The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (83 page)

What I really want to do is kick every last one of their asses out of my restaurant.  I don’t want them anywhere near me or near Evan.  If I could get away with it, I would tell them all that they are crazy psycho bitches who have no hope of ever getting someone like Evan to even look at them twice.

Then it occurs to me, suppose Evan decides to stop by just to check on things?  The team is still off for another week and he has nothing to do.  I’m sure by now his personal trainer has come and gone and he’ll be looking for something to keep himself busy.  After the way I intentionally ran into him this morning, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he decided to return the favor. 

I can feel my heart quicken.  I begin to panic.  The last thing I want to see happen is for Evan to walk in on this congregation of horny, insistent women.  Just based on the sheer number that are here today, it seems mathematically likely that at least one of them may be unstable or aggressive.  Suppose someone says something or gestures in a way that reminds him of Averee?   How would he react?

I pull Marcus away from his bouncer duties so I can call Evan.  I slip into my office and close the door.  I am relieved when he answers on the first ring.  “Hey, gorgeous.  I was just thinking about you.”

“Hi Evan.  I was just thinking about you, too.  What are you up to?”  I try to be as evasive as possible.

“I’m in the car on my way to my parents’ house.  I haven’t visited in a while, and my mother’s been hounding me to come home for dinner once before the season starts.  I couldn’t put her off any longer.  Listen, I’m halfway there, but just say the word and I’ll turn this car around and pick you up.  Want to join us for dinner, Juliette?  I know Mom would love to see you.”

“Gosh, Evan, I can’t.  Things are crazy here at Rush.  They need me here.”  I’m so relieved that he’s out of town.  That means there won’t be any unwanted confrontations tonight.

“Do you need me to help?  I could be there in half an hour.  Would an extra pair of hands help?”

“No!” I answer way too quickly.  “That’s okay.  The lunch shift is almost over.  It should slow down for a while until dinner.  Don’t worry about it, Evan.  We can handle it.”

“Are you sure?  I wouldn’t mind,” he insists.

“Evan, no.  We’ll be fine.  I just called because I wanted to tell you that I saw your commercial this morning.  It’s been playing all day today.”

“Yeah, I saw it too.  What did you think?” he asks.

“It was amazing.  Did they film it in the Sentinel’s workout room?  It looked familiar.”

“It was.  I’m surprised you remember.  You were only there that one time.”

“Evan, I remember every place you’ve ever taken me.”

He answers with one word, “Good.” 

“I have to go.  I’ll talk to you soon.  Please give everyone a hug for me.”

“Okay.  Go make us some money, baby.  Juliette, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Remember, I love you.”

“I know.  I love you, too.”

I hang up the phone and return to the bar, sending Marcus back into the fray to deal with the crazed fans.  Eventually Emmy calms down enough to return to her post.  Periodically throughout the night, there are lulls where things are slow enough that we can actually talk a little.

“Jette, I didn’t understand what it was like for you until tonight.  I’m so sorry I didn’t take your problems more seriously.”  She grabs me and hugs me tightly.  “Tonight sucked balls, big time.  We need a girls’ night out, don’t you think?”

“Emmy, you have no idea how much I need a night out.  What do you have in mind?”

“Okay, here’s the plan.  We’re closed on Monday and Tuesday, right?”

“Right.”

“Perfect.  Monday, you’re going with me to get that tattoo Ryker designed.  I already made the appointment.  I was at Adrenaline today making an appointment and dropping off the art.  You’re coming with me.”

“Emmy, I’m so not getting a tattoo,” I warn her.

“I know that, you don’t have an appointment, silly.  I do.  You’re just coming with.  We’ll chill for a while.  Then it’s me, you, Reese, and Camilla out for the night.  No men, just us girls.  We’re going to get shit-faced drunk, but it’s okay because none of us have work on Tuesday.”

“We’ll need a designated driver, you know.”

“Definitely.  I’ll take care of the deets.  Trust me.  I’ll tell Camilla, and you tell Reese to clear her schedule for Monday night, got it?”

“Got it.”  Emmy skips and twirls off, happy as a lark.  This completely crappy night just got a little better.  A night out with my besties is exactly what I need. 

