How Cassie Got Her Grind Back [Divine Creek Ranch 23] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Heather Rainier

  “Worlds apart,” Samson said, sliding his glass to the bartender and requesting a Coke.

  Hank shrugged. “Maybe he knew she never stopped caring about you.”

  “All these years? That doesn’t make me feel like the good guy.”

  Hank chuckled. “For better or worse, the years are gone, and here you are with an opportunity. She’s single. You’re still single. Ivan, too,” he added helpfully. “Just sayin’.” Samson elbowed him, and they laughed. Samson watched as another man approached Cassie and asked her to dance. She smiled at him and nodded then glanced in their direction at the bar.

  “Interesting,” Hank said, the observant motherfucker. Looking around the room, Samson noticed other men ogling her in her curve-hugging dress. Oblivious to their scrutiny, Cassie carried on a friendly conversation with her dance partner. When she wasn’t bound up by self-consciousness, she moved with such easy grace. He’d love the opportunity to break through that self-consciousness she’d always exhibited at being the center of attention. She’d forget all about her tunnel vision and the crowd around her when he finally had her tied down or tied up, at his mercy. They’d work through her fears until she was begging for him to do whatever he wanted with her. He drew a deep breath to dispel the heady arousal and realized Hank was still talking to him.

  “What?”

  “Bill hurt her, and it’s taken time for her to recover, but it looks to me as if she has. You know she’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside, and other men see that as well. She won’t be single forever. You going to take your chance before you lose it again?”

  “I plan to. We plan to.”

  Hank’s eyebrow arched, and he smiled. “We? As in…”

  “Yes. And we’ll be at the damned high school reunion. But Cassandra isn’t to know that yet.”

  “I can keep a secret. I’ll drop the tickets by your dispatch office one day next week. There she is, buddy. Go get her,” Hank said, lifting his rocks glass in a toast.

  Samson set his empty glass on the bar and approached Cassie after her dance partner had returned her to her group of friends, standing in the corner near a marble statue.

  * * * *

  “Oh, he’s coming this way,” Grace whispered to Cassie. “He’s looking right at you.” Cassie nearly sputtered on her gulp of lukewarm champagne as she looked in the direction Grace indicated.

  “Do you know him, Cassie?” Violet Tyler, soon-to-be-Abbott, asked as she snuck a look at the intimidating man crossing the lounge with his gaze focused on her. Cassie thought his time in the military must’ve been where he’d acquired that steely-eyed stare.

  “Yes,” Cassie said, looking down at the champagne flute she’d been nursing since the toast Samson had given earlier. She had to drive later, and she wasn’t much of a drinker anyway. “We attended Divine High School together. Graduated the same year.”

  Violet’s eyes widened as she said, “I remember him from my Fantasy Weekend. He’s Joseph’s right-hand man here, I think.”

  Grace nudged Violet and gestured at the dance floor. “Hey, I hear my song playing. Cassie, the cake is taken care of, and the bridal duties are over. Go have fun, okay?” she added in a whisper. “Oh, hey there, Samson. Violet and I were just going to grab our men and dance.”

  Samson returned Grace’s gentle hug and gave Violet a friendly nod. “Hello, ladies. Enjoy yourselves.”

  Cassie’s pulse leaped as he turned his full attention on her. She was glad she had something in her hands, although a champagne flute wasn’t much of a shield. Her breath caught in her throat as she said, “H-Hi.”

  “Hi.” His bright blue gaze slid down her throat and swept across her shoulder, leaving a shimmer of heat in its wake. Feeling as clumsy as a teenager with a crush, she looked around the gathering, coming up with exactly nada to say by way of conversation. Just as he reached out to touch her hand, she lifted it to shift her glass into it and then looked up at him, realizing he’d been trying to reach out to her and she’d unconsciously cut him off. She hadn’t meant to.

  “I’m…” Her face felt so hot, and the more she thought of it, the hotter it got.

