Unfortunately, she also knew how it felt to need someone else and be cut loose from them, irrevocably and involuntarily. The pain wasn’t worth it and she couldn’t risk it again.
The thought of them no longer being a part of her life made a chill sweep through her heart that rivaled the cold, wet wind lambasting her. She shook her head. Talking about it only increased the need she felt for them.
Headlights lit the road ahead of her as a vehicle drove onto the bridge behind her. She couldn’t avoid being seen because she still had a bit of distance to go on the bridge. So much for her plan to hide in the bushes. The rain, which had only been falling in a steady downpour, became a deluge, illuminated like cold silver curtains by the vehicle’s headlights.
“Crap!”
She prayed they didn’t hit her as she walked on the narrow shoulder next to the guardrail. The end of the bridge came into sight, and she lengthened her stride as the vehicle approached steadily. She hopped over the rainwater-filled dip between the bridge and the road just seconds before the truck hit it at full speed, spraying her with a surge of cold, muddy water.
* * * *
“We’ve been living in limbo with the dream so long that if the dream is all I have, I don’t want to let it go,” Quinten said, voicing his feelings on the matter.
They hadn’t come so far only to lose her. With all the interruptions at the club, Quinten hadn’t been able to give her the private apology he’d wanted to but had done his best. At least she wasn’t seething mad at him for opening his big mouth anymore. Ben hadn’t been able to do the same, which Quinten could tell had him out of sorts.
They had a more pressing concern at the moment, though. They’d passed Camilla’s white Camaro marooned on the side of the road a couple of miles back, with her nowhere in sight. He wasn’t sure if he’d feel more relieved to find her hoofing it to Grace’s house in the cold rain, or to not see her anywhere at all on that lonely stretch of road. They’d already tried her cell phone, and the call had gone to her voice mail.
Squinting out the windshield as the deluge increased, Quinten said, “She seemed so…downhearted after whatever that was that happened in the cooler. Do you think we blew it? We may not be able to keep her from moving to San Antonio. We’ve got to talk to her before she makes that decision.” He’d do whatever it took.
“That’s a choice only she can make. I need to apologize first before we try any convincing on the other issue.”
In the hellacious downpour, Quinten saw a vibrant flash of color a split second before Ben hit the shallow dip at the end of the bridge.
Quinten peered out the back window as Ben slowed down. “There she is! Shit, we hit that dip and soaked her! That’s her umbrella.”
Ben slammed on the brakes, and Quinten jumped out the door into the downpour. Sure enough, Camilla stood on the roadside soaked and covered in mud, thanks to the truck splashing her. She had her hand to her face, trying to clear the mud and rainwater that must’ve splashed into her eyes. He yanked off his jacket and was about to put it around her when she suddenly jumped back as she fearfully squinted at him.
“Camilla, it’s me, Quinten. Come on!”
Lit by the red taillights of the truck, he could see her lip tremble like she was about to cry as Ben turned the hazard lights on and jumped out on the other side. “Sugar, you okay?”
Her teeth were chattering as Quinten pulled the jacket around her and she tried to reply, “Uh-huh-huh.” Her whole body trembled as he pulled her close and then walked her to the truck. He lifted her into the front seat, and she struggled with the umbrella until he finally took it and closed it for her. Ben turned the heater up after he climbed back in and then proceeded down the road.
Her chattering teeth made it difficult for her to explain what had happened to her car, but she finally got it out. She wiped at her running mascara and looked at her muddied legs and ruined boots.
“I can’t go to Grace’s like this.”
“We live just a ways down the road. You can come to the—”
“We?”
Quinten remembered Camilla was still out of the loop concerning their living arrangements. Ben replied for them. “Yeah. Quinten moved in a few weeks ago.”
“Oh.” She nodded and tried to smile as she gripped the coat to her. “Cool.” More teeth chattering and then she said, “So…you guys live together, huh?” She seemed unsure of what else to say for a minute.
Ben nodded. “Yup.”
“How’s that working out?”
“Pretty good, I guess. We’re hoping it improves, though.”
Quinten was almost relieved as Ben cautiously tested the waters.
“Oh, yeah? Having a roommate requires an adjustment. So you’re…”
Quinten nearly drew blood as he bit the inside of his lip when he realized what she was hinting at. Ben did too as he looked at her before returning his gaze to the windshield. They’d had to slow way down because of the poor visibility. “We’re what?”
“You know. Partners? I didn’t…realize.” Noticing Quinten’s raised brow, Camilla looked a combination of mortified and disappointed. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
Ben chuckled and finally relented. “No, we’re not lovers. We’re just roommates. We’re friends too, outside of work. In our time off, we’ve been renovating the house.”
“Is it an older house?”
“Built in the eighties. It needed some updating.”
“That explains the paint in your hair. Did you do it all yourself?”
“Some of it. Jack Warner contracted part of it.”
Through the windshield, Quinten noted when they rolled past the entry to the Divine Creek Ranch.
“That was my turnoff,” Camilla said as she pointed a finger at the window. “You just missed it.”
