Tiny Dancer [Divine Creek Ranch 13] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (4 page)

Quinten hoped—and Grace had seemed uncannily certain—that Camilla would love the big tub and shower that had been installed. The tile work was starting the following day. He knew they might make a mess of his painting, but he didn’t care. He had to
do something
.

Quinten’s heart lurched as he imagined all the ways she could react. It made him heartsick to think she might reject them. Maybe her standing rule that business was business and pleasure was pleasure had really been her way of saying she felt nothing but friendship for them. He had a hunch that her feelings ran deeper than that, though, and it was high time they had a talk with her about it.

Two years of playacting has worn me out.
If she didn’t want them as much as they wanted her, it was really going to hurt. He needed to know one way or the other.

He felt angry and out of control that those men could just walk back into her life and so easily capture all her attention.

“Get a grip. You’re just jealous,” he whispered to himself as he applied the paint roller to the wall. “You’re overreacting. Camilla is approachable. And likeable. And sweet. And fucking
hot as hell
.
Shit! Shut up!
” Pale ivory paint sloshed onto the plastic drop cloth as he refilled the roller pan.

Two hours later, he heard the front door open and close. Ben joined him a few minutes later, barefoot and dressed in faded jeans and an old T-shirt.

“Gimme a damned roller.”

Quinten grunted. “I take it you met the Wonder Triplets? They still there?”

“Fuck no. I wouldn’t leave until I was sure they were gone. Freaking huge bears making goo-goo eyes at her. I’m calling Wes Garner in the morning and asking if there’s any way we can get the furniture sooner.”

“Welcome to my world. Misery loves company.” He handed him a brush and pointed at the trim.

* * * *

The following night, Ben refilled Beck O’Malley’s pilsner glass at the beer tap and slid it back in front of him. Beck nodded his thanks and went back to his political conversation with Patrick Owen.

Ben had noticed a marked change in Beck over the last few months since the woman he loved, Chloe Rhodes, had moved on. He looked older, and his hair had grown out. If he didn’t shave soon, he was going to look like the member of a ZZ Top cover band. He looked sadder, too, which showed in his tired eyes.

Camilla zipped behind the bar, past Ben, and stowed her purse and coat in his office then came back. Her delicate scent, a mixture of vanilla and some sort of fruit, lingered deliciously in the air. He couldn’t help but smile when she returned and he saw that she was dressed in an
I Dream of Jeannie
costume, with her long, strawberry-blonde ringlets up in a high, swinging ponytail. She caught him looking at her and struck a sassy pose then bounced over and did her best Barbara Eden impersonation.

“Hello, my handsome Master! How are you today?”

She squeezed his arm, and though it was torture to feel her soft, supple body pressed up against his, he couldn’t help but smile at her happy demeanor. Being around her did this to him…when he wasn’t being pissy and territorial.

“I’m fine, Camilla. And you?” Heat rushed through him, making his cock tingle as her feminine scent drifted through his nostrils.

“I’m awesome. Hey, lonely hearts! How are you?” Beck and Patrick looked up at her and both grinned. They’d both joked one night about forming a lonely hearts club, since both of them had been left by the women they loved, and the name had stuck. In Patrick’s case, it was more a case of his now-ex-wife going to prison, leaving him to raise his son by himself. Camilla seemed to be the only person who could draw a real smile from either of them.

“Pathetic bastards is more like it,” Beck replied with a chuckle before sipping his beer, coating his moustache with foam.

Camilla stepped up on the ledge created just for her and patted both their arms affectionately where they rested on the bar. “So who’s getting roasted tonight?” she asked, referring to whatever politician they were discussing.

They chatted with her for a moment before Ben nudged her and motioned with his jaw for her to move down the bar with him.

She followed after refilling their peanut bowl and said, “What’s up?” She leaned against the cooler right next to him, nearly touching, and moved so close he could sense her body heat through the diaphanous fabric she wore. He noticed that she broke into gooseflesh as she tilted her head down, averting her gaze for a moment, and then looked up at him. He nearly forgot what he was going to say as he looked into the hypnotic green depths of her eyes.