  “It’s okay,” he said with a smile, sticking his hand in his pants pocket. “All the wedding guests were raving about the wedding cake. That had to have been a big job.”

  “Not too bad for a few days’ work, but I enjoy it.”

  “I’m glad,” he murmured, moving an inch closer to her as he lightly fingered one of the uncooperative curls escaping from her hairdo again. When he touched it, the ends drifted across her skin, raising goose flesh. His roughened fingertips followed the same path, and a shudder raced through her, probably hard enough for him to feel it.

  For just a moment, thirty years were gone, and she responded to him as if she was still an innocent teenager, aching for his touch but not having any idea what to do if she got it. She hadn’t taken more than a sip of the champagne earlier, but she felt as if the bubbles were coursing in a heated path through her bloodstream, and her body loosened, relaxed, as if to lean into him. Looking around, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks again, and she was glad she’d caught herself before she acted on the impulse.

  “Dance with me?” he asked, sliding his hand down her arm as the music shifted from the end of one song to the beginning of the next, and she nodded.

  “Sure,” she said in a strained whisper as she put her glass on the tray of a passing waiter. Gooseflesh trailed down her arm when he took her hand in his very large one. She’d always loved holding his big hands when they’d been young. He’d made her feel safe.

  Looking very cozy, curled up in her new husband’s lap, Bunny winked at her, and Joseph nodded, as if in approval, as Cassie followed Samson out the doors to the dance floor on the veranda.

  “They make a great-looking couple. Joseph always seems so serious, and she’s so spunky, but it’s obvious they adore each other,” Cassie murmured.

  “They do. It seems opposites do attract, at least in their case.”

  Samson turned to her and, with great care, as if he was afraid he might hurt her or intimidate her, pulled her to him. With an undeniable, magnetic pull, they came together, their hips and thighs aligning, the warmth of his hand sliding low around her hip. His touch sparked a heat in her depths that made her go warm and wet between her thighs and heightened the heat in her cheeks. The chemistry between them was the same as it had been years ago, comfortingly familiar yet disconcerting. Glancing up, she realized he was studying her, his eyes were hooded as if he was guessing at her aroused state, and a half-smile quirked his lips.

  Drawing a ragged breath, Cassie searched for something to say. “Have you spent much time around them?”

  “Bunny and Joseph? Only on club nights.”

  She nodded at his reply and floundered for something else to say. Should she ask about his involvement in the BDSM club? Did she even want to know? What if it was something really…wicked he did?

  “How is Ivan?” she finally asked after a long pause. Samson’s good-natured twin was surely a safe subject.

  “He’s fine. I saw him last week. Talked to him earlier this evening, and he said to tell you hello.”

  “Oh? Oh, that must’ve been who you were talking to on your phone when I saw you upstairs earlier. Sorry, not that I was snooping. That’s none of my business.” For all she knew he’d been talking to another woman, maybe his girlfriend or…sub? Did he have a sub? She hadn’t thought to ask Grace. Darn it!

  He chuckled, and Cassie had the suspicion he was enjoying her fumbling attempt at conversation. She finally giggled and let out a long breath. “Sheesh. You would think we hadn’t seen each other in thirty years or something.”

  “Or something,” he replied smoothly, stroking her cheekbone and her temple. She hoped her silver roots weren’t showing too much in the festive lights hung over the dance floor. “It’s been a lot of years, Cassandra.”

  When he used that tone and called her by her
full name, she wanted to cuddle to him, like she used to do at high school dances. She blinked as the song changed and then chuckled as the new one started. “Dancin’ Away with My Heart” by Lady Antebellum.

  “What?” he asked as he continued gazing into her eyes.

  “Whenever I hear this song on the radio, it always brings to mind the last time we danced together…and saying goodbye on graduation night.”

  He danced with her, his chin lowered as he listened to the song, and then a slow smile spread on his lips and he nodded. “Same here. It makes me think of sneaking a dance with you at our senior prom. Remember?”

