Tiny Dancer [Divine Creek Ranch 13] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (9 page)

With work causing such upheaval in her emotions, she figured that had been the reason Joseph had come to mind. She liked running her own life but also relished giving control to someone else and he’d been adept at centering her in the past. With everything so off-kilter between her, Ben, and Quinten, it was possible she needed to make a visit to Hazelle House to create a little buffer.

She thought back on when the tension between the three of them had started to surface. It had been nearly a year since the night that asshole Kade Parker had suggested during a drunken altercation that Camilla led Ben and Quinten around by their balls. She’d done an admirable job up until that moment of denying her growing attraction to both men. To have her nose rubbed in it had stung and made her feel vulnerable, but Ben and Quinten had gone back to acting like nothing had been said after the confrontation was over with, at least until she’d changed her mode of dress.

She followed the curve in the road, relieved and grateful for the distraction of her thoughts as the river bridge came into view, letting her know that she was over halfway there. As she moved ever closer, the roar of the water flowing under the bridge filled her ears. Heavy rains had flooded fields and swelled all the creeks and rivers in the area so that the water had nowhere else to go. The bridge beneath her feet was sturdy, but she could still feel the vibration of the river racing beneath as she trudged on, refusing to pause. The wind flapped the damp hem of her Windbreaker against her upper thighs as it gusted, chilling her so that her teeth chattered uncontrollably. She was barely fit for human company in her current shape. She couldn’t wait to get in a hot shower—

“Oh, shit! Shit!
Shit
!” This time she stopped.

Standing there under her Hello Kitty umbrella, Camilla Shea O’Neal had a walleyed hissy fit. She jumped up and down, stomping her sloshy boots on the asphalt as she cursed a blue streak, having realized that she’d left her overnight bag in her trunk, back at the car.

When she’d calmed down, she was once again aware of how loud the water was and chanced a peek over the guardrail at the river below. The moon broke through the clouds for a moment, illuminating the surface of the churning water. The river was already swelled over its banks and into the river bottom and was beginning to fill in the lowlands on either side. She felt small and alone, perched over a force that large and uncontrollable.

“If they close this bridge tonight before I can get my stuff, I’m gonna be so pissed. Oh, yeah, Cami, like you’re not already there? Well done, baby cakes. Shit!”

There was no help for it so she walked on toward Grace’s home, the end of the bridge and the last half of the trek in sight. Distant lightning flickered.
Well, sort of in sight
. She sped up her steps.

Ben and Quinten and their unpredictable moods came to mind. She loved working with them. Ben was a sweet boss, usually, and he had a great partner in Ethan, whom she adored. Quinten was a hoot to be around and normally so easygoing that nothing got to him. At least it had always been that way until the last few months. She didn’t know what to do.

“I know what I’d like to do, though.” Ben had looked ready to kiss her earlier in the cooler. Part of her wished he had. “Can’t go there, Camilla, no matter how much you want to. You know what happens when you mix business with pleasure.” Especially considering that she wanted them
both
. She had no idea how they’d feel about that.

“You can’t go there with either of them because once you flip that switch your heart will be involved and you can never go back. Right now, they don’t know how you feel about them. You look into their eyes while one of them makes love to you and you’ll be addicted.”
Oh, but it’s an addiction I’d never want to be set free from.

Unfortunately, she also knew how it felt to
need
someone else and be cut loose from them, irrevocably and involuntarily. The pain wasn’t worth it and she couldn’t risk it again.

The thought of them no longer being a part of her life made a chill sweep through her heart that rivaled the cold, wet wind lambasting her. She shook her head. Talking about it only increased the need she felt for them.

Headlights lit the road ahead of her as a vehicle drove onto the bridge behind her. She couldn’t avoid being seen because she still had a bit of distance to go on the bridge. So much for her plan to hide in the bushes. The rain, which had only been falling in a steady downpour, became a deluge, illuminated like cold silver curtains by the vehicle’s headlights.