“I was just curious. Quinten said that you mentioned leaving to open your own club in San Antonio or Austin. Are you seriously looking into that right now?”

Camilla nodded. “It’s still in the ‘just dreaming’ phase, but yes. I’ve been saving money, looking at getting financial backing. I swear I won’t leave you shorthanded, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

No, sugar, it’s the leaving part that worries me.

“I’m not so much concerned about that. I just wanted to discuss the possibilities with you, if you were to stay in this general area. Everyone loves you around here.”

“But I wouldn’t set up shop in Divine. It’s not big enough.”

“You’re probably right, though I’d welcome the competition. But there are other towns in the area that could benefit from a nice, upscale club moving into the area. We’ve been toying with the idea of backing another club in the area…maybe Morehead. It would be a partnership. I just wanted to ask if you’d be open to the idea?”

Camilla’s smile made his heart palpitate. “Sure. You’d do that?”

“Ethan and I have both talked about it from time to time. You have the experience and you’ve done a great job here.”

Camilla’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “But I’d want my own club. Run it my own way. You’re kinda bossy, you know?”

Ben chuckled as she looked away and chewed her bottom lip for a minute. “You don’t like me
bossing
you?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh before smiling up at him. “You know what I mean. I think you’ve been a great boss—employer. But I want to be my own boss. I’m subordinate to you here, but I also have my own ideas.”

She was right. She had a degree but she let him and Ethan run the nightclub without input. The least he could do was offer the assurance that her club would be her baby.

“Of course. We’ve known from the beginning you wanted to be self-employed. I think you’d do a great job. Let me talk to Ethan and I’ll get back to you.” Offering her that assurance didn’t mean he’d be willing to leave her to fend for herself. He never wanted her to feel like she had to pull off a huge task like that on her own. He had too much painful experience with that in his life to allow it to happen to her. He didn’t care if it meant he was a pushy bastard at times. Even in this day and age, the world was a hard place for women on their own, and he wasn’t letting that happen to her.

“Sure.”

Ben leaned closer. “And ‘Master’ loves your costume. At least this one covers your tush.” Referring to himself that way should’ve felt platonic and playful, but truthfully there was a deep part of him that did want to master her, protect her, and keep her safe. The growing anxiety that she might leave unfurled slowly, now that he knew she was amenable to their idea.

“Oh, shoot, I hope that doesn’t affect my tips!” she replied with a laugh.

Ben smiled, recalling that these were the times he enjoyed. Kidding and teasing with her. Too often lately, he’d been acting out on his territorial feelings, confusing and occasionally antagonizing her with his overbearing temper.

He turned to her to tell her he was sorry for being pissy all the time, but when he did, she turned to him at the same moment and they bumped noses. Her warm breath caressed his lips and his cock hardened instantly at the sound of her barely audible feminine gasp. For a split second, he imagined that was a sound she’d make as he slid his cock into the hot, heavenly depths of her pussy. He wanted her so much his balls grew heavy with an aching need.

She gazed at him, the sparkle going out of her eyes to be replaced by another emotion, shyness or uncertainty, he wasn’t sure. Their mouths were bare millimeters apart, and he imagined how silky her lips would feel on his. Her thick lashes lowered, and a blush darkened her cheeks. His impatience increased and he wondered if his need to have the house finished and everything set up so she’d like it wasn’t him sabotaging himself. It really came down to his need to be in control.

The electricity of the moment was broken when she raised her hands to her cheeks and she whispered, “You’d think after working as an exotic dancer I’d never blush ever again.” Just the reminder he needed of how enticing and sexy she was in her little genie outfit.

Speaking from his heart, Ben murmured back, “I think you’re beautiful when you blush. It’s a good thing.”