  “Of course. Josie couldn’t stand seeing you looking so sad and turned a blind eye so I could dance with you, and with Ivan.”

  A cold front had blown in the night of the prom, and she’d been unprepared for how chilly it had been. Seeing her shiver, Samson had insisted on wrapping her up in his humungous letter jacket. She’d tried to return it after their dance, but he’d refused, saying he’d rather she stay warm and risk never seeing it again. The memory of the intensity in his blue eyes, the set of his jaw, and the steely tone he’d used brought a lump to her throat.

  “I couldn’t believe we got away with it,” he murmured, watching her face. She looked down but—protective and intuitive as ever—he saw her fleeting frown. Josie had sworn she hadn’t said a word to anyone, but somehow her dad had known they’d danced together anyway. “What? Did he take my jacket from you and burn it?”

  “No.”

  Samson cleared his throat, drawing her gaze. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me.”

  She shrugged one shoulder and sighed. “Extra chores.”

  “He already worked you like a slave. What more could he add to the list?” he probed.

  “Cleaning out the rain gutters at the restaurant the following weekend.”

  He fumed for a minute and then said, “I remember how chapped and raw your hands had always looked that winter after all the bullshit at the Homecoming game went down. He used you to punish all of us. I wonder how he knew.”

  “I don’t know, but I did manage to keep your jacket safe.”

  “How?”

  “I hid it in my hope chest. Dad would never have looked in there. And it was in our bedroom all those years, but Bill never took an interest in what I kept in there. You could have it back.”

  He stroked her cheek as he shook his head. “I gave it to you, to keep you warm.”

  She’d never felt so cared for, not in all the intervening years. The man who had consumed all those years came to mind, and she gave a sudden shake of her head.

  “You okay? I didn’t mean to bring up unwelcome memories.” His gaze held nothing but concern, even though he frowned and released his hold on her a little bit.

  She instantly missed his warmth.

  “You didn’t. Like you said, it’s been a lot of years.”

  He nodded, as if to himself, and his brows furrowed just a bit before the expression smoothed out and became unreadable. Did I ruin the moment? Could he tell I was thinking of Bill? She’d missed Samson all those years, and she hated to think she’d fumbled the moment. What if he pulled back because he’s noticing all the changes in me now that he’s up close? Is he missing the smaller version of myself I used to be? There was no judging by his expression.

  “Ivan surprised me when he sent me a friend request on Facebook. Things got busy, so I didn’t have a chance to look over his profile, though. What’s he doing these days?”

  “He’s executive chef at Hermione in Morehead.”

  Her brows shot up. “In Morehead? And he never got in touch!” She missed a step in the dance, and he caught her before she slipped. “If I’d known he was so close, I would’ve visited him—and you—for that matter.”

  His hand slid down her back, the caress drawing her gaze to his serious blue eyes. “We didn’t think you still lived here. After everything had happened, and after we…talked about what the future held, I assumed you were in New York or LA or in Europe. You had a gift.”

  She shook her head, pained by the disappointment in his eyes. “I never left Divine. I said I was sorry, Samson,” she added, embarrassed by the way her voice cracked a little.

  As it had turned out, the only time she’d ever played an instrument was to either soothe or entertain her kids when they were itty bitty, by playing her guitar and singing for them. Once they’d learned to walk and then started school, she’d been too busy to get it out and play or to attempt to write any songs. The guitar had gathered dust in her closet during the years that had raced by.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry, Cassandra. You have nothing to apologize for.” He let out a sigh. “I keep putting my foot in my mouth and making you uncomfortable. Let’s talk about something safer. I understand you have grown kids.”

  She nodded. “Tamara and Joseph.” They were the lights of her life and her biggest accomplishments next to owning and operating Divine Drip.

  “Joseph?” he asked with a grin, and she smiled back.

  “Yes, small world.”

  She spent the next minute or two telling him all about them and what they were currently doing before veering to other subjects, such as his career as a military police officer in the Army. Even in civilian life, his career choice had involved law enforcement, as an officer for the Morehead PD before being injured in the line of duty and taking on the role of emergency dispatcher in Morehead.

