“Ahh, okay.” Danny grinned, arms folded over his broad chest. “So you don’t do nice.”

Suzette beamed. “No, I love it rough, Danny. I told you that.”

Purposely obtuse? Christ, was this really happening? Judging by the look on Max’s face, it certainly was.

“Rough it is,” Danny conceded. “Little girl, my wife is more woman than you will ever be, and I’m the lucky son of a bitch who has the honor of being with her. You think it’s okay to screw with the person who writes your paychecks? You think that person is me? Guess what—you’re wrong on both accounts. You have absolutely nothing to offer us because pretty faces are a dime a dozen, and your bartending skills are subpar. So get your shit and get gone.”

Had her face not made him physically ill, Danny would have enjoyed her round eyes and slacked-jaw look as Max escorted her to the door. Instead, Danny went to the office and apologized to his wife the best way he knew how—simple words followed by a mind-bending orgasm.

###

IT WASN’T MORE than a couple of weeks later when Danny found himself in a similar situation, although the target was different and Danny’s patience was nonexistent. Max was the ideal employee. He worked his ass off, took on extra hours, and even though he was dealing with some sort of marital issues at home, he never brought them behind the bar. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him, and Danny wanted to clone him. So he did what he thought was the next best thing—he hired Wayne.

Wayne came with an impressive resume, a handsome face, and unfortunately roaming eyes and Velcrohands. Danny worked a few shifts with Wayne and found him to be slightly annoying, but the ladies liked him, so Danny worked the schedule so the two would intersect more than spend a great deal of time together. Julie didn’t have much to say about the new bartender, which was abnormal but not alarming.

“Julie, cupcake, no need for you to climb that step stool when you got a man right here. I’ll get that bottle down for you.”

Danny’s ears perked as Wayne’s words traveled from the bar to the kitchen, where he and Max were doing inventory.

“What the…?” Hands balled into fists, Danny’s eyes met Max’s.

“Look, boss, the guy’s a flirt. I’ve heard him call other dudes ‘babe,’” Max reported. “Let it go, and let’s just get this done.”

Accepting Max’s advice, Danny exhaled, flexed his hands, and counted forks.

“Mmm, Julie, how’m I supposed to concentrate on cleaning when every time you bend over, I get a perfect view of your sweet ass.”

A red haze slid over Danny’s vision as the fork in his hand bent in half.

“I’ll come out with you,” Max snarled. “He needs to be gone, Danny, not dead. Do you hear me? You can’t protect your woman from jail.”

Max’s words penetrated just in time to save Wayne’s life.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Danny roared as he barreled out of the kitchen and behind the bar. He grabbed the bottle of Maker’s Mark from Wayne’s hand and threw it to the floor. Sounds of broken glass crunching beneath his feet were lost behind the rage that fueled his movements.

Wayne’s hands were held up in a surrendering pose. “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t trying—”

“You weren’t flirting with my wife? You weren’t staring at her ass?” Danny left no time for answers as he advanced on Wayne, leaving the man with no choice but to retreat. “Listen here, you little fucker, the only reason you’re gonna walk out of this bar in one piece is because I care more about that woman you were disrespecting than I do ‘bout disabling you. Get the fuck out of my sight. Catch your eyes on my woman even once as you leave, I’ll tear them out of your skull. Got it?”

Wayne nodded, understanding clear on his pasty face as he grabbed his backpack from under the bar and scooted past Danny’s large frame. “Max, help me out here…”

“Rats and thieves,” Max rumbled, his arms crossed. “Only rats and thieves steal what belongs to someone else. Rats do it for survival…you got no excuse.”

“Five, four, three—I get to one, and you’ll be limping out of here,” Danny snapped.

Wayne ran. The empty bar became silent.

“Thank you, Max, for having my back again,” Danny said.

“Not a problem, boss.” Max shrugged. “Let’s just say I have some experience when it comes to cheating. I’m not a fan.”

Receiving the message Max not-so-subtly put out, Danny shook the younger man’s hand, “Not quite sure what I’d do without you, boy.” Christ, sounded a bit like Chester just now.

“Happy to be here, sir.”

Julie cleared her throat. “Hate to interrupt all this male bonding, but I’m standing right here in the mess that you created, Mr. Marcus, and I’m waiting for an explanation.”

Judging by the playful look on his wife’s face, no explanation was needed. She totally understood Danny’s reaction, but she was waiting for his admission.

“Jules—”

“I could have handled it, Danny. You should have trusted me to do so, the same way I trusted you.”

“I—”

“I’m gonna take my lunch break,” Max broke in. “I’ll be back in a half hour.”

The mammoth man left the bar, but Julie’s gaze never left Danny’s.

“That guy was a douche bag, Jules,” Danny said. “The way he flirted with you, checked you out…for the love of Christ, was that the first time that shit went down?” Even thinking it may have happened before had his blood pressure beginning to rise.

“Does it matter?”

Julie’s question left him speechless.

“Seriously, Dan, the guy has only worked here for seven shifts. Does it matter if he’d flirted with me before today?”

He knew the correct answer to her question, but damn it, hearing that son of a bitch hit on his wife without cause or care to the fact that she was married pissed him off. “Yes, it matters, okay? It matters. You’re mine. That punk had no right—”

“‘You realize that you’re it for me, right?’” Meaning danced through Julie’s eyes as she repeated the words he’d spoken weeks earlier when she’d come to him with her concerns about Suzette. “‘I don’t care who flirts with me. I only want you.’ That’s what you told me and I believed you, but it doesn’t feel reassuring when you watch someone trying to take away the person who holds your very existence in their hands, does it?”

Damn, the woman had a point, but he wasn’t ready to concede…yet. “No, it doesn’t, but Jules, that guy—”

“I know you’d never hurt me, Danny,” she said. “I know you have full confidence that I’d never hurt you, but it sure as hell feels horrible having that shit in your face every day, no?”

“Now, to answer your question”—glass crunched under Julie’s feet as she made her way closer to him—“no, it wasn’t the first time he’d flirted with me, but it would have been the last.”

The feel of her hands splayed across his chest quickened his pulse for all the right reasons.

“We both know that some flirty behavior can come with the job, but what he was doing was harassment. That is unacceptable in our home. While I fully intended to fire his ass before you came in all bad-ass and sexy, you sure saved me the trouble.” Her eyes glittered. “How can I thank you?”

Danny looked at his wife—feisty and beautiful, sexy and smart. How the woman could take all of his anger and frustration and shape it into something entirely different with just words and her warm touch baffled him. “We’ve got about seventeen minutes. I’m sure I can think of something.”

He led her back to their office and locked the door. A lot happened in seventeen minutes.

From that day on, when they hired staff, they found themselves looking beyond the resume, beyond the good looks, and into the eyes of the applicants. They weren’t seeking workers; they were looking for team members.

Just like Max DeLucca, Kyle Marx sauntered into Danny’s on Main one sunny day looking for work. One look into his stormy gaze, and Danny and Julie knew he was searching for more than a paycheck and a steady gig. They didn’t know the depth of the pain he hid, but they saw enough. It took mere minutes for them to welcome him aboard.