11. Johnny
JOHNNY
Some people say a dick’s like a brain. Not mine. Mine’s a compass. It guides me, provides direction, and leads me exactly where I need to be. I followed it here to Milwaukee. It directed me to check out the bar, and it’s sure as hell what’s leading me back there this morning.
If I’d checked the needle last night, it would have been pointing me straight back after I left.
Walking out that door after he asked me to stay?
I swear I dragged bricks as I made my way home and up the stairs to my apartment, wishing more than anything I was walking up the stairs into another apartment.
His.
Making the trek back there now, my compass leading me the few blocks from where I parked, I catch a glimpse of the cracks in the sidewalk on Water Street.
They’ve served as an obstacle course matching the emotions I’ve felt every time I’ve left that damn bar.
Most of it is an uneven surface where I have to watch every step, careful not to trip or step on a concrete landmine.
But if I make it past the chips and worn-down patches, there’s a section that’s smooth and untouched.
Walking on that feels steady. Easy. Like I could walk for miles and feel like only a second has gone by.
I feel like last night was finally some smooth sailing, but as I make the walk inside this morning, I don’t know what awaits me. I rub my hand across the back of my neck as I approach the door…It’s nothing like what I was expecting.
Normally this place is silent before we open.
Only the sounds of chairs being dragged across the hardwood floor and clinking glasses and bottles.
But today, I bite my lip as I peek through the clear pane on the door; I hear the juke box blaring Billy Joel at full blast, and behind the bar is that familiar flannel, green today, shuffling around with a little extra pep in his step.
Did he just bob along to the beat of the music? I fight a smile. Have I stepped into the twilight zone?
I knock on the door, and he races to unlock it for me.
“Hi.”
“Morning.”
“How’s your hand?”
He shrugs, locking the door behind us. “It’s fine. Just a little scratch.” He holds it up to show me, but quickly reaches forward to grab my arm.
“Come to the backroom with me.” He tugs at my shirt. “You can put your coat up, and I…I want to show you something.”
This man’s mood changes faster than a badger digging a hole in the yard.
But the feel of his hand on me, the way he’s practically dragging me to a backroom, has me following along, fighting a smirk the whole way.
It also doesn’t make me want to work today unless it’s working my way up those stairs and both our pants down around our ankles.
My dick twitches but…shit. I don’t even know what this damn smiling idiot has decided after our talk last night.
As we enter the room, I see a bottle of vodka, the same brand as last night, sitting on the desk with a piece of twine tied around the top and a little piece of paper attached to it. My chest flickers as I notice a name scratched across it—my name.
And peeking out from behind it, a piece of brass with a distinct shape.
Walt gestures to it with a smile on full display under his mustache and a slight shake in his hand. “It’s…it’s for you.”
I try to fight the way my lips curl up—the way my cheeks feel flush—but it’s no use.
“You’re giving me a bottle of vodka?”
“I wanted to say sorry. For last night. I know I was an ass, and I’m…
I’m going to work on it. I promise. And that’s what this is for.
” He picks up the bottle and hands it to me.
“Specifically, this.” He flips his finger under the small metal gift attached.
“It’s the key to the bar. I want you to know I trust you and I figured letting you have access to the bar anytime you want might be a good way of showing that. ”
He gave me a key to the bar. His bar.
“Wow. Last night I was a thief, and now I got a key to let myself in and take whatever I want? You sure this isn’t ’cause you don’t want to have to run out of the office to open the door when I get here or lock up after me?”
His laugh, deep and full of joy, hits behind my rib cage, settling in like it was always meant to be there. And it hits in a way that makes me wonder what it would take to get a key to more than this building.
“I’m not gonna lie…that’s a nice bonus.” He smirks as he takes the bottle from me, carefully setting it back down on the desk. His grip is firm, but gentle as he takes my hand. “But mostly…I don’t want to run this bar without you.”
“So, this is just about the bar?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “No.”
“Did you think about what I said last night?”
“I did.”
“And?”
He doesn’t blink. “I…thought about everything. I’ve been so frustrated with my life.
Not being able to do or say what I want.
Not being able to have what I want. I’ve never wanted to take a risk.
But…after you walked out, well”—his face flushes—“after I kicked you out, I realized you weren’t a risk. You’re the reason.”
“The reason?”
“Yeah.” He takes a step closer. “You’re the reason this bar works, Johnny.
You’re the reason my heart flies out of my goddamn chest every time I walk downstairs, counting down the minutes until you arrive.
And you’re the reason…” He pauses, twisting his fingers.
“The reason I want to break every damn rule I’ve ever had. ”
He shutters in a breath as I place my hand on his cheek, waiting until our eyes meet. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please.”
I capture his lips in mine, committing the sensation to my memory. Last night was him testing the waters. I could tell he was nervous, fumbling even. I thought he might actually choke me with how far he was shoving his tongue back in my mouth. And fuck me, I almost let him.
But now? I’m in control.
My fingers find the strands of his hair, tugging him closer and angling his face toward mine as I slide my tongue across his.
Warmth crawls along my skin as his hands move inside my jacket, his touch heating through the thin fabric of my shirt.
A deep groan escapes him, the vibrations pulling low in my abdomen.
The slight stubble on his jaw prickles against my hand as I pull back, slowly kissing down his neck.
“Johnny…”
The whisper of my name has me wanting to strip him bare right here. To have him in every way possible. The groan that escapes me is a mix of desire and frustration. As much as I want him, I don’t want to screw this up.
“You like this? This still okay?”
“God, yes,” he pants.
I lean back, finding his gaze again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this last night. About you.”
“Same.”
“Same, huh? Did you have to fist your cock as many times as I did thinking about me?”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “I…I um…”
He looks everywhere around the room except at me. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. It’s goddamn cute as hell.
“Hey.” I tip his chin back to mine. “I’m teasing. Well…not about how many times I got myself off thinking about you last night. Hell, these past few days. I know you’re still getting used to all this. But…I assume from your response that was a yes?”
The corners of his mouth tip up as pink flushes across his cheeks.
Goddammit, why does that get me worked up?
“Yeah. I, uh…maybe. Shit, this is all…it’s all new.”
I lean in to kiss him—it’s quick, soft, gentle, calming.
He thinks he’s hiding the slight shake of his hands, but I see it.
I don’t think I could miss a single twitch of his body at this point.
“Listen…we got a bar to get prepped this morning, yeah?” My hands settle on his shoulders as he nods in agreement.
“Okay then. Let’s get to it. Besides, you know what the best part about Sunday is? ”
His brow furrows. “What’s that?”
“Boss closes the bar at 8pm, and he’s closed on Monday. So…if the offer still stands…I can stay over tonight.”
He smiles as he steps back and unties the twine from around the liquor bottle before handing me the key. “Since I gave you this, I guess there’s no taking back the offer now.”
I smirk as I work the token around my keyring. “I guess not, boss.”