“Crap!”

She prayed they didn’t hit her as she walked on the narrow shoulder next to the guardrail. The end of the bridge came into sight, and she lengthened her stride as the vehicle approached steadily. She hopped over the rainwater-filled dip between the bridge and the road just seconds before the truck hit it at full speed, spraying her with a surge of cold, muddy water.

* * * *

“We’ve been living in limbo with the dream so long that if the dream is all I have, I don’t want to let it go,” Quinten said, voicing his feelings on the matter.

They hadn’t come so far only to lose her. With all the interruptions at the club, Quinten hadn’t been able to give her the private apology he’d wanted to but had done his best. At least she wasn’t seething mad at him for opening his big mouth anymore. Ben hadn’t been able to do the same, which Quinten could tell had him out of sorts.

They had a more pressing concern at the moment, though. They’d passed Camilla’s white Camaro marooned on the side of the road a couple of miles back, with her nowhere in sight. He wasn’t sure if he’d feel more relieved to find her hoofing it to Grace’s house in the cold rain, or to not see her anywhere at all on that lonely stretch of road. They’d already tried her cell phone, and the call had gone to her voice mail.

Squinting out the windshield as the deluge increased, Quinten said, “She seemed so…downhearted after whatever that was that happened in the cooler. Do you think we blew it? We may not be able to keep her from moving to San Antonio. We’ve got to talk to her before she makes that decision.” He’d do whatever it took.

“That’s a choice only she can make. I need to apologize first before we try any convincing on the other issue.”

In the hellacious downpour, Quinten saw a vibrant flash of color a split second before Ben hit the shallow dip at the end of the bridge.

Quinten peered out the back window as Ben slowed down. “There she is! Shit, we hit that dip and soaked her! That’s her umbrella.”

Ben slammed on the brakes, and Quinten jumped out the door into the downpour. Sure enough, Camilla stood on the roadside soaked and covered in mud, thanks to the truck splashing her. She had her hand to her face, trying to clear the mud and rainwater that must’ve splashed into her eyes. He yanked off his jacket and was about to put it around her when she suddenly jumped back as she fearfully squinted at him.

“Camilla, it’s me, Quinten. Come on!”

Lit by the red taillights of the truck, he could see her lip tremble like she was about to cry as Ben turned the hazard lights on and jumped out on the other side. “Sugar, you okay?”

Her teeth were chattering as Quinten pulled the jacket around her and she tried to reply, “Uh-huh-huh.” Her whole body trembled as he pulled her close and then walked her to the truck. He lifted her into the front seat, and she struggled with the umbrella until he finally took it and closed it for her. Ben turned the heater up after he climbed back in and then proceeded down the road.

Her chattering teeth made it difficult for her to explain what had happened to her car, but she finally got it out. She wiped at her running mascara and looked at her muddied legs and ruined boots.

“I can’t go to Grace’s like this.”

“We live just a ways down the road. You can come to the—”

“We?”

Quinten remembered Camilla was still out of the loop concerning their living arrangements. Ben replied for them. “Yeah. Quinten moved in a few weeks ago.”

“Oh.” She nodded and tried to smile as she gripped the coat to her. “Cool.” More teeth chattering and then she said, “So…you guys live together, huh?” She seemed unsure of what else to say for a minute.

Ben nodded. “Yup.”

“How’s that working out?”

“Pretty good, I guess. We’re hoping it improves, though.”

Quinten was almost relieved as Ben cautiously tested the waters.

“Oh, yeah? Having a roommate requires an adjustment. So you’re…”

Quinten nearly drew blood as he bit the inside of his lip when he realized what she was hinting at. Ben did too as he looked at her before returning his gaze to the windshield. They’d had to slow way down because of the poor visibility. “We’re what?”

