How Cassie Got Her Grind Back (5 page)

“Of course, that’s no longer a problem for you.”

Hank sighed happily as he turned to face the bar and set his empty glass aside. He leaned in to speak so only Samson could hear. “I hope you don’t miss your chance. Bill did his best to follow in her father’s and grandfather’s footsteps.”

Samson tensed, his hands cranking into fists as he faced Hank. “How do you mean? Did he hurt her? Did you ever need to pay them any official visits?”

Hank shook his head. “Nothing like that. You remember how sneaky and manipulative that bragging bastard was. Being married to him wasn’t exactly a cakewalk, I’m sure. I’m glad she had the kids to see to. It wasn’t easy for her…or her mom.”

Samson gazed down into the dregs of whiskey in his glass. “I didn’t realize it was him she’d married until I talked to Ivan and he filled me in. Evidently he knew she was in Divine all this time, although he didn’t realize she’d divorced.”

Hank nodded, and Samson saw the muscles move in his jaw as if he was clenching it. “I delivered the divorce papers to her shortly after she’d gone into business four years ago. I think Bill wanted to hurt her just for spite there at the end. He requested I deliver the papers to her as early as possible during the day, but wouldn’t you know…dispatch needed me on one urgent call after another. By the time I got back over to the coffee shop, she was closing up for the day. Still hurt her. I saw that much. But at least Bill didn’t have the satisfaction of twisting the knife in front of her morning rush crowd.”

“Why would he do that, Hank? She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

“Bullies secretly hate themselves, and when they see qualities in others they know they lack, they hate them for it. He’s always been a bully, and he enjoyed harming someone who was weaker and softer than him, taking pleasure in causing someone else pain.” Hank made eye contact with him and shook his head. “Not the same thing as what we do at all.”

“Worlds apart,” Samson said, sliding his glass to the bartender and requesting a Coke.

Hank shrugged. “Maybe he knew she never stopped caring about you.”

“All these years? That doesn’t make me feel like the good guy.”

Hank chuckled. “For better or worse, the years are gone, and here you are with an opportunity. She’s single. You’re still single. Ivan, too,” he added helpfully. “Just sayin’.” Samson elbowed him, and they laughed. Samson watched as another man approached Cassie and asked her to dance. She smiled at him and nodded then glanced in their direction at the bar.

“Interesting,” Hank said, the observant motherfucker. Looking around the room, Samson noticed other men ogling her in her curve-hugging dress. Oblivious to their scrutiny, Cassie carried on a friendly conversation with her dance partner. When she wasn’t bound up by self-consciousness, she moved with such easy grace. He’d love the opportunity to break through that self-consciousness she’d always exhibited at being the center of attention. She’d forget all about her tunnel vision and the crowd around her when he finally had her tied down or tied up, at his mercy. They’d work through her fears until she was begging for him to do whatever he wanted with her. He drew a deep breath to dispel the heady arousal and realized Hank was still talking to him.

“What?”

“Bill hurt her, and it’s taken time for her to recover, but it looks to me as if she has. You know she’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside, and other men see that as well. She won’t be single forever. You going to take your chance before you lose it again?”

“I plan to. We plan to.”

Hank’s eyebrow arched, and he smiled. “
We
? As in…”

“Yes. And we’ll be at the damned high school reunion. But Cassandra isn’t to know that yet.”

“I can keep a secret. I’ll drop the tickets by your dispatch office one day next week. There she is, buddy. Go get her,” Hank said, lifting his rocks glass in a toast.

Samson set his empty glass on the bar and approached Cassie after her dance partner had returned her to her group of friends, standing in the corner near a marble statue.

* * * *

“Oh, he’s coming this way,” Grace whispered to Cassie. “He’s looking right at you.” Cassie nearly sputtered on her gulp of lukewarm champagne as she looked in the direction Grace indicated.