Ben shook his head and glanced over at Quinten. This was the moment. Quinten nodded and tilted the vent so that it pointed directly at her. “You can come out to our place and get cleaned up and then you can call Grace from there and let her know you’re okay. Stay with us and we’ll see about your car in the morning.”
“I don’t want to put you out like that. I can call a tow truck.”
Ben shook his head. “Sugar, you’re probably not going to be able to get a tow truck out on a nonemergency call in weather like this. The car is safe where you left it. We can take care of it for you. Right now, you need to get warmed up.”
Quinten was all kinds of happy that the work on the house had just been completed because now she’d be able to make use of the amenities. Just wait until she gets a look at that tub. Bless you, Grace Warner. Thanks to her, the newly renovated house no longer looked like a frat house. She’d even gone shopping with them and helped decorate the place. He sincerely hoped Camilla liked it.
She looked from one to the other of them. “I’m curious about something.”
“What’s that, sugar?” Ben asked as they continued down the road.
“You’re Quinten’s boss, right? How does living together work when you’re also employer-employee?”
Ben shrugged. “We’ve been friends a while, just a little longer than I’ve known you. We get along well together, and Ethan and I have never had any sort of problem dealing with Quinten. He works hard, just like you do. Quinten approached us a year ago about investing in The Pony. At that point we opted to make him a silent partner.”
“Oh, I never knew that. Wow.”
Quinten adjusted the heat as the truck cab grew warmer. “I didn’t think it was something that needed to be bandied about. I like what I do, and didn’t feel the need for a different job title, so we kept it between the three of us.”
Ben said, “He still serves as head bartender, but I see him more as partner.”
“You know, looking back, I can see that the relationship between the three of you is more as equals. I’m sorry, Quinten. I hope you don’t think I’m questioning your position.”
“Not at all, baby. Sometime
s an atypical relationship is better for everyone.”
“You really don’t treat me like an employee either, do you?” she asked. “Even when you’re griping about my choice of work attire, you’re doing it as…territorial males.”
She didn’t say another word as Ben drove down the long driveway.
* * * *
Camilla’s hand trembled from the chill deep inside her as she held Ben’s phone to her ear. Her gaze returned to her surroundings, the master bathroom of Ben’s big ranch house, as Grace replied to her question.
“What would I do if I were in your shoes? How long have you known me, Cami?” Her soft chuckle told Camilla that Grace’s choice wouldn’t be to duck and run. “I’m just glad nothing worse happened to you.”
“I c–could have one of them b–bring me over r–real quick.”
“Listen to you, Camilla. Your teeth are chattering. You probably have mild hypothermia. Get warmed up. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“W–We’d fall into bed together.” Is that really the worst thing? Say it all you like, but you want that in the worst way possible. The worst-case scenario was them finding out that she wanted—loved—them both and then rejecting her.
Grace had clued in to Camilla’s attraction to Ben and Quinten the year before. Camilla knew the woman had serious matchmaking radar but hadn’t said much, respecting Camilla’s self-imposed rule.
“Worst case—they wouldn’t want a washed-up ex–exotic dancer for a girlfriend much less anything permanent. We could wind up ruining a perfectly wonderful employer-employee relationship.” She reached into the big tile shower enclosure and turned on one of three showerheads. The thought that there were three flickered as odd in the back of her mind.
“You’re really selling yourself short if you believe that.”
“Honestly, I just can’t take the risk. I need peace at my job. I want to own my own club and I need a clean relationship with them. The entanglements would just complicate everything. I’ve been down that road before.”
“True,” Grace said reasonably, “but you know there’s a big difference between being involved with an embezzling dickhead and being in love with Ben and Quinten. I believe there’s something there between you worth taking a chance on.”
Camilla was shaking now at the possibilities Grace was stirring with her words, or maybe it really was hypothermia. But hypothermia didn’t create a storm of heat and need in her the way thoughts of Ben and Quinten were doing at the moment. She kept talking, trying to convince herself, secretly hoping Grace would exhaust all the arguments she’d been repeating to herself like a mantra for the last year.
“The entanglements would just complicate everything. I need to maintain a business relationship with them. Ben and Quinten have already shown signs of being territorial, and when it all goes south, I won’t have that business relationship to rely on.”
“What if it doesn’t all go south? What if you have something more in the end? And why do you suppose they’re territorial? Do you think that’s because they don’t want you?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
“Get your precious little frozen tush in the tub and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“I’m taking a shower.”
“Are you crazy? You’re not trying out that gigantic—never mind. Get in the shower.”
“What were you about to say? Gigantic what? Have you been over to their place, Grace?”
“Um…yeah. With the guys…for a football game. Yeah. Get in the shower and I’ll talk to you later. Gotta go! Bye!” Camilla made a face at the phone when she heard Grace giggle before the call disconnected, and she put the phone on the counter.
The bathroom was steaming up nicely as she stripped her clothes off, wondering if Grace hadn’t somehow set her up after all. The matchmaker. She caught a glimpse of her nude body in the mirror and cringed. She was pale, and her skin was blotchy and red where she’d been exposed to the elements.
