by Marie Harte
Johnny frowned. He had more than a big dick going for him. He had a steady job, a good life with good friends. He had substance…
Didn’t he?
* * *
When Johnny found her again, Lara had already downed two rum and Cokes and had ordered another. “Please,” she said to forestall him. “I’ve had a hell of a week, and I was really looking forward to tonight. So no more talk about my personal finances, or I’ll throw this amazing drink all over your saintly ass.”
Next to her, Frankenstein chuckled. “I’d believe her, man. If you’re Johnny, she’s been ranting about you for like ten minutes.” He left, and Johnny took his place after ordering what she had.
“What?” She’d pounded back her drink, liking the burn, only to see him staring at her.
Two—no, three—drinks. Her minimum to a good time. Not that she needed to drink to have fun, but it had been so long since she’d had a nice buzz. She wasn’t driving, and damn it, she deserved to forget about her problems just once.
“I agree,” Johnny said, a hint of humor in his eyes.
“Huh?”
“You were talking out loud, said you deserved to forget your problems.”
“Yeah, well, you try managing a full course load, mean precepts, working at Ray’s, and a needy boyfriend who doesn’t have the balls to tell you he loves you.” That he didn’t seem to find amusing. “Then again, maybe he doesn’t love me.”
“Maybe you don’t love him.”
“Maybe I don’t.” Maybe this, maybe that. “Maybe he’s just using me until something better comes along.”
He stood and pulled her close. “Or maybe he’s afraid you’ll dump him if he pours his heart out to you.”
Feeling the burn of alcohol and the liberation of telling the truth, she responded with, “Well, maybe he’s a pussy who can’t open up. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
And maybe she’d hit a little too hard. His eyes looked like jade shards.
“I like this maybe game.” He slapped a few bills on the bar and pulled her with him toward the exit. “Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink. Maybe you have a mean side to you after all.”
“And maybe you’d better get me to a toilet before I’m sick.”
She made it to the bathroom in time to expel the contents of her three drinks and some appetizers. “Oh. I was right. Those cheese balls were sitting out too long.” She groaned and felt gentle hands holding back her hair.
“When I said not to vomit on anyone earlier, I meant you too.”
“Hell.” She pushed herself to stand, glad at least she’d held it until the restroom. Outside the stall, Johnny still helped hold her upright, and she saw sympathy and appreciation in the women around her. Sympathy for her illness, appreciation for Johnny. “Hey, he’s with me.” She yanked him with her outside the restroom and outside the party.
Then she stopped. “Sorry. I don’t mean to ruin tonight for you. Call me a cab, and I’ll go home.”
“I don’t think so. You’re possessed all right.” He helped her to his car, then drove her back to her place while she alternated between staring at the dark city outside and dozing, suddenly bone-deep exhausted. She hadn’t been lying when she’d mentioned her long week. When they arrived at her apartment, instead of berating her for the maybe game, Johnny made sure she got inside, helped her change into her favorite ratty pajamas, and waited while she brushed her teeth, then tucked her in bed.
Suddenly she didn’t want him to go. “Wait.” She shot out a hand and gripped his larger one. A pitiful move, but enough to keep him there. Tears burned behind her eyes. “Why are you such a douche?”
“What?” He blinked down at her, and she wasn’t so tired she couldn’t tell she’d surprised him.
“You’re distracting me from my work. I spend too much time and money on you. You’re nice to my nieces, and even I find them scary.” She paused, trying to get her thoughts together.
“Go on. I know you have more you need to say,” he said, sounding stiff and a little angry and…so damn pretty.
She chuckled. “You’re too good-looking for your own good. You snagged me with those green eyes and that amazing body. Too bad the rest of you isn’t just pretty.”
He froze, but she didn’t make anything of his reaction, too caught up in her feelings. I could handle just pretty. But mesmerizing, amazing, good at heart, that’s too tough to deny. She mumbled an “I love you” but thought she heard the door shut on her words. No matter. She’d tell him later. Her stomach rumbled. Right after she threw up a few more times. Damn cheeseballs.