“Do you know him, Cassie?” Violet Tyler, soon-to-be-Abbott, asked as she snuck a look at the intimidating man crossing the lounge with his gaze focused on her. Cassie thought his time in the military must’ve been where he’d acquired that steely-eyed stare.

“Yes,” Cassie said, looking down at the champagne flute she’d been nursing since the toast Samson had given earlier. She had to drive later, and she wasn’t much of a drinker anyway. “We attended Divine High School together. Graduated the same year.”

Violet’s eyes widened as she said, “I remember him from my Fantasy Weekend. He’s Joseph’s right-hand man here, I think.”

Grace nudged Violet and gestured at the dance floor. “Hey, I hear my song playing. Cassie, the cake is taken care of, and the bridal duties are over. Go have fun, okay?” she added in a whisper. “Oh, hey there, Samson. Violet and I were just going to grab our men and dance.”

Samson returned Grace’s gentle hug and gave Violet a friendly nod. “Hello, ladies. Enjoy yourselves.”

Cassie’s pulse leaped as he turned his full attention on her. She was glad she had something in her hands, although a champagne flute wasn’t much of a shield. Her breath caught in her throat as she said, “H-Hi.”

“Hi.” His bright blue gaze slid down her throat and swept across her shoulder, leaving a shimmer of heat in its wake. Feeling as clumsy as a teenager with a crush, she looked around the gathering, coming up with exactly nada to say by way of conversation. Just as he reached out to touch her hand, she lifted it to shift her glass into it and then looked up at him, realizing he’d been trying to reach out to her and she’d unconsciously cut him off. She hadn’t meant to.

“I’m…” Her face felt so hot, and the more she thought of it, the hotter it got.

“It’s okay,” he said with a smile, sticking his hand in his pants pocket. “All the wedding guests were raving about the wedding cake. That had to have been a big job.”

“Not too bad for a few days’ work, but I enjoy it.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured, moving an inch closer to her as he lightly fingered one of the uncooperative curls escaping from her hairdo again. When he touched it, the ends drifted across her skin, raising goose flesh. His roughened fingertips followed the same path, and a shudder raced through her, probably hard enough for him to feel it.

For just a moment, thirty years were gone, and she responded to him as if she was still an innocent teenager, aching for his touch but not having any idea what to do if she got it. She hadn’t taken more than a sip of the champagne earlier, but she felt as if the bubbles were coursing in a heated path through her bloodstream, and her body loosened, relaxed, as if to lean into him. Looking around, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks again, and she was glad she’d caught herself before she acted on the impulse.

“Dance with me?” he asked, sliding his hand down her arm as the music shifted from the end of one song to the beginning of the next, and she nodded.

“Sure,” she said in a strained whisper as she put her glass on the tray of a passing waiter. Gooseflesh trailed down her arm when he took her hand in his very large one. She’d always loved holding his big hands when they’d been young. He’d made her feel safe.

Looking very cozy, curled up in her new husband’s lap, Bunny winked at her, and Joseph nodded, as if in approval, as Cassie followed Samson out the doors to the dance floor on the veranda.

“They make a great-looking couple. Joseph always seems so serious, and she’s so spunky, but it’s obvious they adore each other,” Cassie murmured.

“They do. It seems opposites do attract, at least in their case.”

Samson turned to her and, with great care, as if he was afraid he might hurt her or intimidate her, pulled her to him. With an undeniable, magnetic pull, they came together, their hips and thighs aligning, the warmth of his hand sliding low around her hip. His touch sparked a heat in her depths that made her go warm and wet between her thighs and heightened the heat in her cheeks. The chemistry between them was the same as it had been years ago, comfortingly familiar yet disconcerting. Glancing up, she realized he was studying her, his eyes were hooded as if he was guessing at her aroused state, and a half-smile quirked his lips.

Drawing a ragged breath, Cassie searched for something to say. “Have you spent much time around them?”

“Bunny and Joseph? Only on club nights.”

She nodded at his reply and floundered for something else to say. Should she ask about his involvement in the BDSM club? Did she even want to know? What if it was something really…wicked he did?