“You know. Partners? I didn’t…realize.” Noticing Quinten’s raised brow, Camilla looked a combination of mortified and disappointed. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

Ben chuckled and finally relented. “No, we’re not lovers. We’re just roommates. We’re friends too, outside of work. In our time off, we’ve been renovating the house.”

“Is it an older house?”

“Built in the eighties. It needed some updating.”

“That explains the paint in your hair. Did you do it all yourself?”

“Some of it. Jack Warner contracted part of it.”

Through the windshield, Quinten noted when they rolled past the entry to the Divine Creek Ranch.

“That was my turnoff,” Camilla said as she pointed a finger at the window. “You just missed it.”

Ben shook his head and glanced over at Quinten. This was the moment. Quinten nodded and tilted the vent so that it pointed directly at her. “You can come out to our place and get cleaned up and then you can call Grace from there and let her know you’re okay. Stay with us and we’ll see about your car in the morning.”

“I don’t want to put you out like that. I can call a tow truck.”

Ben shook his head. “Sugar, you’re probably not going to be able to get a tow truck out on a nonemergency call in weather like this. The car is safe where you left it. We can take care of it for you. Right now, you need to get warmed up.”

Quinten was all kinds of happy that the work on the house had just been completed because now she’d be able to make use of the amenities.
Just wait until she gets a look at that tub. Bless you, Grace Warner.
Thanks to her, the newly renovated house no longer looked like a frat house. She’d even gone shopping with them and helped decorate the place. He sincerely hoped Camilla liked it.

She looked from one to the other of them. “I’m curious about something.”

“What’s that, sugar?” Ben asked as they continued down the road.

“You’re Quinten’s boss, right? How does living together work when you’re also employer-employee?”

Ben shrugged. “We’ve been friends a while, just a little longer than I’ve known you. We get along well together, and Ethan and I have never had any sort of problem dealing with Quinten. He works hard, just like you do. Quinten approached us a year ago about investing in The Pony. At that point we opted to make him a silent partner.”

“Oh, I never knew that. Wow.”

Quinten adjusted the heat as the truck cab grew warmer. “I didn’t think it was something that needed to be bandied about. I like what I do, and didn’t feel the need for a different job title, so we kept it between the three of us.”

Ben said, “He still serves as head bartender, but I see him more as partner.”

“You know, looking back, I can see that the relationship between the three of you is more as equals. I’m sorry, Quinten. I hope you don’t think I’m questioning your position.”

“Not at all, baby. Sometimes an atypical relationship is better for everyone.”

“You really don’t treat me like an employee either, do you?” she asked. “Even when you’re griping about my choice of work attire, you’re doing it as…territorial males.”

She didn’t say another word as Ben drove down the long driveway.

* * * *

Camilla’s hand trembled from the chill deep inside her as she held Ben’s phone to her ear. Her gaze returned to her surroundings, the master bathroom of Ben’s big ranch house, as Grace replied to her question.

“What would I do if I were in your shoes? How long have you known me, Cami?” Her soft chuckle told Camilla that Grace’s choice wouldn’t be to duck and run. “I’m just glad nothing worse happened to you.”

“I c–could have one of them b–bring me over r–real quick.”

“Listen to you, Camilla. Your teeth are chattering. You probably have mild hypothermia. Get warmed up. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“W–We’d fall into bed together.”
Is that really the worst thing? Say it all you like, but you want that in the worst way possible.
The worst-case scenario was them finding out that she wanted—loved—them both and then rejecting her.

Grace had clued in to Camilla’s attraction to Ben and Quinten the year before. Camilla knew the woman had serious matchmaking radar but hadn’t said much, respecting Camilla’s self-imposed rule.

“Worst case—they wouldn’t want a washed-up ex–exotic dancer for a girlfriend much less anything permanent. We could wind up ruining a perfectly wonderful employer-employee relationship.” She reached into the big tile shower enclosure and turned on one of three showerheads. The thought that there were three flickered as odd in the back of her mind.