Trusting Her Doms [Pleasure, Texas 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jane Jamison

  Lifting her gaze, she put on a big smile and thrust out her chest. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  The gleam in Hank’s eyes grew stronger. “Sure.”

  Ron added his bright grin. “Yeah. Real men like to gossip, too.”

  Damn. Hot and funny.

  All at once, she remembered that Suzie had a front row seat to their exchange. “Um, Suzie, will you give us a minute?”

  Suzie would give her hell later, but for now, she acted like the good friend she was. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. I, um, need to check on that thing we were talking about.” She pointed toward the back of the store. “You know. That thing.”

  Carly nodded, wishing Suzie would stop talking and start walking. She lifted her eyebrows, then inclined her head to help her friend get moving.

  Once Suzie had finally gone, she finished ringing them up, then waited until Hank had put all the items into a paper bag. “Anyway, my secret is this.” She dragged in a long breath, then let it out slowly. “I’ve had, um, used to have a crush on you. On both of you.”

  How’s that for a move?

  She wasn’t sure if the glance they gave each other was a good thing or not. Speak. Say something. As long as you don’t laugh at me.

  “We never knew. Why didn’t you tell us back then?” asked Ron.

  She was in the thick of it now. “Why? Oh, maybe because you two were, are, the hottest men to ever walk in this town. And maybe because I was a high school kid and you were grown men. Men who went off to war while I headed for college. I figured we’d never see each other again.”

  She liked Hank’s laugh a lot. Especially since it wasn’t at her expense. “That’s true. I guess the timing sucked.”

  “Yeah. Big-time.” Was that it? Weren’t they going to tell her that they’d noticed her, too? Had really noticed her? And yet she knew better than to put her faith in men.

  “Say, Carly?”

  Shit. They aren’t going to say anything nice back. Just like every other man in my life. Why had I let myself believe they were different?

  “Yes?” She plastered on her “For Customers Only” smile, determined to retain what was left of her dignity.

  “Have you ever thought about getting a different job? No offense, but I think your talents”—Hank paused, his gaze sliding over her breasts, then back to her face—“are wasted stuck behind a register at a grocery store.”

  “He’s right.” Ron gave her his debit card.

  Finally. Someone with a debit card.

  “You should apply for a waitress job out at the club.”

  She slid the card, letting the time it took for Ron to punch in his PIN give her a chance to regroup. “So being a waitress is better than a checker?”

  “Yeah, I’d say so. The Casing men pay their staff a good wage, plus the staff makes great tips. You’d make a lot more money out there.”

  She tried hard not to stare at them. They were so hot, so sexy, that it was hard not to. But obviously, they weren’t interested in her. Except to get her a better paying job.

  She could use the money. After saving as much as she could, taking multiple jobs while in college, and pinching pennies, she had almost enough to buy a place that she and her mom could share. That was, if she could ever convince her mother to leave her father. If she had a better paying job, she could make it happen sooner.

  But the club?

  “Truthfully, guys, I’m not sure I could handle what goes on out there.” It was as good an excuse as any. Maybe what she really couldn’t handle was seeing them there. Seeing them with another woman.

  “I think you could handle a lot more than you think.”

  Was that smoldering look Hank gave her a challenge?

  “Anyway, think about it. If you like, I can talk to one of the Casing boys about giving you an interview.” Ron pointed at the card she’d laid back on the counter. “Give me a call if you change your mind.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Just as they were about to leave, Little John poked his broad, fat face out of his office. She had no choice but to say the words she didn’t want to say to anyone, much less to the men of her dreams.

  “Y’all come back now, ya here?”

  How she managed to maintain a cheerful smile until they’d exited the building was beyond her. She groaned, then closed her eyes and prayed she’d drop through the floor and straight into the abyss of hell.

  “You did not just say that to them.”

  She glared at Suzie who had come up behind her. “What else could I do? Little John was watching.” Naturally, he’d gone back into his office a moment after she’d already blurted out the ridiculous phrase.

  “I’m so sorry. But hey, you got to talk to them, right? That’s all that matters.” Suzie was nothing if not consistent in her optimism. She eased closer still as Old Man Hawn ambled toward her check-out stand. At that rate, it’d take him another fifteen minutes to make it there.

  “So what’d you talk about? What could you say to them that you couldn’t say in front of me?”

  “I took a chance and told them about the crush I had on them. And I didn’t want you standing there when I told them. You know, in case they laughed at me.”

  “You know I would’ve had your back even if they had laughed. But they didn’t, did they? So did they make a move back?”

  “Not unless you consider offering to put a good word in to one of the Casing men at the club making a move.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the register. Old Man Hawn was still on his way.

  “They did? Really? Well, hey, that’s something, right?”

  “Is it? Can you see me working at a place like that?”

  “Yeah, actually I can.”

  “But you know the waitresses do more than just sling drinks, right?”

  “Yeah, but I think serving drinks is all they’re required to do. Anything more is up to them.”

  She’d only do the waitress part of the job. No way would she do half of what she’d heard they did out there. Like stripping in front of members? Like getting tied up and whipped? There was no fucking way she’d demean herself like that.