“How is Ivan?” she finally asked after a long pause. Samson’s good-natured twin was surely a safe subject.

“He’s fine. I saw him last week. Talked to him earlier this evening, and he said to tell you hello.”

“Oh? Oh, that must’ve been who you were talking to on your phone when I saw you upstairs earlier. Sorry, not that I was snooping. That’s none of my business.” For all she knew he’d been talking to another woman, maybe his girlfriend or…sub? Did he have a sub? She hadn’t thought to ask Grace.
Darn it!

He chuckled, and Cassie had the suspicion he was enjoying her fumbling attempt at conversation. She finally giggled and let out a long breath. “Sheesh. You would think we hadn’t seen each other in thirty years or something.”

“Or something,” he replied smoothly, stroking her cheekbone and her temple. She hoped her silver roots weren’t showing too much in the festive lights hung over the dance floor. “It’s been a lot of years, Cassandra.”

When he used that tone and called her by her full name, she wanted to cuddle to him, like she used to do at high school dances. She blinked as the song changed and then chuckled as the new one started. “Dancin’ Away with My Heart” by Lady Antebellum.

“What?” he asked as he continued gazing into her eyes.

“Whenever I hear this song on the radio, it always brings to mind the last time we danced together…and saying goodbye on graduation night.”

He danced with her, his chin lowered as he listened to the song, and then a slow smile spread on his lips and he nodded. “Same here. It makes me think of sneaking a dance with you at our senior prom. Remember?”

“Of course. Josie couldn’t stand seeing you looking so sad and turned a blind eye so I could dance with you, and with Ivan.”

A cold front had blown in the night of the prom, and she’d been unprepared for how chilly it had been. Seeing her shiver, Samson had insisted on wrapping her up in his humungous letter jacket. She’d tried to return it after their dance, but he’d refused, saying he’d rather she stay warm and risk never seeing it again. The memory of the intensity in his blue eyes, the set of his jaw, and the steely tone he’d used brought a lump to her throat.

“I couldn’t believe we got away with it,” he murmured, watching her face. She looked down but—protective and intuitive as ever—he saw her fleeting frown. Josie had sworn she hadn’t said a word to anyone, but somehow her dad had known they’d danced together anyway. “What? Did he take my jacket from you and burn it?”

“No.”

Samson cleared his throat, drawing her gaze. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me.”

She shrugged one shoulder and sighed. “Extra chores.”

“He already worked you like a slave. What more could he add to the list?” he probed.

“Cleaning out the rain gutters at the restaurant the following weekend.”

He fumed for a minute and then said, “I remember how chapped and raw your hands had always looked that winter after all the bullshit at the Homecoming game went down. He used you to punish all of us. I wonder how he knew.”

“I don’t know, but I did manage to keep your jacket safe.”

“How?”

“I hid it in my hope chest. Dad would never have looked in there. And it was in our bedroom all those years, but Bill never took an interest in what I kept in there. You could have it back.”

He stroked her cheek as he shook his head. “I gave it to you, to keep you warm.”

She’d never felt so cared for, not in all the intervening years. The man who had consumed all those years came to mind, and she gave a sudden shake of her head.

“You okay? I didn’t mean to bring up unwelcome memories.” His gaze held nothing but concern, even though he frowned and released his hold on her a little bit.

She instantly missed his warmth.

“You didn’t. Like you said, it’s been a lot of years.”

He nodded, as if to himself, and his brows furrowed just a bit before the expression smoothed out and became unreadable.
Did I ruin the moment? Could he tell I was thinking of Bill?
She’d missed Samson all those years, and she hated to think she’d fumbled the moment.
What if he pulled back because he’s noticing all the changes in me now that he’s up close? Is he missing the smaller version of myself I used to be?
There was no judging by his expression.

“Ivan surprised me when he sent me a friend request on Facebook. Things got busy, so I didn’t have a chance to look over his profile, though. What’s he doing these days?”