How Cassie Got Her Grind Back (3 page)

With her keys in hand, Cassandra looked his way again and gave him a tentative wave. Samson nodded back at her and then held up a hand to halt her. He needed to head to the cemetery with the other pallbearers.

Shouldn’t be doing this right now.

Her throat bobbed when she swallowed as she glanced at her friends dispersing to their vehicles to join the funeral procession. She surprised him when she waited in the shade as he excused himself from Hank, who was still going on about the reunion.

White-knuckling the strap of her handbag, she watched him as he approached. The thrill of having her on edge raced through him as he noticed her hardening nipples, visible through the brilliant plum-colored fabric of her top. He stepped just within the boundaries of her personal space so she’d have to look up at him, and her nerves were as palpable to him as the subtle floral fragrance she wore. She parted her lips to say something, but words failed her, so she held out her hand to him. He took it in both of his, and instead of shaking, he caressed her palm and the top of her hand, before drawing his fingers across her fingertips. The telltale calluses from guitar strings were gone.

“You didn’t keep your promise, did you?”

The light from the afternoon sun was awash in her suddenly tearful eyes, and Cassie swiped a windblown lock of hair behind her ear as she looked away. After looking down at her hand, she shifted her gaze back to him and cleared her throat. “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but her chin trembled. He loved setting a woman on edge. A good edge. The edge of fulfillment and release. Setting Cassandra on edge made him feel only regret, and want.

The hearse started nearby, surprising her, and she looked at the keys grasped in her hand. “I—I have to go to work. I’m sorry.” Her expressive eyes pleaded for understanding. She didn’t owe him an explanation, but he’d wanted so much more for her than staying trapped in that little gossipy town.

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he nodded and watched her walk away. Her posture was stiff, her movements jerky, as though she suspected he was watching her, which she confirmed when she glanced back and nearly tripped on a crack in the baking-hot asphalt parking lot.

His smile wasn’t from amusement, but because she’d never been the type to strut or show off. Lord knew she had plenty worth showing off. He continued watching as she hurried through the parking lot.

“Soon, Cassandra. Soon.”

He’d waited nearly thirty years. He could wait a while longer.

“Why didn’t you stay and talk to him, Cassie?” Grace Warner asked, sitting across from Cassie and Grace’s sister, Charity Connors, in the corner booth at Divine Drip. “If you were interested in each other back then, why not at least arrange to get together later and talk?”

Cassie shrugged as she dumped a couple spoons of sugar into her black coffee and then added half and half to it, turning it a rich caramel color as she stirred. “I chickened out.” What she didn’t say was that the strong Alpha vibe he’d always exuded had strengthened with the years. “It was obvious he wanted to talk to me. I know it wasn’t intentional, we were at a funeral after all, but I felt ambushed. I didn’t know what to say.” She held her cup to her lips and breathed in the aroma of coffee mingled with sweetness and blew before taking a sip.

He’d surprised her when she’d looked up at the funeral home and spotted him across the chapel, dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit. He’d allowed his hair to grow out, and the thick black locks were liberally streaked with silver, especially at the temples, giving him a rugged warrior-poet appearance, despite the suit. The way her heart had lurched at the sight of him had taken her back to her teenaged years, to a time when she’d hoped he was the one.

Grace gave her a wry smile. “As one introvert to another, Cassie, I know it may be hard, but I think you should go see him, on your own terms, now that you know where he is. I don’t know him very well, but if I’d had any idea the two of you knew each other, I would’ve made sure you crossed paths before the funeral.”

After Cassie had mentioned knowing Samson, Grace had told her that she and Ethan knew him because they were members of Hazelle House, another revelation for Cassie. No way could she picture a man as thoughtful and kind as Ethan spanking sweet Grace.
No freaking way
. Considering that Samson had always been one to take charge, she was only mildly surprised he was a member, and she wondered what he did there. Security? Dungeon master? Something intimidating, she was sure. Strange, how the thought sent a warm shiver racing up her spine.

Charity nodded. “If you avoid him, you’ll regret never acting on this chance. Before the funeral, when you had no idea he was back in the area, how did you feel about him?”

Regret doesn’t even come close.
“I’ve missed him since the day we graduated from high school and he went into basic training.” She could still see him and his brother walking away from her, their arms across each other’s beefy shoulders. They’d probably been talking about their next step together before they were across the field. “Even once I settled down, had the kids, and, later, when I started my business, I wondered…how he was.” –
And how Ivan was, too.

Charity took another sip from her coffee, a thoughtful look on her face and turned to Cassie. “You graduated high school with Samson and his brother?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And when we first got here, you were chatting with Hank about your thirtieth high school reunion coming up next month. You all graduated together.”

Realization dawned on Grace’s face. “Maybe he and his brother will come to the reunion.”

Cassie shook her head, relieved the reunion wasn’t something she’d have to worry about. “I’ve been at every reunion, and neither of them has ever come.”
Not that I can blame them.

Not one to miss much, Grace leaned forward. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing,” Cassie replied. No good would come from sharing Samson and Ivan’s history. Both Grace and Charity were several years younger than her, but they might remember what’d happened in Divine back in the eighties. No point in dredging up old history, especially ugly history. “If he really wanted to see me—or his brother for that matter—they both could easily find me, through Hank…or Google. It’s not as if I’m hiding.”

She recalled the shiver that had gone up her spine when she’d made eye contact with him at the funeral. One look and she had been enthralled, as if thirty years of hard work, one failed marriage, and two great kids raised hadn’t all come to pass. Suddenly she’d been a nervous teenager again, sweating palms, racing heartbeat, and goose bumps shimmering on her skin, but she was all too aware that she longed for what she couldn’t have, though for different reasons, in the present.