  “And you know what? Missy Harrelson told me that she overheard Myrtle telling Sugar Wilson that they were down a waitress. It seems Alice Underland finally decided to move to Los Angeles.” She snorted a laugh. “Like she has any chance of making it as a movie star.”

  “So they really do have an opening?”

  “Yeah. They do. You’d make a ton of money out there. From what I heard—”

  “Let me guess. From Missy Harrelson who overheard Myrtle who was telling Sugar Wilson, right?”

  Suzie frowned. “Don’t make fun of my sources. They’re more reliable than CNN.”

  The fact was, they were. “So you heard that Alice was making a lot of money, huh?”

  “Enough to buy a nice new car with a stash left over to pay her rent out in La-La Land for six months.”

  “Wow. I knew they made good money, but nothing like that. Alice didn’t even work there that long.”

  “See? So? Are you going to give the guys a call and let them help you out?” Her frown deepened. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.”

  “Why not? Oh. Because you want to get the job for yourself?” She hadn’t thought about that. Suzie would have the upper hand since she’d held down a job since high school.

  “Are you kidding me?” She waved her hands down the sides of the rail-thin body. “I couldn’t pass their job requirements. You’re the one with the hot body. Me? I’m meant to be a housewife and work here until I either kill Little John or myself.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You have a nice body, too.” She didn’t want to hurt Suzie’s feelings, but her friend’s body was shaped more like a stick. No boobs and no butt. Just straight down with no curves at all. Poor thing was often mistaken for a young boy.

  Suzie noticed the card still lying on the counter. “Call them, okay?”

  Carly took it and push
ed it inside her bra. “I will. But not right now.” She gave Old Man Hawn a congratulatory smile as he started loading his five items onto the belt. “Did you find everything you needed, sir?”

  Her body took care of his purchases, automatically saying and doing the right thing. But her mind was already planning ahead. She’d told Suzie she’d call about the waitress position, but should she really do it?

  Chapter Two

  “She looks good. Damn good.” Hank resisted the urge to sneak another look at Carly. He’d always found her attractive, but hadn’t made any moves since the last time they’d seen her she’d been eighteen years old. He and Ron were ready for their tour of duty and had gotten a glimpse before she’d left for college. Considering he was ten years older and Ron was five years older than she was, combined with the fact that she was a young girl leaving home for the first time, they’d chocked up their attraction to simply a matter of appreciating a nice body. Too young was too young.

  “She was always a pretty girl, but she’s filled out since then.”

  “She filled out and we got older.” Hank slid behind the wheel of his Jeep and caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. Was he still too old for her? They usually played with women their own age, but now that Carly was twenty-two, the age difference didn’t seem so big.

  “Speak for yourself, old man. You’re only as young as you feel, and I feel like I’m still running football plays back in high school.”

  He could always count on Ron to see things in a lighter frame. “Ten years is twice as much as five. Besides, I thought you wanted to hunt for that special one? That one woman we’d share between us from now on.”

  “I am. I know you say you’re not ready, but how much longer is it going to take? I’m ready and willing, man, and I think she could be that one. Besides, someone five years younger than me isn’t too young as long as we’re both consenting adults. Naw, man. You might think you’re too old for her, but I’m the perfect age. The way I see it, she’s old enough to know what she wants and young enough to get it.”

  “Yep. I can always count on your ego to keep things in perspective.”

  “What I’m saying, asshole, is that you’re not that old. Hell, you sound like you’re getting ready to push up daisies. Stop making excuses.”

  “I’m not.” Or was he?

  “Yeah. You keep telling yourself that. In the meantime, the woman who could be the right one just slipped away because of your unwillingness to commit.”

  “Shit. You sound like you’re a damn therapist.”

  Ron shrugged. “Can’t say a few sessions on a couch wouldn’t help you any.”

  “Is that right?” Hank grinned at him. “Here’s my therapist.” He gave him the one-finger salute.

  “Real mature, man. See? You’re still young at heart.”

  Hank should’ve known Ron would get the last dig in. But he didn’t mind. Ron had a mind for numbers and a sharp wit on top of that. Ron was also quick to make decisions and to act on them. Hank was more the steady-as-you-go, think-it-over type.

  “The problem I see is that she’s got a reputation for having a chip on her shoulder. Seems she’s had some rough times with men and now she dumps us all in the same categories of liars and cheaters.”

  Hank steered the vehicle down Main Street and lifted his hand to the ladies standing outside Myrtle’s Salon. God knew who they were gossiping about now.

  “Can you blame her? Her old man taught her right from the start that men weren’t trustworthy.”

  “True enough. But she’ll have to get that chip off her shoulder if she wants to work at the club. If she doesn’t, it won’t matter if she gets the job or not. She won’t last long without trusting the Doms there. Us, included.”

  “Damn it. We should’ve done something about her father before we left. I could still kick my ass for not stepping in. Sheriff Ray’s never done anything about it and he’s not going to haul that jerk off to jail anytime soon. He’s too fucking lazy to mess with the problem.”