Chapter 20
Well, he couldn’t say he hadn’t known it would be coming. Johnny Devlin, fallen for a woman only to have her dump him right when he’d fallen in real, fucking love with her. Wait. Johnny Devlin? Sounded a lot like Jack Devlin.
“I am so like my father,” he muttered Monday afternoon as he worked like an automaton. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Standing over an engine and battering a stubborn bolt that refused to release, he felt someone tugging at his back pocket. “What?” he snarled.
“In my office,” Del growled. “Now.”
He added another “Fuck” for good measure. But no one reminded him of ROP. They’d taken one look at him this morning and said little. The guys had seen Pete on Saturday night. No doubt they thought Lara had thrown him over for some rich asshole in a killer zombie-hunter outfit. And by killer he meant good. Figured the guy she ditched him for would be someone into the movies they liked.
All along he’d known this relationship would end. Seeing Pete with Lara had reinforced just how much better she could do than him. Too bad the rest of you isn’t just pretty… His heart broke all over again. He dropped his wrench with a clatter and stormed past concerned faces to Del’s office. Once inside, he dropped into the chair across from her desk, determined to keep a civil tongue in his head. He was hurting like a bitch. Like a motherfucking, soul-sucking bitch, but insulting his boss was a sure-fire way to sever him from the only thing that mattered right now in his life.
“I need some time off,” he said evenly, knowing he needed a break before he broke.
Del rounded her desk and leaned her butt against it. She crossed her tatted forearms over her chest and just stared at him. No concern, no affection, not even annoyance. The blank stare annoyed him.
“What?” he snapped. “I owe you money, right? I’ll have to dig it out fucking later.”
She just watched him with those icy gray eyes. How the hell did McCauley sleep at night next to such a predatory female? “Johnny.” Just his name, and he felt burning behind his eyes.
“I need a break,” he said again, worried his voice would catch and he’d dissolve in tears. Humiliating to be such a pussy after working so hard to show he wasn’t one. He might like books, he might care about women’s feelings, but he could be a macho head case like the best of them.
Del laid a hand on his knee, and he tensed. “Honey, you take as long as you need. Dad and I are right here anytime you need to talk.” Then she fucked him over royally by kissing him on the top of the head.
Those tears he’d been fighting back swam in his eyes.
He rose and bolted through the other door, so the guys wouldn’t see him. He wiped his cheeks once out of the garage. Then he drove home, swearing all the way.
* * *
Lara had no idea what to do. Johnny had avoided her yesterday, and she felt like a horse’s ass for drinking too much and eating those nasty appetizers when she knew better. She remembered everything—of course—because far be it from God to be merciful to fools who couldn’t hold their liquor or their cheeseballs.
Johnny might have mistaken her words. No maybe about it. She cringed at the thought of the words. Not a great game to play when feeling ill. Still, despite saying whatever she’d exactly said, he should have been around to talk to about it. Their first fight. In a way, it made her smile. Now they were a real couple. No one got a
long all the time. Better to fight now than to dig in deep with a relationship and realize later they had no idea how to patch things up.
She drove to the garage, determined to speak with him. She hadn’t wanted to miss class, so she’d waited until after noon. Now, neat and pretty and dressed in her finest ass-hugging denims and a soft pink sweater, she left her car and headed for Del’s office.
Walking through the garage was an eye-opener. She’d never seen where Johnny worked. She looked around for him but saw nothing but hostility. So she stopped.
“Don’t even think about looking at me like that.” She planted her hands on her hips, aggravated with men in general. She glanced around but still saw no sign of Johnny. “There wasn’t, nor is there, anything going on between me and Pete. And my finances are my own business. Where’s Del?”
Foley frowned at her. “What happened with you two?”
She sighed. “I need to talk to Mr. Blows Things Out of Proportion. Is he around?”