Three miles in late October in a soaking downpour? In short-shorts and a top that was little more than a bra. The Windbreaker might as well have been at home too, for all the good it did. What were you thinking?
A shudder and heartfelt moan escaped her as she stepped into the shower and closed the glass door. The water felt so good. She stood under the heavy spray coming from the broad showerhead and eventually noticed the other lever located by the faucet, labeled “steam.” She stood stock-still as jets located in the walls of the shower produced a fine hot mist.
I’m in heaven.
Her fingers were pruney when she finally picked up the bottle of bodywash and the puff hanging from the faucet handle. She paused and sniffed at the puff.
Has another woman used this shower recently, or do men use these puffs too?
She satisfied herself that it smelled new and looked unused and poured bodywash on it, in no position to complain. The fragrance that was part of Ben’s natural scent filled the steamy enclosure, and Camilla moaned softly. Closing her eyes, she fantasized that she was surrounded by him. As she shifted and stroked the soapy puff along her inner thighs, she noticed that her labia had swelled. It wasn’t any wonder, with his scent filling her senses the way it did. The puff teased her clit as she lightly stroked those delicate tissues a little longer than was necessary to get clean.
She was startled from her erotic reverie when a knock came at the bathroom door. “Camilla? You okay?” Quinten’s velvety tone served as fuel for her fantasies.
“Oh—yes, I’m fine.”
“You’ve got it steamy enough in here. Feeling better?”
Soooo much better, baby. “Yes, I’ll be out in just a few minutes.”
“I figured your clothing was soaked and muddy, so I put a T-shirt and some sweatpants on the bed. Do you have everything you need?”
No, not quite. Would you join me? “Yes, thank you, Quinten. I’ll be out in a sec.”
“Take your time.”
Left alone, Camilla lost the edge of the fantasy which competed with the reality of what lay beyond the bathroom door. Grace asked what was the worst that could happen. Barring losing her job for some unknown reason, she was currently living a worst-case scenario of sorts. She was at odds with Ben and Quinten, or had been, and wanted to fix it. And maybe part of her wanted to see where the night would lead. She turned off the water and pulled a towel from the bar outside the shower.
Once she was dry, she toweled her hair. After searching the mostly empty drawers in the vanity, she located a brush and made use of it as she looked around the bathroom with appreciation. It was a fantasy come to life and must’ve been part of the renovations that Ben and Quinten had mentioned.
She peeked out of the bathroom door to find the bedroom door closed, allowing her privacy. She strode to the bed, wondering at her attack of modesty as she clutched the towel around her. In her own home, she walked around naked all the time, comfortable in her skin. She dropped the towel and looked at her reflection in the tall mirror that stood in a beautiful wooden frame beside the bed, next to a pair of French doors that led out onto a dimly lit deck area.
Since she was no longer dancing on a nightly basis, her curves had rounded out some, but for the most part she liked what she saw when she looked in the mirror. Full breasts tapered to her toned waist then flared to curvy hips and thighs. In order to appeal to a wider audience, Jake had employed dancers of every shape, color, and size, from tall and athletic to petite and shapely, like her. Dancing had given her a great amount of confidence in herself, as had hearing from men that they liked a woman who was curvy and confident about her appeal.
She stretched and smiled at her reflection, feeling warm again all over. Warmer in some places than in others, judging by the way her wet lips rubbed against each other as she moved.
She gazed at her face, washed clean of her smeared mascara and makeup. Having her veneer of sophistication stripped from her when she was about to see the two men she wanted so much sc
ared her a little. A tiny part of her wondered if they’d be interested in her without that mask she showed the rest of the world.
A little voice whispering in the back of her mind warned that she was on a slippery slope. Before she let her fantasies get too far out of control she needed to know what they wanted to talk to her about. She only half listened to that little voice of reason as she put on the T-shirt Quinten had provided and was enveloped in his scent. Arousal swelled inside her accompanied by a need for both men that went beyond the physical. What was the best-case scenario? The thought of both of them loving her and wanting her made the butterflies in her stomach shift and tumble in acrobatic maneuvers.
She held the T-shirt against her nose and breathed deep, and the fantasy returned. She was in the middle, surrounded by their warm, masculine bodies, their hands gently stroking her arms, her shoulders, her breasts, and her pussy. She pulled the lightweight sweatpants on, acutely aware that she didn’t have on any undergarments and got even wetter at the thought.
She sat on the enormous bed and looked around at the furnishings. Everything looked and smelled new, from the obviously custom-made bed, to the dressers and highboy in the corner. There were three smaller pieces of cabinetry located beside it, but she didn’t snoop. She sniffed at the T-shirt and smiled as she went to the door and opened it. She’d never felt this vulnerable walking through the Dollhouse, dressed in considerably less.
Time to take the bull by the horns.
Two bulls, actually.
Chapter Six
Ben looked up from the light snack he was preparing at the kitchen counter and the knife dropped from his hand with a clatter onto the cutting board.
Quinten said, “You okay?” as he rose from his squat in front of the refrigerator, where he’d been looking for the juice Ben had asked him for.
Tiny Dancer [Divine Creek Ranch 13] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7