How Cassie Got Her Grind Back (2 page)

Damn it! Why does it have to be like this?

Letting instinct rule, he gently took her upper arms, not caring if her father was in sight or not, and kissed her full on the mouth, luxuriating in her soft, warm lips, her clean scent, and the delicious essence of her once more, and possibly for the last time. The dull pain in his chest sharpened and spread downward to the heavy ache at his groin as she moaned quietly against his lips and tightened her arms around his neck. Ivan stood by, calling some reply to a passerby but staying right with them.

When Samson released her, the tears welled from her eyes as she whispered, “That felt too much like goodbye.”

He regarded her hands as he clasped them, smiling at the calluses on the tips of her fingers from playing her guitar so much. He blinked the mistiness in his own eyes away before he looked up into her sweet brown gaze. “I know your family is probably out of the stands and looking for you by now, Cassie, but will you promise me something?”

“Sure,” she said in a rough voice as she glanced at his brother and then at him. “Anything.”

He and his brother closed their arms around the girl he loved who had also been their closest friend as she struggled with her emotions, shielding her from the whispering passersby. He wanted so much to give her a reason for the hope shimmering in her eyes, but he couldn’t, not where he was headed. He didn’t know where he’d end up after basic training or whether she could even come with him. That was no way to start a life together. Besides, she had big dreams, and the talent to bring them to life.

As if to remind him of what he needed to say, he glanced up and spotted two adults, parents of one of their classmates, both of whom were prominent members of the volunteer fire department. There wasn’t animosity in their eyes, but the judgment there was sufficient to remind him time was short.

“Promise me you’ll get out of this damn town, with all of its small-minded people and its gossip mill. Go chase your dreams with all your heart and make me proud. Make us both proud.”

Her eyes flared as she looked in the distance around his shoulder and he knew her family had spotted her when she moved toward his center and looked up at him. “I promise I will. I’m going to miss you so much.” Her voice broke on the last syllable, and the pain in his gut increased as if he’d been sucker-punched.

Cupping her cheeks with his palms, he said, “I believe in you. I’m gonna see you on stage some day and say I knew you before you were famous. Go for it. Go for all of it. Show this damned town what you’re made of.”

She firmed her lips and tightened her grasp on his forearms for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll do my best. Please be careful, both of you, in basic training…and wherever they send you.” She grabbed hold of Ivan’s forearm with one hand. “Please?”

“We promise, Cassie,” Ivan replied for both of them after glancing at Samson. His eyes were bloodshot, and the emotional struggle was audible in his roughened voice. “We can’t wait to see your name on a marquee. You be careful in the big city. Don’t let them swallow you whole.”

Cassie gave a watery chuckle, having heard that admonition almost daily since her acceptance letter to Berklee College of Music in Boston had arrived. “I promise.”

“Cassie!” the firm voice shouted, anger evident in its strident tone.

Samson didn’t turn to look. Normally he paid Mr. Villalobos all due respect but not today.

He pretended to not hear as he drank her in one last time. “I’ll never, ever forget you,
chiquita
. Smile for me?”

Her lips trembled, but she did her best and nodded. “Samson, I—I lo—”

“Cassie!” her father shouted from mere feet away, putting a stop to a declaration Samson wasn’t sure she should make with their parting so imminent, a parting that was tearing out his heart because it was likely permanent. Once the world got to hear her gift, she’d surely skyrocket to fame and unattainability.

I love you, too, Cassandra.

She panted and then cleared her throat and whispered, “I won’t ever forget you, not as long as I live. Please, be safe, both of you.”

Ivan gave her a small nod and blew her a tiny kiss, despite probably being seen by her dad.

To hell with him.

Samson kissed her one last time, drank her in one last time, and then steadied her on her feet when her knees went wobbly. When she took a deep breath and patted his arm, he walked away without acknowledging her father or her family. They’d done too much already, and he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of ruining the moment with a confrontation.