  “I can’t believe you were so close all that time and never came to see me.”

  He gently squeezed her hand. “I doubt your husband would’ve appreciated me showing up on your doorstep for a visit, Cassandra.”

  “My marriage ended a few years ago. I don’t mind if you call me Cassie. Everyone does.”

  He gave his head a definite shake. “To me you will always be Cassandra.”

  Suddenly brave, she said, “Remember what else you called me? Usually when you wanted your way.”

  “Chiquita. I didn’t forget. Although…”

  “What?” she inquired softly.

  “I lost the right to call you that, or gave up the right, when we left.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say he hadn’t lost the right, but she didn’t want him to think she was coming on to him. Some ingrained patterns never died. She looked up at him.

  As if searching for something to say, he stroked the strap of her red dress. “Did Bunny want all of you to dress like bridesmaids?”

  She shook her head, not sure what he was getting at, but the discomfited feeling returned. Bunny and Grace had sworn the style fit her well, and she liked the bright red color.

  “No. We wanted to buy dresses in the same color because we thought she’d like it. Do you not like my dress?”

  “I do, but—”

  “But what?” One of his dark eyebrows arched momentarily at her interruption, and she arched both of hers in response. “What is it? Do I have something on it? Oh gosh, did I sit in something?” She looked behind her, worried she’d embarrassed herself.

  “No, no, Cassandra. Stop, honey. Listen. Your dress is fine. Not messed up or anything.” He slid a long gaze from her toes to her shoulders and back down again, pausing at her hips for moment that seemed to last an eternity. “It’s just very form-fitting.” He backed away a bit but didn’t release her hand. “That’s all.”

  I was right. It’s too tight. Even with the Spanx. Under the lights, the red must make my dimples even more obvious. Oh, hell.

  She took a step away from him. “I need to go…uh…check on Bunny. Thank you for the dance, Samson. It was nice seeing you again,” she murmured as she plucked her hands from his, not even giving him a chance to reply before she walked on stiff legs across the dance floor.

  “Cassandra,” he called after her, but she didn’t look back.

  Depression settled on her like a stifling blanket as she slipped in through a different set of French doors and hurried upstairs to collect her purse and other
belongings. The wedding cake top had already been carefully wrapped by the Hazelle House staff and was in storage in the large kitchen freezer. Her duties were finished.

  She made excuses to her friends, bid a puzzled Bunny and Joseph a safe journey and many blessed years together, and hurried out to the front, evading another confrontation with Samson when she spotted him talking to Travis and Hank in the lounge.

  The valet was quick in pulling her car around to the front and seemed happy with the generous tip she gave him for aiding her hasty exit.

  Her mood continued to plummet in a manner she hadn’t experienced since before Bill had divorced her. Had she really lost so much appeal? Why did what one man thought of her hurt so bad?

  He’s not just any man. He’s the knight in shining armor of my memories. And I’m older, rounder, and past my prime.

  * * * *

  Hours later, in a different part of Hazelle House from where the wedding and reception had taken place, Samson hooked Victoria’s padded suspension cuffs to the chains hanging from the ceiling and then flicked the switch to lift her until just the pads of her toes touched the floor.

  He squeezed her upper arms, checking for tension. “Feel all right?” He checked her grip on the bar inside the cuff and made sure she could reach the emergency release snap.

  “Yes. Thank you for doing this on a moment’s notice, Samson. I needed it.”

  Samson patted her tense shoulder. “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad Joseph decided to open the club after the reception was over. Did you hydrate like I asked?”

  She gave him a nod. “Yes, Sir. Taken care.”

  “Good girl,” he murmured, not surprised. When they got together for play, she was usually well prepared. “You’re very tense tonight.”

  “I stretched in the locker room first, but every time I try to clear my mind, I keep reliving this afternoon in the operating room. I just…need your help with it.”