your mouth?” Johnny asked. “You do have a tendency to talk people to death.”
Foley gave a grim smile. “I just told him what an asshole he’d look like to his girl and buddies if they knew he’d put my friend in jail for a friendly fight he started.”
Johnny protested. “See? That’s what I would have done. And you called me a pussy for it earlier.”
“I didn’t.”
“I did,” Sam admitted. Instead of downing his drink, he took measured sips. “And you are. But Foley did me a solid, so he’s good.”
“I’m so glad.” Johnny snorted. “Nice double standard you have there, Hamilton.”
Sam gave him a rare grin. Despite his fight, he had nothing more than bruised knuckles to show for it. And his hands normally appeared pretty worn. But hearing he’d been in a friendly fight a few months ago confirmed a suspicion Johnny had had about his friend.
“So, Sam…do the underground fights pay much?”
Foley swore under his breath. “One word, Devlin, I break you in half.”
“Please. Who am I going to tell? Lou? Del?” Johnny snorted. “If Lou doesn’t already know, he’ll only want in on the action. Del might protest a little, but she’ll never can Sam. She has a soft spot for him.”
Sam flushed. “She does not.”
“Yeah, she does,” Foley said. “Count yourself lucky.”
Johnny nodded. “And if Liam knew, he’d just go all fatherly on your ass and lecture you to behave. Kind of the way he’s been giving advice to all of us forever. Hell, in the seven years I’ve been there, he’s always telling me to stay on the straight and narrow. I get it after the first few years, but we’re going on seven and a half. Just the other day he reminded me not to joyride in our client’s Camaro. Seriously?”
Foley grinned, seeming more at ease, as had been Johnny’s intention. “Maybe because he overheard you and Lou fighting about it. Next time you boost a car, don’t do Lou’s project.”
“I just wanted to make sure I still had it.”
Sam added, “Gave him a heart attack that it was missing. Maybe you should do it again.”
Johnny let out a breath of relief. Easy Sam was back. “He is a little too full of himself sometimes, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, but God knows he’s got skills.” Foley used his finger to draw in the condensation on the table. “He’ll be gone next week, working that paint job for Molarino’s Corvette. I think he talked Mol into being a little more dynamic, though.”
“Should turn out nice. Lou still putting together his work for that portfolio Liam told him to build?”
Sam nodded. Talk centered around the garage and some of their favorite rebuilds. Then, as usual, it degenerated into bitching about their favorite worst clients, namely the older women who came in to ogle the guys. Del had moved to put a stop to it, being all anti-sexual harassment, until Foley had told her it helped drum up business, and none of them cared. Liam had kindly told her to un-PC her head out of her ass, because he’d hired real men to work for him, not assholes.
Liam, Lord love him, had not quite jumped on the progressive bandwagon, and probably never would. He was fair, nonjudgmental, but truly old school.
“I love how we get ROP, and she’s telling the lot of us to ‘fuck off’ and ‘hell if she’s ever standing up for our male rights again.’” Foley grinned. “Classic Del.”
“Yeah.” Johnny loved his boss. “McCauley dicks her over, his ass is toast. Cute kid or not, he’ll be going down.”
Sam nodded and cracked his knuckles, looking fierce.
“Easy, big guy.” Foley sighed. “You’re supposed to be chilling, since you just worked out your aggression. You know what you need? Some woman to fuck the fight right out of you.”
“Now who’s not PC?” Johnny had to add. “Let me tell you about women, my friends.”
Sam groaned and drank more.
Foley glanced at the bar then back at Johnny. “Really? Didn’t we just have a talk about—”
“Women like romance,” Johnny interrupted. “Now, I’m not talking about ’til death do us part. I’m talking about finding a nice girl to have some fun with. Like, say, the ladies at Strutts you two have been circling for weeks. Yeah, Sam. I saw you ogling Shaya. Now, you want a shot with her? Let me tell you all you need to know. Number one, respect more than her ass.”
“Hey.” Sam frowned. “I like her tits just as much.”
Foley winced. “It’s like he’s not even trying to be a jackass. It’s natural.”
Sam told him to stick his head somewhere unpleasant. Foley responded in kind. And Johnny’s words were lost beneath juvenile insults that had him laughing so hard he almost snorted beer through his nose.
Talk about a sweet night. He looked over at the crowd by the bar. A night about to get seriously sweeter, if he had his way. He glanced at his cell phone.
Just two more hours.
Just one hour and fifty-five minutes…and fifty-three minutes…fifty-two…
He groaned, realizing the clock would now move backward for him, and wondered if Lara looked forward to their date, or if she regretted agreeing to a late night with him. One that might or might not mean more than dinner.
As usual, he couldn’t be sure of the look she’d shot him earlier. Did “dinner” mean sex or a real meal? Either way, his dick got hard anytime he remembered what she’d done with those lips.
He swallowed a sigh.
“I’ll grab us another pitcher,” Foley offered.
Johnny grabbed him by the arm, in no condition to get up just then. “Let Sam do it. And no kissing the ba
rtender,” he ordered.
Sam glanced from him to Foley, grinned again—the bastard—and left with an empty pitcher. He returned with a full one and a smirk. “I got cheek. Closer than Johnny’s getting, huh?”
Foley laughed his ass off, but Johnny found nothing humorous about Sam or his cheek.
“Either one of you kisses her again, I’ll wipe the floor with you.” Before Sam could threaten, Johnny added, “I’m fast, and I’m smart. I’ll outflank you in no time. And remember, I have an in with all the girls at Strutts. Think hard about your next comment.”
Sam opened and closed his mouth. Then sat with a sigh. “You suck.” He poured them all beers, having even brought Johnny a glass, then drank.
Johnny drank with him, pleased to have shut Sam up. Even Foley remained quiet. Now if only he could win over Lara as easily…
* * *
She followed him home without issue. He made sure to drive slowly enough so as not to lose her, after he’d texted her his address and directions. He really didn’t want her bailing on his invitation.
The whole ride home he kept wondering how to handle tonight. Yeah, he wanted sex. He wanted it hard, slow, then fast and intense. Everything and anything with Lara. But more than that, he wanted her to enjoy it, to crave it—with him.
They parked in his driveway, and he walked her to the front door, glad for the darkness that shrouded his bare lawn and abysmal gardening skills. The evergreens by the garage had grown wild, and he’d never had more than dead weeds bordering the front. The paint job could use another coat, but at least the cold made mowing the lawn unnecessary. Dormant gray grass seemed kept enough.
“This is your place, huh? Not what I was expecting.”
He didn’t know whether to take that as an insult or compliment.
“I mean, I don’t see any poles or dancers.” She sneered at him before losing the expression to a building laugh.
He shook his head, more than amused. As much as she liked to bring up his association—through his father—with strip clubs, she didn’t seem put off by it. “Such a smart-ass.” He unlocked the door and ushered her inside, then locked it behind them. It was all he could do not to rub his hands together gleefully and chortle like a villain. Lovely Lara Valley, all to myself…