How Cassie Got Her Grind Back (10 page)

Ivan caught his attention and flared his eyes in a purely hopeful way, and Samson smiled. “We’d take you to the Dancing Pony, as long as it doesn’t mess up your schedule.”

“It won’t,” she murmured as she gazed at him with a merry sparkle shining in her eyes. “Can I have this dance?” She gestured toward the floor with her head, and then giggled when he heard what was playing. “Back in Black” by AC/DC.

And they say
I’m
a sadist.

Ivan laughed and turned to converse with Chance, Clayton, and Lydia while Samson escorted Cassandra to the dance floor since she was dying to dance.

“Wasn’t this one of your favorites?” she called, lifting her arms into the air as she swung her hips to the beat, throwing a grin at Grace as she and Jack joined them on the dance floor. Samson was impressed by how willing Cassie was to shake her tail feathers and hoped his knee could keep up.

She giggled as he played a couple of chords of air guitar but then threw it over his shoulder and pulled her close. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes sparkled with merriment as she shouted over the loud music. “I hope the next one is a slower song. This is gonna kill me, but it’s so fun!”

He ignored the twinge in his knee for a bit longer, watching her move to the music and got caught up in it himself. She paced herself and made it through the whole song with classic rock style, and then Ivan breezed past him as the beat of the next song began and said, “I’ve got this one, old man.”

“
Old man
? Look who’s talkin’!” he shouted. He laughed and limped back to the table so he could watch her as he recognized another classic tune. “Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’” by Journey—and then he remembered what a big Journey fan she was and how much she
loooved
this song.

“Damn,” someone off in the crowd said, and he wondered possessively if they were looking at Cassandra.

Jack had evidently picked up some dirty dancing moves from his cousin Ethan because he pulled Grace up against him so she straddled his thigh. He had a good tight grip on her hips as she ground against him. The man looked as though he was feeling like a king. He slid his hands up into her hair and pulled her close so she was nearly lip-to-lip with him.

Cassie was having a similar effect on Ivan, judging by the big shit-eating grin on his brother’s face as he held her backside to his front and then gripped her hands so she could grind and shimmy against him, rolling her hips with the sinuous beat of the song. The confident smile on her face and the way she arched her back made his dick sit up and take notice, especially when he caught a glimpse of her hardened nipples through the silky material of her dress.

The crowd was cheering for the dancers and entirely too many men were ogling his woman, but at least she had Ivan out there with her. It was clear by the sparkle in her eyes and the way she bit her lip that she was having a damn good time.

Several other ladies joined them, including Lydia and Veronica, until the floor was crowded mostly with women, and the energy in the room shifted and the party finally got into full swing.

He grinned when he glanced across the room and noticed Bill Resendez frowning at his ex-wife, his
really hot
ex-wife, while clutching the wrist of the young woman he’d brought with him. She tugged her arm, obviously wanting to join the ladies on the dance floor, and he wouldn’t allow it. The frown on Bill’s face made his jowls sag, reminding Samson of his old man.

Samson turned his attention back to lovely Cassandra and ignored the tingle in his groin as he watched her have fun with his brother.

Would she be game for
other
fun? Samson imagined her visiting Hazelle House with him one evening. She knew Bunny and Joseph and some of the others, so maybe she might take a chance and visit the BDSM club. Whether she’d be into what he enjoyed was another question. And there was Ivan to consider. Judging by her expression, she was enjoying being so close to him. But Ivan had made it clear in the past that he had no interest in Samson’s extracurricular activities.

First things first.

He could live without tying her up. He was sure he couldn’t walk away from her again.

As the door swung closed on the eighties rock blaring from inside the Elks Lodge, Ivan held out his hand for her keys and said, “Where’s your car? I’ll drive you over, and Samson can follow in his truck. He and I rode over here from Morehead together.”

Cassie gave him the keys. “Okay.”

Once in the car, he moved the seat back, and she fiddled with the radio, finding a country station and turning it down low. The lingering scent of vanilla bean and buttercream filled the interior of the small sport utility vehicle, reminding him that, besides her coffee shop, she also specialized in wedding cakes. The SUV must double as her delivery vehicle.

Ivan said, “You’re really okay with going to the nightclub? I would imagine you had a long day today.”

Cassie shrugged. “I’m a night owl, no matter what time I have to get out of bed. I’d like to go…unless
you’re
tired.”

“Me? Nah, I’m fine.” His knees had loosened up a little, and so far he was holding his own on the dance floor, as long as he didn’t push it too much. “But I also haven’t been up as long as you. I know your place opens for the early morning crowd.” Her only reply was a shrug as he started her engine.

“I love it too much to complain. I’ll take a nap tomorrow to make up the lost sleep.” She gave him directions to the Dancing Pony nightclub, and he pulled out of the parking lot.

Ivan glanced at her, illuminated by the dashboard lights. “You enjoy taking care of people, feeding them and such?”

She grinned at him and nodded. “I love it. You get it, don’t you, Ivan? You’re lord and master of your domain, but that’s basically what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, sort of. When I’m not at Hermione Jones’s beck and call.”

Cassie snickered. “Hermione? Your boss’s name is Hermione?” She popped an eyebrow and said, “As an executive chef, you probably have a wide range of spices you use in your recipes. You know the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, right?”

Without missing a beat, Ivan shrugged. “There is no difference. They’re the same thing.”

Cassie’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “I so totally took you for a Muggle!”

Ivan rumbled with laughter. “Call it a guilty pleasure. I’m a big-time Potterhead.”

With laughter in her voice, Cassie replied, “Tamara and Joseph still haven’t grown out of their Harry Potter phase, and they managed to get me on board, too.”

