How Cassie Got Her Grind Back (16 page)

Hank, Travis, and Veronica all nodded when asked, and Cassie said, “I’ll let Mama know, and we’ll get your lunches ready for you. Please have a seat.”

He and Ivan glanced at each other, and Ivan said, “Might as well pull a couple of tables together, huh?”

“Sure.” He struggled with a mild inhospitable urge. He wanted Cassie to the two of them if only for a few minutes. Maybe it might still happen.

A waitress came to take their drink orders, and Cassie began bringing their lunches out, delivering plates piled with steaming-hot pork
carnitas
cooked in her mother’s secret recipe of seasonings, served with fresh corn tortillas and the traditional sides of
borracho
beans, Spanish rice, and a guacamole salad.

Ivan groaned softly as they all tucked into their meals over enthusiastic conversation. Samson contented himself that Cassie sat close between him and his brother. So close her outer thigh and arm brush against him every time she moved.

“Cassie, how is your mother doing?” Grandma Kate asked, before taking a bite and then exclaiming in gastronomic delight over the food. “Is she in today? I’d love to compliment the chef.”

“Me, too. This is delicious,” Hank said and then took another bite and groaned with pleasure.

Cassie smiled. “She’s in the back. Maybe I can convince her to come say hello. She would be so pleased to know all of you have enjoyed her cooking and want to see her,” she said, squeezing his hand on her knee. Her eyes told him it did mean a lot. “She’s been a Godsend to me, helping me with my business.”

“I love hearing you include her, sweetheart,” Grandma Kate said as she took another bite.

“Did you get your roses finished?” Ivan asked after savoring another bite.

“Yes. I still have to put them on the layers and finish the tiers. That’s not quite as time consuming as forming each little petal, though. I should be done in time for the wedding Saturday.”

“Good. I’d love to see the finished product.”

“Sure,” she said with a blush in her cheeks. “It’s probably not as fancy as you might do for the restaurant.”

Ivan shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t care for all the heavy fondant that’s so popular right now. Cake should be light and edible, not like chewing bubblegum, you know?”

“Exactly. I don’t mind using it in small quantities, but some of the pictures I see nowadays look more like sculptures than like cakes. It’s not quite finished but I could take you in the back and show it to you. Would you mind, Samson?” she asked as she picked up her plate and glass.

“Of course not. I think he hoped to get a look at your kitchen anyway,” he said, grinning at Ivan’s nod. He’d been talking about Divine Drip ever since they’d agreed to come for lunch, and the light in his eyes told Samson he approved of what he saw so far. Samson was encouraged by their personal connection over cooking. Ivan rested a hand around her waist as they chatted on the way back to the kitchen.

* * * *

Ivan’s hands twitched with the desire to caress her derriere as she reached across the desk in her office for her cake design book. He glanced out the door and edged closer to her until, when she stood upright, she was flush against his front. He murmured an unapologetic “Oops.”

Looking over her shoulder at him, she bit her lip and said, “You didn’t want to look at my cake, did you?”

“I did. I do. But it’s not the only thing I want.” He pressed his lips to the juncture of her shoulder and her neck, brushing his lower lip across that soft skin of hers until she gasped and shuddered. With cheeks flushed and her eyelids at half-mast, she looked like a seductress. The scent of her skin, clean with a hint of vanilla, made him hungry for more than dessert. “Show me your book, baby.”

Taking a deep breath as if to steady herself, Cassie chuckled and opened the binder she’d placed on the desk. The page protectors were each filled with photographs of cakes she must’ve done in the past, as well as clippings and recipes she’d printed out. She laid the binder flat and pointed. “There it is.”

The cake in the picture was iced smooth with buttercream frosting. The side of each layer was adorned in a different decorating style. Topping each layer and tier were dozens of roses.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. The only difference between the picture and what I’m doing for Violet is the roses on her cake all have just a touch of pink shading brushed on their petals while the rest is all ivory. Here let me show you where I’m at with it now.”

“You created all those roses and then shaded the petals all by hand, too? I’ll bet that’s really something.”

“She’s a good friend,” Cassie said with a smile as she took him by the hand and pulled him into the cooler. “Come ’ere and I’ll show you my petals.”

He’d never thought of food as much of a personal turn-on, but right then, his dick definitely thought so.

His chuckle was dark and suggestive as the door swung against the jamb, giving them the illusion of privacy. “I may need to taste test them, baby. It pays to be thorough, you know?”

* * * *

Samson glanced around the table as he took another mouthwatering bite and happened to catch Grandma Kate watching him with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Samson, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m an emergency dispatcher in Morehead, ma’am. I take 911 calls and help coordinate emergency services.”

“Oh my goodness, that’s a vital and high-pressure job, I imagine.”

“Sometimes, ma’am, but I like the work. I went into the Army right out of high school, and after I returned to civilian life, I served on Morehead’s police department.”

“I noticed you have a slight limp,” she said, raising an eyebrow for him to continue. She was an observant woman to have noticed.

“Yes, ma’am. I took a steel pipe to my knee during a drug raid that went wrong. Busted it up good.”

Hank grunted and shook his head. “My knees ache just thinking about it.”

“Yeah, but I know when the weather’s about to change,” Samson joked. “After I’d recovered, I decided to stay within the department but took a job helping people in emergency situations.”

She nodded sagely. “I served as a nurse during the last great war so I know what it’s like to serve under pressure. I imagine your job calls for someone with steady hands, strong nerves, and the ability to connect with people and help them remain calm when it’s the last thing they feel.”

“It’s challenging at times. I do my best.”

“A big strapping man like yourself must miss the police work in the field occasionally?”

“Yes, ma’am, sometimes I do.” He didn’t miss the relentless drama, constantly seeing the worst in people and the nearly unavoidable cynicism pervasive amongst law enforcement personnel, though.