Of course his feet disagreed with his resolve and failed him just a few steps away from her.

“She has her dreams, and you need to let her chase them, man,” Ivan muttered, his voice deep and gravelly with emotion, while tightening his grip on Samson’s shoulder to keep them both moving ahead. “Who knows, maybe you’ll see her again someday. Keep walking. You don’t want her dad giving her a hard time because you’re hanging around. He’ll pay you back through her.” With every step he took, the ache grew sharper, but Ivan kept them moving. “That’s it, buddy. It’s gonna be okay.”

But nothing was okay and wouldn’t be. Not for a long time. Like an amputee suffering with the pain of a phantom limb, Cassie stayed in his heart in the coming weeks and months, passing into years. And although time could heal old wounds, every veteran, every survivor had scars.

Present day…

Samson Cutter hated seeing a woman cry unless he’d been the one to give rise to her tears and only if that catharsis was what she needed. Watching the woman his best friend was in love with as she cried for the loss of her grandmother wasn’t enjoyable in the least. Bunny’s grandmother had passed away just days before after suffering from a stroke, and now Bunny and her brother stood at the casket saying their good-byes before the funeral home director closed it for the last time.

Sitting to his right was one of his oldest friends since childhood, Hank Stinson, Sheriff of Divine County, and a fellow Dominant. They were among the men serving as pallbearers while his closest friend, Joseph Hazelle, sat with Bunny and her brother, Tristan, in the front row.

The funeral attendees shifted in their seats as the funeral director announced the service was over and they were welcome to travel in procession to the cemetery.

The brunette across the chapel drew his eyes again as she rose from her seat. Cassandra Villalobos had changed since the last time he’d seen her on the football field at Divine High School moments after their graduation ceremony. She’d changed in all the best ways, though. Her unique sherry-colored eyes sparkled as she spoke quietly with her friends. Judging by her posture and body language, she was probably making excuses as she slipped out of the pew. She glanced up at him, and her eyes flared as she realized he was watching her, and the sparkle was replaced by a more hunted quality as she looked toward the exit.

He recognized the pretty blonde standing beside Cassie. Grace Warner. He’d met her along with one of her husbands, Ethan Grant, when they’d joined Hazelle House. Joseph had laughingly informed him that he’d know them better if he’d pay a visit with him to the Dancing Pony in Divine every so often to break out of his work- home-BDSM-club rut. Divine. Not happening. He wouldn’t be there today, but Bunny had asked him to be a pallbearer, and there was no way he could turn the redhead down.

Before the funeral, when Joseph had realized Samson knew Cassandra, he’d mentioned she was the owner of a popular coffee shop in Divine.

Grace repeated whatever she’d said to Cassie, startling her, before looking his way and then back at Cassie, a speculative gleam in her eyes. She was a little matchmaker, according to Joseph.

Samson knew Cassie was going to flee, the little chicken heart. He had one big, burning question to ask her, but he couldn’t right then. His responsibilities came first. But he held her gaze, even though another blonde was tapping her forearm, trying to get her attention.

He felt a corresponding tap on his own shoulder, and Hank murmured, “Earth to Cutter.” He looked forward and realized the rest of the pallbearers had advanced several paces toward the front, and he took long strides to catch up.

“You remember her?” Hank asked a few minutes later after they’d passed the casket into the hearse. “You’ve hardly taken your eyes off of her since she got here.” Hank nodded at Cassandra, indicating who he was referring to as she spoke to her friends, flight evident in her body language.

The rays of the mid-morning sun streamed around her, casting her in voluptuous silhouette. Her long dark hair was free, and the breeze lifted strands that glimmered with red highlights
off her shoulders.

“Of course I remember her. Cassandra Villalobos.” The name rolled off his tongue like a benediction. The great start or great end to any day, whether it was just a smile, a sweetly chaste kiss on the cheek, or a searching look from her brown eyes.