  Sheriff Dick Ray was a good enough guy, but he liked being a small-town sheriff far too much. It was an easy job that required a lot of sitting on his butt and waiting for nothing to happen. Aside from hauling in a drunk whenever he felt like it, the only real trouble he’d ever had to deal with was when Georgia Fox was attacked by Slasher Jack, a killer from Atlanta. Even then, all he’d done was call in the big boys from the Dallas Police Department and the FBI to do the heavy lifting on the case.

  “Part of that is because her mom, Sharon, won’t press charges. Carly’s not going to do it, either, if her mother won’t.”

  He leaned against the door, letting the wind whip through his hair. Carly and her family’s situation made him feel useless. Still, if he ever heard of Bill Rivers putting his hands on either Sharon or Carly again, he wouldn’t wait for Sheriff Ray to get off his sorry ass and do something. He’d take matters into his own hands.

  “I hope she takes me up on that offer. I know Paul would go for it. He’s never one to turn down a new submissive, especially if the girl needs the money to get away from a bad situation.”

  “Fuck. You mean she’s living at home again?” Maybe having her at the club wasn’t a bad idea. That way, he could check on her and make sure she wasn’t getting shoved around by her good-for-nothing father.

  “Yeah, man. Didn’t you know? She came back home from college and went straight back into the family home. You know Little John’s not going to pay her enough to get her own place. Hell, if he wouldn’t get reported, he wouldn’t even pay his employees minimum wage.”

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me. Why don’t you mention her to Paul tonight? Get him to call her and line up an interview?”

  Ron slapped him good-naturedly on the arm. “Now there’s the horny bastard I know. And while I’m at it, I’ll ask him if we can be there for the interview.”

  “What the hell for?” Not that he’d mind. Watching her go through the interview process would be a treat. He’d seen other women interview, but never anyone he’d had any real interest in.

  “Why the hell not?”

  Ron took out his phone and punched in the speed dial number for Paul Casing, co-owner of the Club at Pleasure Ranch, then put the call on speaker. Paul picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Paul. It’s Ron Callows and Hank Irons. You still have that waitress job open?”

  “Sure do.” Paul chuckled. “Hey, I know we’re friends and all, but I’ve got to say, you’d look like shit in the outfit.”

  Hank let out a loud laugh. The vision of his large friend stuffed into the tight top and skirt all the waitresses wore was hilarious. They might as well try putting the skimpy outfit on a bull.

  “You’re a hoot and a half, jerkwad. Naw, I’m talking about Carly Rivers.”

  “Carly, huh? So she’s ready to quit the market and make decent money?”

  “Decent? Hell, if I really could fit into that outfit, I’d take you up on the job. Those girls make damn good money.”

  “Like I said, buddy, you’d be butt-ugly in it. Sorry, but you just don’t have the necessary physical attributes to qualify.”

  “Yeah, yeah. All kidding aside, can I send her in to see you?”

  “Naw. Let me give her a call and set it up. I think it’ll be a waste of time, though. She doesn’t hit me as the type to take orders.”

  Obviously, Paul had heard about her attitude toward men.

  “Give her a chance, okay? As a favor to us.”

  “A favor, huh? So you’ve got a special interest in her?”

  “We’re just helping a pretty girl out is all.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay, I’ll give her a call later on tonight after she’s finished at the market.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime.”

  Ron ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket. “See? Problem solved.”

  Hank made the right turn onto the gravel road that led to their ranch. The house wasn’t muc
h. It was one of the smaller, older homes around, but it was all theirs, without them owing a dime to the bank. The house glistened in the sunlight from the fresh coat of white paint they’d given it last week. Blue shutters and a blue front door gave it a cheery appearance although he often wished it had a bigger porch that would handle more than one rocker. The blue made the place a little too cottagey for his taste, but when the blue paint had gone on sale, it had been a no-brainer. As Ron had said, “Thank God pink wasn’t on sale.” Not that it would’ve mattered to him. He liked saving money almost as much as he liked working with horses and cattle.

  “Half of it’s solved. Now you’ve got to get Carly to go for the interview and get her to do whatever she has to do to get the job.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Hank, old man. I can talk a dog into fucking a cat if I need to.”

  Hank shot him a disgusted look. “Where the hell do you come up with that shit?”

  * * * *

  “That’s fucked up.” Carly fisted her hands and gritted her teeth.

  If she got any angrier, she’d have to storm out of the house to keep from going berserk. But that would mean leaving her mother alone with her asshole of a father and she didn’t dare do that. If he’d been sober—not that it happened often—then she could’ve done that. As it was, he was already into his second six-pack of cheap beer and talking about sending her to the market to get a fifth of whiskey and more beer. She coughed, hating the smoke that billowed around her in the tiny living room.

  The man who sat in the torn up, broken-down recliner didn’t resemble the man in the photo over the mantel. Neither did the timid woman cowering next to the entrance into the even smaller kitchen. Her parents’ wedding photo was black and white and grainy, but it was still good enough that she could see how beautiful her mother had been and how handsome her dad was in his twenties. The photo was one of the few times she’d ever seen smiles on their faces.

  Bill Rivers sneered at her with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “That’s my decision, girl. Either come up with the cash or get your ass out of here by tomorrow night.”