* * * *

Ivan Cutter smiled as he lifted the lid on the soup pot and the steam from the creamy contents invaded his nostrils. The aroma of the pancetta blending with the buttery scent of the Havarti cheese made his mouth water, and he grinned when he heard the loud grumble of Samson’s stomach. “Thought you said you weren’t hungry,” he said as he picked up the peppermill and ground just a touch more white pepper into the pot and stirred.

“I wasn’t, but that smells good. You got any bread to go with it?”

The words weren’t even all the way out of his brother’s mouth before Ivan was pulling two big stoneware bowls from the stainless steel shelving against the wall and hollering at one of the chef’s helpers to bring him one of the loaves of Italian bread cooling on a rack.

The clatter of utensils and pots and pans as the kitchen geared up for the arrival of the haughty crowd that packed the dining room at Hermione every afternoon and evening was a musical din he barely noticed. He ladled soup into both bowls and set them on the small table in the corner and then grabbed a crock of softened butter for the bread.

After handing his twin a large spoon, he joined him at the table and grinned as Samson took a long, deep sniff of the soup’s aroma and then dug in. He laughed when Samson let out a groan of pleasure at the first spoonful, closed his eyes, took another, and nodded at Ivan’s inquiring, “Good?”

The two of them ate in a silence broken occasionally by pauses to tear off more bread, which they slathered in butter before continuing. Ivan smiled when Samson tilted the bowl to spoon up the last drops of creamy broth and refilled it for him when he looked ready to start licking the bowl clean.

Midway through the second bowl, Samson glanced up as he spread butter on another piece of bread. “I ran into Cassandra Villalobos this morning.”

Ivan sat back and nodded. “I figured you’d never go back to Divine.”

Samson’s hand landed with a thud on the tabletop, and he dropped his spoon. “How do you know that’s where she is?”

Ivan studied Samson, noting the tension in his shoulders and the crease between his brows. “I’ve known for a while she was there.” At his brother’s arched eyebrow, he continued. “There’s this thing you may have heard of, brother. It’s called Google. Makes finding people easier than it used to be. I looked her up out of curiosity several years ago. And even if it weren’t for the wonderful power of the Internet, I’ve heard about her little place, mostly because of her baked goods. She makes this hazelnut crème-filled cake with cream cheese frosting and dark chocolate shavings that is…”

His mouth watered again as he recalled the cupcake creation a friend had gifted him with recently. Cassie could be working in a five-star restaurant in a big city, but that wasn’t her style.

“You’ve been to see her?”

Ivan shook his head. “If I never see Divine again, it’ll be too soon. And she has her own life.” Why remind himself of what he couldn’t have?

“I would think a soft touch like you would at least go see her. I didn’t realize that’s what she did. She’s not supposed to be there.”

Ivan shook his head. “Far as I could tell, she never left. She worked for her father and grandfather in their restaurant and eventually got married.”

“She broke her promise.”

“What? And we kept ours? You remember how under their thumbs her father and grandfather always kept her. Life happens, man. She has her own successful business, and she’s not at their beck and call anymore. And you’ve had quite a career, as have I. It’s not the specifics of the promise I concerned myself with. It was the spirit of it.”

“She was too good for that damned place. Too good to stay there. She should be on the stage somewhere.”

“You didn’t wonder why you never saw her gracing an album cover?”

“No, but you and I both know she didn’t necessarily want the spotlight. I figured she’d joined a group I’d never heard of.”

“You were afraid to find out. Admit it. You believed she’d go far because you loved her and had to let her go. You wanted the best for her.”

“I doubt she found it in Divine. Hank said she’d divorced.”

It was Ivan’s turn to put down his spoon. “I didn’t know
that
. Hell, you must’ve had one hell of a reunion with her then.” The spark of envy was uncomfortably familiar, even after thirty years. The only time he’d ever been jealous where his brother was concerned.

“No. She ran.”

“What do you mean
ran
?”

Samson made a fingers walking gesture toward the door. “She ran. It means exactly what I said.”

Ivan scowled at him and shook his head as he stirred his soup. “You gave her the steely-eyed Dominant stare and scared her off, didn’t you?”

“Fuck. What the hell is that, anyway? I
looked
at her, yes. How could I not? She’s gorgeous—”

Ivan held up a hand to halt his twin brother before he could get rolling. If ever two men were less alike in temperament, he wanted to meet them. “You remember what most of the men in her family were like? Talk about dominant and demanding.”

Samson paused with the spoon halfway to his lips, and then his shoulders slumped. “Shit.” He glanced at the workers rushing around the kitchen in concerted movements and rubbed his hands over his face. “I haven’t seen her in thirty years. I suppose I could’ve used a different approach.”

“Your favorite John Wayne quote comes to mind in times like these, brother. ‘Life is hard. It’s harder if you’re stupid.’ You should’ve tucked all those dominating tendencies of yours away so you didn’t intimidate her. So are you ending your embargo of all things Divine if it includes the now single Cassie Resendez?”

“Resendez,” Samson said, a frown forming on his face as he took another bite. “Joseph told me that was her last name. I recall only one Resendez family from Divine.”

Ivan chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound, and focused on his next spoonful of soup.

“
No
. No fucking way,” Samson said, his voice gravelly with dislike. “Bill Resendez?”

“Yes, but she’s single now.” If he’d known she’d divorced before today, although he might’ve been tempted, he would’ve let Samson know. Samson had fallen for her the moment he’d set eyes on her the first day of their freshman year. He didn’t have a prior claim on her like Samson did. But he’d adored her just as much back then.