She was clad in an ankle-length black skirt that skimmed her hips, an unsuccessful yet typical attempt at hiding what he recalled were luscious rounded thighs and shapely calves tapering to delicate ankles. Her plum-colored top showed off her breasts while still being demure at the neckline.

The years have been good to you,
chiquita
.
Oblivious to the solemnity of the occasion, his dick tingled in agreement before he got a hold of his thoughts.

“She goes by Cassie now, and her last name is Resendez, has been for years. Didn’t I ever mention that? You’d know if you came to the high school reunions.”

“Shit, not this again,” Samson muttered as Hank clapped him on the back.
She was married? Well, dumb fuck, over the course of thirty years that happens.

“The thirtieth reunion of the Class of 1986 is coming up in just a few weeks. You and Ivan still have time to get your tickets. I can sell them to you right now,” Hank added as he patted the breast pocket of his uniform, a wide grin on his face.

Samson shook his head, accustomed to the routine question Hank asked every time their high school reunion rolled around. It was harder to turn him down in person, but there was nothing for him in Divine, and no reason for him to return to the painful scene of his teenaged past, pretending it’d been a great chapter in his life. It hadn’t been any such thing.

“This town holds too many bad memories, you know that.” His home in Morehead was close by, but Divine might as well have been light-years away.

Undeterred, Hank continued. “Now that I think of it, if you didn’t know Cassie had gotten married, then you probably don’t know she’s also divorced. She goes to all the reunions. Seems like I recall your brother used to hang around with the two of you a lot, didn’t he?”

“Yup.” Samson thought back to those days. Although Ivan had adored her, he’d disguised the fact because, back then, the admission would’ve gotten him lynched, spitted, and barbecued by her traditional, patriarchal family. But it had been clear what Ivan had felt for her had gone pretty deep—or at least as deep as a horny seventeen-year-old boy could go.

“Listen, no one judges you or Ivan for what happened with your dad and Cassie’s mom back then.” Hank always made a point of mentioning it when they talked.

“I don’t have your faith in humanity. Time may have passed, but people don’t forget or forgive easily, and neither do I, for that matter.”

His friend continued coercing him, but his thoughts centered on the moment he’d seen Cassie again after so long, when she’d arrived at the funeral home before the service.

His heart had lurched at the first sight of her, out of habit established a long time ago. Normally, he took his feelings swiftly in hand, cutting off the hope and desire, telling himself it wasn’t her. It never was. Many women had dark hair that sparkled red in the sun. But he was in Divine. And it
was
her. He’d known it by the graceful way she moved.

She’d paused, probably letting her eyes adjust or savoring the air conditioning after coming in from the intense late-summer heat. His heart had swooped when she’d stepped beneath one of the recessed lights, which lit up the red highlights in her dark hair and illuminated her profile.

“I don’t believe it,” he’d whispered to himself.

After signing the guest book, she’d taken a memorial pamphlet and then had paused at the foot of the aisle and lowered her eyes. Praying. He’d known she was praying. She’d always had strong faith. He’d wondered over the years if she’d ever prayed for him and had taken comfort from the sense that she had. Relief had been evident in her demeanor when one of her friends waved her over and she’d joined the group.

Then her eyes had widened when she’d spotted him across the chapel. Her jaw had dropped, but she schooled the reaction as she’d greeted her friends. But time and time again, her gaze flew back to him, and he enjoyed her flush and the uncertainty in her expressive eyes as she looked him over. When she’d met his eyes, he’d seen a moment of…something…flicker there. Remorse?

A welcome breeze tempered the late-summer heat under the funeral home portico and drew him back to the present. Cassie chatted with her friends while everyone assembled, and he could tell she was nervous by the way she giggled as she searched her handbag, probably for her car keys. The more she dug for them, the more she blushed. Then she glanced up at him. The teenaged girl he’d adored was there in her tender smile and the glow in her cheeks
as she talked to friends, but the woman standing across the way was a goddess in her full, voluptuous glory.