“Hermione from time to time gets a little…shall we say testy. And it’s everything I can do not to purse my lips and say in my best Professor Snape voice, “
Control your emotions
!”

“Is she demanding? Her place is a little above my pay grade so I’ve never been in there.”

“Nah. The key is flexibility. When she wants to change the menu up, she means
that day
, not next week or next month. But I don’t mind. It keeps me on my toes, and she pays me well to be adaptable.”

“I think it’s sad we were so close for so long and then never got back in touch.” Her voice was soft with regret. “I wish I’d been stronger…had stood up to my father better.”

“Honey, no one stood up to your dad, and you were raised to obey. I should’ve…”

Ivan’s drumming fingers stilled on the steering wheel as the memory of Homecoming their senior year of high school came to him. The crisp fall wind had done nothing to dry the cold sweat breaking out over him, and the pain in his knee had paled in comparison to watching Cassie deal with her infuriated father on her own. Jorge Villalobos had lambasted her in the crowded concourse in between the concession and ticket stands and the concrete ramps leading up into the football stadium seating.

Cassie, Samson, and Ivan hadn’t even known what had happened at first. He’d been on the sidelines icing his knee and waiting to be taken to the emergency room, Samson was still on the playing field, and Cassie had been in the stands with the marching band, preparing to go out for the half-time show. The rumors had spread through the entire crowd before any of them had known, and by the end of the game, it’d all been hearsay.

According to their shocked and obviously upset mother, Samson and Ivan’s father and Cassie’s mother, Delicia Villalobos, had been taken away by sheriff’s deputies in handcuffs from the final football game of their senior year.

Later in the concourse, Mr. Villalobos had seethed. “You will never have contact with those boys again!
Lo prohíbo!
I told you—
I told you
they would be nothing but trouble to this family, them
and
now their father, too. Your mother has shamed herself with that
hijo de puta
! Never speak to them again, no visits, and no more boyfriend-girlfriend nonsense. They’re not welcome in the restaurant, either. If I find out you have had contact with them, I will not pay for your college tuition and I will not have anything further to do with you. No help, no job will come to you from this family. You have both brought shame to me! Those white boys have probably made you their whore already. And I know where you learned it from—your mother playing the whore with their father!”

Cassie’s face, pale with shock, had grown whiter with every hurtful word. Confusion showed in her eyes. “
Papá
, what are you saying?
What happened
? I don’t understand!”

“Your mother and that Cutter bastard were just put in handcuffs and carted off by the sheriff! Arrested on suspicion of fraud! She can rot in jail for bringing shame on this family.” Onlookers in the crowd wore various expressions of dismay and shock at the news because both sets of parents had always been avid supporters of the team and were trusted and well-respected members of the football boosters organization.

“What?” Cassie had gasped. She’d cast her gaze around at the bystanders and swayed on her feet. Samson had moved through the crowd to help her, but she caught a glimpse of him and held up a hand to stop him.

“No more!” her father had roared, his face red with fury as he caught her non-verbal communication with Samson. “You heard me! No more contact with any son of a bitch whose last name is Cutter.
Ever
! Or—or you will be my daughter no more!” Mr. Villalobos had then grasped his chest, panting as Cassie ran to him to catch him as he collapsed.

“
Papá
!” She looked up at the crowd. “Is there a doctor here? Someone call an ambulance!”

“You see? You see?” he’d ground out as he gripped his chest and panted. “You are
killing
me!”

Samson and Ivan, who was hobbling on crutches, had both moved forward, determined to help despite Mr. Villalobos’s cruel words. Cassie deserved better than to have everyone in the crowd, standing in shock, staring at her. It was obvious she didn’t know any more than they had at the time.

One of Cassie’s uncles had rushed forward and warded them both off. “I think your family has done enough for one night, boys. Go home and leave us alone to take care of ours.” He gave a curt shake of his head when they tried to speak. “No. If you have any respect, do as Jorge wishes and stay away from Cassie.”

“We didn’t do anything, Mr. Villalobos. I haven’t laid a hand on Cassie,” Samson said with barely controlled vehemence. “At least not the way her father thinks I have. We would never—”

Ivan knew Samson had kissed Cassie, but he’d never done anything like Mr. Villalobos had accused him of. Ivan had struggled to understand the connection between Cassie’s father’s accusations Mrs. Villalobos had been unfaithful to her husband with their dad. Ivan knew his dad worshipped the ground their mom walked on. It didn’t compute, but Mr. Villalobos had always had a volatile temper.

Noting the growing crowd, the uncle lowered his voice and said, “It doesn’t matter. Until we know what happened, and until he calms down, stay away. If this kills my brother, I’ll hold your family responsible.”

He and Samson had both pulled back at the man’s intensity, but seeing the distress in Cassie’s expression as she kneeled on the concrete in her marching band uniform and held her father’s head in her lap was the worst. As the uncle had stalked away, Samson had tugged his brother’s arm over his shoulder to help him walk.

“Come on. We’ll find a way to get in touch with her.”

“But you heard her dad.”

Samson had looked determined. “We’ll find a way.”

But they hadn’t. And soon they’d had bigger worries, like why their dad and Cassie’s mother had been hauled away in handcuffs from the ticket stand where they’d been working their service hours selling tickets to the game. They’d been counting the money before turning it in the president of the booster club when the sheriff had shown up and arrested both of them for embezzlement and conspiracy to commit fraud while members of the community had stood by in shock.

Their parents’ actual crimes were eventually sorted out. But the drama unfolding that night, the anguish in Cassie’s eyes as she’d been publically berated, the shock on everyone’s faces—those memories and the hurt had scabbed over but never healed properly.