A
s soon as Emmy hears “All Night” by Icona Pop, she jumps off her barstool and grabs Reese’s hand, leading our small group to the tightly packed dance floor in her pink sequined mini dress.  “Come on, girls.  This is my jam!”

Camilla gulps down what’s left of her Jack & Coke and stumbles towards the dance floor with them.  She turns back, grabs my arm, and demands, “Jette, let’s go.”  We stumble and giggle as we make our way through the massive crowd of moving bodies, each of us using the other for support.

As the music blares with the rhythmic beat, we dance.  “Dance” may be a bit of an exaggeration.  It’s more like tightly packed rhythmic sensual moving.  Reese moves her hips suggestively while raking her hands up and down her thin frame, getting lots of attention from the single men here tonight.  Emmy gets her share of attention, too.  She moves like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Reese,” I shout, “that hottie is totally checking you out.”

She bends her finger and calls him over.  She grabs his shirt and grinds with him on the dance floor.  He leans in and says something to her that I can’t hear.  They go back and forth for a minute, then Reese releases him, pushes him away, and joins our little trio again.  “He was friggin’ hot, Reese, what happened?”

She shakes her head emphatically.  “Pick up,” she hollers.

“He was trying to pick you up?” Camilla asks.

“No, he
drives
a pick up.”  We all start laughing hysterically like it’s the funniest thing we’ve ever heard.

The carnal atmosphere intensifies with each song that passes. As the effects of the alcohol begin to take effect, I let go, giving into to the beat of the music.  I sway to the rhythmic pulsing and pounding, releasing the stress and strain of the past few weeks. 

“You’re beautiful,” someone yells by my ear.

It is a lie, no doubt.  The sweat is now beading on my temples and on the back of my neck, my hair clumping together from the damp perspiration.  I don’t care, I’m not here looking for men tonight. 

I smile at the dark-haired young man, close my eyes, and imagine he’s someone else, the only man I really want to dance with.  As we dance together, he places his hands on my hips, matching his moves to mine.

Emmy weaves herself between us, breaking us apart, and forcing the mystery man to take a step back.  “Step off, sweetie.  It’s ladies’ night.  No boys allowed.”  My new friend laughs and turns, having little difficulty locating a new dance partner.

The longer we stay on the dance floor, the hotter we get. Despite the small lightweight dress I chose for tonight, I can feel the sweat drip down the open back.  The gyrating bodies and thumping bass are making the temperature rise with each song that passes.

I need another drink to cool off.  I make a drinking motion with my hand and the girls all point to the ground, indicating that they’re staying put.  I push my way through the crowd to the packed bar.  Thankfully, I get served quickly.  With my SoCo and lime in hand, I turn to watch my friends on the dance floor.  For three tipsy women, they sure can move quite well.  A sudden shove at my back has me nearly spilling my drink all over the floor.  When I turn to see my assailant, I can tell immediately that he’s drunk out of his mind.

“Hey, gorgeous.  Wanna dance?” he stammers.

Dance?  This clown can barely stand up.  I seriously doubt this guy could walk, let alone dance, without falling flat on his face.  I’ve been dealing with over-confident drunken guys for some time now, so I know I need to let him down easily with his false bravado in tact.  “Oh, sorry.  I’m a lesbian, I don’t dance with men.”  That usually does the trick quite nicely.

He grabs my arm and takes me completely by surprise.  “Oh, a challenge.  I love a challenge, babe.”  He pulls me to him and breathes in my ear smelling of stale whiskey, “One night with me will change your life.”

“Get your hands off me,” I grunt in my best ‘don’t fuck with me’ voice.

He moves his hands from my arms to my hips and yanks me to him.  “Playing hard-to-get, huh?”

I take the heel of my stiletto and jam it into his foot as hard as I can, sending him crashing back into other unsuspecting people.  “Bitch!” he yells at me as he balls up his fist and prepares to attack.  As I get ready to dodge his swing, out of nowhere, a tall, dark figure appears between us.  All I can see is the look of terror on drunken guy’s face as he takes a step back.  A blur flashes before me, and before I know it, the dumbass falls to the floor with a rather loud, thump!