“I imagine Morehead is fortunate to have your service in whichever capacity. It takes a special man with nerves of steel to take on such a job and serve in the long term.”

Samson’s face felt a little warm as he smiled at her. Lately, he’d felt as if he was going to seed sitting at the dispatcher desk. Kate’s perspective had a way of blowing a breath of fresh air on his career. Joseph had told him once that the same qualities that made him a good Dom also made him a good emergency operator.

When Cassie returned with Ivan, her cheeks were flushed, and there was a dreamy quality in her eyes. Samson chuckled and watched Ivan’s eyes as he looked her up and down from behind. They must’ve had time for at least a kiss or two in the walk-in cooler.

Cassie halted as she looked out the shop window and let out a long sigh. “Folks, I’m afraid I have to excuse myself to handle an issue. Tilly and Marissa will take good care of you, though,” she said, waving at one of the girls from behind the counter, motioning for them to bring the coffee pot and tea pitcher for refills.

“You need any help with this ‘issue’?” he asked as he leaned close so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Hey, you know you got a little frosting…there?” He pointed at the sugary smear on her cleavage and grinned.

Cassie grinned and brushed away what he might’ve licked off of her under other circumstances. Her cheeks grew a little pinker than they already were, and she whispered, “Cake decorating is…messy work sometimes. Don’t leave before I get to see you for a few minutes alone, okay? I need to go head off trouble.”

The problem turned out to be her father, who had just walked in the door. A thinner, grayer, and even grumpier looking version of the perpetually angry man Samson remembered from his youth. Jorge Villalobos hadn’t changed much, but the unfolding scene revealed everything Samson needed to know about how Cassie had changed.

The man’s body language said a lot as he addressed Cassie, shaking his finger at her and then pointing to the kitchen area behind the counter.

“Mom is busy and has nothing to say to you, Dad. Absolutely not.” Cassie crossed her arms over her chest and shifted forward on one foot as she reacted to whatever he was saying and Samson heard him mention Bill’s name. “What? I can’t believe you would even ask that of me. You know he cheated on me.”

“
So
? He loves you.” Jorge’s tone implied she should be grateful.

“He loves
himself
. Like a few
other
men I’ve known.”

Jorge waved a hand as though he was dismissing the words of an idiot. “Pah!” He grumbled some more under his breath and then turned toward the kitchen. She stopped him with an upraised hand.

“No, Dad,” she said, corralling him into a corner near a stack of wooden high chairs, blocking his view of the kitchen. He muttered something in his guttural voice, and she shook her head and replied calmly but with equal force. “I said no. She’s working and doesn’t want to see you.”

“She is my wife!”

“No, she is
not
. You made sure of that years ago. And if I let you back there, you’ll only wind up yelling at her. I have a business to run. Now, you go on before I call Uncle Julio and have him come get you.”

“I don’t want to go with Julio. I can drive myself. I’m making Julio take me to buy a new car.”

“Keep your voice down, Dad. And you’ll do no such thing.”

“You think getting my doctor to sign a paper saying I can’t drive will keep me from doing it anyway? You don’t know me.”

“Unfortunately, I know you all too well. Don’t forget Judge Porter warned you to not drive anymore. You want to wind up in the hospital again? Sheriff Hank Stinson is in here eating lunch. You want to tell him what you think of the judge’s orders?”

“Pah! You don’t know what you’re talking about. Women! You’re worse than your mother.”

Although the exchange concerned Samson, he also was amused by the way her jaw jutted as she stood up to him like a bulldog, not giving an inch. Hank caught her eye as he used his napkin but she smiled and shook her head at him. She handled the situation just fine on her own.

While they debated back and forth, Samson happened to catch sight of the small Hispanic woman who had to be Cassie’s mother as she peeked around the corner of the kitchen area. Delicia Villalobos was a shadow of the woman he remembered. Behind her frown was a trace of fear as she listened but stayed out of sight. What had it been like for her in the years after her arrest for embezzlement of the Volunteer Fire Department funds? From talking to his dad, he had an idea of what it had been like in prison, but his dad had been married to a supportive woman. Mrs. Villalobos’s sentence had ended after the prescribed time, but then she’d had to deal with Mr. Villalobos. Samson didn’t like seeing a woman cowering in fear just at listening to a man rant.

Jorge finally stomped toward the door, grumbling to himself. Cassie followed in his wake and stayed at the window, as if making sure he didn’t change his mind and try to sneak back into the kitchen. The conversation continued all around him, but Samson kept his eyes on her as she stood watching. Her shoulders were a little slumped, and she shook her head as Jorge yelled at someone out in the parking lot.

She looked back to their table and mouthed
sorry
to him with a smile before going out the side door. Samson noticed Hank was watching as well. She disappeared from view down the sidewalk, her cardigan wrapped around her front as she walked against the blustery wind. Hank nudged him as he made to get up and shook his head.

“It’s okay. Her uncle just showed up to give him a ride.”

He wanted to know what her father had said about Bill. That was obviously who she’d been speaking about with him before he’d thrown his tantrum. Samson wondered if he didn’t have a touch of dementia, judging by his behavior. The fact that he’d needed a ride to and from the coffee shop was an indicator of other issues.

With one ear trained to the conversation going on around him, he watched the door and frowned when she returned with someone in tow.

Craning her head, Grandma Kate said, “Well, I wonder what’s going on that has the menfolk so distracted.” Evidently he wasn’t the only one watching the side door as Cassie tugged it open against the wind.

A man in faded and worn clothing followed behind her. She spoke discreetly to him for a moment and then gestured down the hall to the public restrooms. He nodded and seemed to almost want to bow to her, drab knit hat in his hands, before going down the hallway.