“Ah, no. You might want to talk to Del.”
“Why?” She glanced at Del’s door. “Is he in there?”
“He was,” Lou said, looking stern. “Don’t fuck with my boy.”
“Don’t fuck with me.” She walked into Lou’s personal space, ignoring the tools and greasy stuff around them. “Next time I’m with my boyfriend, you keep your nosey ass out of it.” She poked him in his rock-hard chest for good measure, then turned on her heel to find Del. Behind her, she heard clapping.
“Sam, not now,” Foley said.
“And fuck you too, Sam,” Lou growled.
“We told you you were wrong. Asshole.”
Lou and Sam started going at it, until Liam poked his head out from a spare room and sighed. “It’s a Monday, for sure.”
She hurried to Del’s office, only to be met with a glare similar to the one Lou had shot her.
“Don’t even.” Lara shut the door behind her. “Where’s Johnny?”
“He’s taking the day off. Apparently you broke his heart.”
Lara groaned and fell into a surprisingly comfortable office chair. “God. I was half-smashed and sick from a mild case of food poisoning. Mr. Sensitive refused to take my calls yesterday. I mean, Jesus. We can’t have a simple fight, and he’s ducking me? That’s kind of pathetic.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Something about him being pretty and not so pretty. But I must have pushed some buttons, because he’s avoiding me.”
“So you’re not breaking it off with him.” Del watched her.
“Not that I’m aware of.” Lara stood. “But if we can’t even have a fight and we’re over, what did we really have to start with?”
A good question Del couldn’t answer, and neither could Lara. On her way to Johnny’s house, Lara kept asking herself how to make this right. An apology, sure. But then… They had to talk about this. If they had any chance of moving forward, they had to be able to fight and make up. Considering Johnny didn’t seem to have much history in the way of long-term relationships, she figured maybe she’d teach him a thing or two.
When she arrived at his house, she didn’t see his car. So she left. She tried calling him a few times that day. And the next. And the day after that.
A full week went by.
Still no word from Johnny. The jackass apparently meant they were over. This was no game, and it appeared she had no say-so in the matter.
Well fuck that.
She refused to go to the garage, looking for a confrontation. What needed to be said would happen between them and them alone. She didn’t mention her problems to her family or friends, wanting to talk to her friggin’ boyfriend about them first. Rena knew, by the sympathy in her gaze, but she didn’t say anything about it, respecting Lara’s need to handle it herself.
“Here if you need me,” Rena had murmured once at Ray’s, then said nothing more.
A good friend, unlike the dumbass destroying her heart.
A week later, Lara tried his house again and hit pay dirt. His car sat in the driveway.
Before she lost her anger in a fit of tears, she told herself to remain strong and knocked on his door.
Taking a page out of his book, she slipped inside past him the moment he opened it. “Well? Shut the door, and let’s talk about this.”
He closed it and turned to face her. He had his shirt off, his arms and chest gleaming with sweat. A mean look darkened his eyes.
She forced herself to swallow and think about anything but sex. Except he must have been thinking the same thing, because he met her midway, no words needed. They ate at each other, tearing at clothing. Then he bent her over the couch, ripped her pants and panties down, and unzipped enough to free his cock. He pushed inside her, and she knew nothing but raw need. Flesh slapped flesh, the scent of sex and desperation settled over them, and she wanted him more than anything.
In no time he was banging her into a roaring orgasm and following her with a groan of his own. Leaning over the couch, now replete and a bit giddy, she clenched her thighs, keeping him inside her. Tears sprouted, because she’d missed this—missed him.
She waited for him to withdraw, hoping he’d say something—anything—but wasn’t surprised he kept silent. The stubborn SOB. Feeling vulnerable, she rushed to clean up in the bathroom, shoring her nerve for what she knew would be a major confrontation. Talk about hurt feelings.
Lara returned to find him drinking a beer and leaning against the kitchen counter.