The life-saving avenger turns around to check on me, and when I see his face, my jaw drops.  “Ryker?”

He looks me over from head to toe, inspecting me for any injuries that he might not have prevented.  “Are you okay?  Did this jackass hurt you at all?”  He turns toward the guy splayed out on the ground and kicks him hard in the gut.

“Holy, shit, Ryker.  Stop.  I’m fine.  I can handle myself in a bar, dammit.”

“Bullshit.”  We both turn and see the bouncers scurrying over to us.  “What kind of men would let their women out alone looking like that?  Someone had to watch out for you tonight.  You’re damn lucky I was here.”

“Did you say you were watching out for us?” I ask. 

“Absolutely.  I haven’t been more than a few feet away from you all night.  I intended to stay out of your way unless you needed me.  I’m just glad I didn’t let you out of my sight.  I hate to think of what might have happened if I didn’t follow you here tonight.” 

I’m stunned silent.  What the hell just happened?  Ryker followed us to the bar tonight.  He’s been watching my friends and me all night.  Why?  Before I can respond, the bouncers escort Ryker from the bar and drag the idiot away, too. 

The girls come racing up to me.  Apparently, they witnessed the encounter from the dance floor.  “Jette, was that Ryker being dragged away?” Emmy asks. 

I nod and take a swig of what’s left of my SoCo and lime.  “He’s been here all night,” I tell them.

“No fucking way!” Reese shouts.

“Way,” I correct her.  “And he wasn’t here by accident.  He was watching us.”

“That’s kinda creepy,” Camilla remarks. 

“Well, he’s gone now.  We are
not
going to let anyone ruin our girl’s night out.  Come on, ladies, the next round is on me!”  Emmy squeezes her way to the bar and gets us shooters.  The moment the fiery liquid is sliding down my throat, I make the decision to forget about whatever it was that just happened, and enjoy myself for one night.  I’ll deal with Ryker tomorrow.

A small group of patrons abandon their bar stools, and we rush over to sit down.  “Okay ladies, let’s do this,” I tell them as a bartender makes his way over to us.  “Four Screaming Orgasms, please!”  The cute bartender raises an eyebrow, grins, and then delivers four perfect cocktails for my friends and me.

Emmy can’t resist the opportunity to get down and dirty, “To Orgasms!” she shouts.

Reese ads, “May they be plenty!”

We all clink glasses and for the next few hours, we order every dirty cocktail we can think of.  But we have enough sense to make sure to order the occasional round of water between drinks.  The night flies by, and by closing time, we can barely stand straight.

“Here comes my honey bear!” Camilla exclaims as Marcus enters the bar.  She throws her arms around her man and proudly tells him, “Marky, you missed it, I had a Screaming Orgasm and it was dee-lish-us!”

“Oh, Marky-Mark, can’t you go away and come back later?  We don’t want to go home yet.  I was just about to order us some Blow Jobs,” I giggle.  “Ooh, I could get you one, too.  Do you want a Blow Job?”  I cup my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late, I said it.  “That didn’t come out right.  Do you want me to have the bartender give you a Blow Job?”  The kind-hearted and patient bartender watches and gives Marcus a sympathetic headshake before walking away.

“Okay, ladies.  Drink up.  It’s closing time.  Let’s go.”  He throws some money on the bar to make sure the bartender is well tipped.  I guess he doesn’t trust that we remembered to do that.  Come to think of it, I’m not sure if we did or not.

Emmy pouts, “I don’t want to go home.  And I don’t want a Blow Job, either, thank you very much.  I want a Wet Spot.”  She flags down the bartender and calls to him, “Can you make me a Wet Spot?”  We all start laughing uncontrollably.  “What’s so funny?” Emmy demands.

“No more Wet Spots, Blow Jobs, or Screaming Orgasms tonight ladies.  Time to go.”  Marcus is serious.  He wants us to leave.

This time it’s Reese that gives him a hard time.  “Okay, okay.  We’ll leave.  Just one more shot, and I promise we’ll be good.  Somebody tell that cute guy behind the bar that I want a Sloe Comfortable Screw.”