He looked over her shoulder and caught Quinten leaning over in the chair behind his desk to watch them. Quinten gave him a goofy grin and “thumbs-up” gestures with both hands before the chair swiveled from being cocked sideways and he landed behind the desk with a thud.

“What was that?” Camilla asked, a dazed look in her eyes.

Moving to block her view through his open office door, Ben replied, “Quinten must be moving furniture around.”

Another patron sat down at the bar, and they put a more circumspect distance between them. Camilla cast her gaze downward, and he thought he must be imagining the frustration he saw in her eyes.
It’s probably just the lights.

He and Quinten had stayed up late the night before and finished painting the bedroom and bathroom. The tile guys had arrived early that morning to work on the shower enclosure and the floor tile in the bathroom, now that the newer, much larger spa bathtub had been installed. When he’d called Wes, his friend had told him that although he planned to tack an “asshole surcharge” on his bill, they were running ahead of schedule and the custom bed and the rest of the furniture were almost ready. When she saw their place, Camilla O’Neal wouldn’t know what hit her.

Just then, Jake Redman and Gil James slid into seats at the bar. Jake made eye contact with Camilla as she placed paper napkins in front of them, ready to take their drink orders. “Camilla, you drive a white Camaro, right? Used to be Juliana Peterson’s?”

“Yeah, I bought it from her when Will came along because the backseat’s too difficult to reach for an infant car seat. Why?” Her tone had risen as she spoke. Ben knew that car was her precious baby. Protective instincts flared within him as worry clouded her features.

Gil let out a sigh as Jake replied, “Sweet cheeks, someone’s slashed your tires. All four of ’em. Right out there in the front parking lot.”

“Well, fuck a duck!” Judging by the deepening color of her cheeks and the way she slapped a palm over her mouth, she hadn’t planned to say it quite that loud. “Shit! That’s money out of my savings.”

Quinten poked his head out of Ben’s office at that exchange. “What’s the matter?”

Ben reached in his office for her coat and said, “Let’s go take a look, sugar. Insurance might cover it.” He motioned for Quinten to come with them.

“Not on a used car,” she replied, her eyes searching his, a dumbfounded look on her face as he held the coat for her. He realized too late that he’d let an endearment slip out. He’d thought it often enough but he’d never called her “sugar” out loud.

What the hell. Can’t take it back.

Maybe all his well-laid plans were coming to an avalanche but he didn’t care. She glanced back at him one more time as he helped her slip into the coat.

All four men went out to the parking lot with Camilla to inspect the damage. There sat her car on its pretty rims, tires slashed. Camilla’s brows drew together and she let out a disgruntled nonverbal growl. Ben wanted nothing more than to hold her when her lower lip pooched out. Why someone would risk getting caught doing something so senseless in the front parking lot was beyond him.

She let out a sigh and turned around. “I guess I’d better make some calls.”

Ben said, “I have a friend at Torvel’s. I’ll give him a call.”

As they returned to the club, Quinten said, “I’ll let Hank Stinson know about this. Crazy stuff has been happening in Divine lately. We should check the security camera footage.”

Unfortunately, her car was blocked by another larger vehicle during the time when the vandal did the deed, so the security footage wasn’t much help. Torvel’s Tire Center was closed, but when Ben called one of the guys who worked there, he promised to bring four tires and install them at The Dancing Pony for her first thing in the morning.

Camilla checked in with them in the office, in between customers, and Ben said, “You and Quinten were scheduled for the same hours tonight. When your shift is over, he’s going to take you home and stay with you.”

“Why?” she asked as she stood in the doorway of his office.

Because we know you’re not quite ready to stay with us.
“Because we’re worried about why someone would do that. We don’t know if it was random or if someone targeted you purposely.” What if it was someone who knew her from her previous job, trying to place her in a vulnerable position? Leaving her stranded and helpless. Crazier stuff happened all the time, even in a quiet town like Divine. It wasn’t happening on his watch.