He hadn’t done more than button up his jeans halfway, and he could have modeled for a Bad Boys with ’Tude calendar, he was that much a combination of “angry meets sexy.”
“Good to know I’m pretty enough for a fast fuck.”
“And we’re back to reality.” She sighed. “What’s going on, Johnny?”
He put the beer down and planted his hands on his hips, probably so he wouldn’t be tempted to put them around her neck. “You have some serious balls to ask me that. Don’t you remember what you said to me?”
“What is this really about? Look. We had a tiny fight. Are you saying we can’t get past this?” Whatever this was.
“Tiny fight?” He huffed. “Baby, you basically called me worthless. You seemed to have more fun with your preppy dickhead lunch buddy at the party. The guy who knows all about your money problems. You don’t share important shit with me, but you do with him? But that’s right. I’m the guy you hate because I’m taking you away from your regularly scheduled life.”
Angry again and glad of it, she forced herself to speak slowly, calmly, and with icy disdain. “First of all, I was sick and not in my right mind.”
“You mean you finally had the stones to tell me the truth. Good for fucking you.”
She ignored that. Barely. “Second, Pete is my friend. That’s all.”
“Then why didn’t you ever mention him?”
“Because it wasn’t a big deal to me. Do you mention all the women you’re friends with to me? All the Dorys and Jennas and Bubbles? You know, the ones who prance around half-naked?”
Not even a flinch. “I introduced you to them.”
“Not all of them. And Pete’s never danced naked for me, so I have to say, I think I’m winning that argument.”
Johnny looked like he wanted to yell right back—and when had she raised her voice?—before his expression just deadened. “This is stupid. You know what? I knew we wouldn’t last. That you’d dump me eventually. I saved you the trouble. I’m good for a lay, for some fun, and hey, a laugh or two. We can still be friends. But we should dial back the dating thing before it gets too serious, huh?”
She just stared at him, seeing a lot she hadn’t seen before. “You’re scared.”
“What?”
“You. You’re scared. Of me.”
He looked hunted then scowled. “Lara, I think you should leave. I’ve tolerated a lot from you, but you just keep insulting me. And I’m done with it.” With you went unsaid.
Her heart seemed to rip in two, but then she started putting the pieces of the puzzle together. His father, a stream of women through his life, his friends warning her to treat him gently. All the years of them dancing around each other until she’d taken the initiative with him and seen him as more than a fun-filled fling.
“Yeah? Well I’m not done with you.” She walked right up to him and would have poked him like she’d poked Lou, but to her shock, Johnny picked her up and physically carried her out of the house. He put her on her feet on his welcome mat then locked her out.
Stunned, she turned and faced the door. She knocked once, then again. “You coward! How dare you?” She waited a moment, got no response, then continued, “Fine. You want to have this conversation through a door? You got it.” She raged at him, and an image of her sister’s words popped into her head. “My sister told me to take a chance. I did it and got screwed for it. So up yours, Johnny. I’m not scared to try. I put myself out there for a guy everyone knows gets around. Mr. One-Night Stand, but I thought you were different. I get that you have issues. Everyone does. But you won’t even fight for me? Not an argument or some tears? Just giving in?
“Well, fuck you. I deserve better than that.” Great. Now I’m crying. “I hate that you’d rather throw us away than try. Really? So you can do it before I do? Guess what, genius? You just made your own fears come true. Except it’s not me dumping us. It’s you.
“I’m not going to wait around forever. If you don’t have any interest in fighting for me—for us—then I don’t have time for you.”
She kicked his screen door and left a dent. She meant to leave before looking like an insane woman, but she couldn’t help it. She screamed, needing to release a little of her own rage and pain. “You are such a dick! I can’t believe you’re so scared of being dumped that you’d ruin such a great thing. And over what? A throwaway comment about being pretty? Oh. You make me want to…” She kicked his door again, then realized the futility of it. “What the fuck am I angry over? This was all apparently just a nothing of a relationship to begin with, wasn’t it? All in my head that we could be something special.”