Bunny and the Beast(Divine Creek Ranch 22)(51)

“An admirer of yours?” Joseph asked, surprised by the small flare of jealousy.

“No. Grinnie and his grandmother, Louisa, are longtime friends. He and his brother live with her, and she tries to take care of them. Thanks to Louisa, I know how to make kickass tamales.”

He glanced at her and grinned as they cruised down the cracked pavement of her street, making a mental note to talk to her—no, lecture her—about his expectations regarding her personal safety. “Tamales? You should tell Carmen. I’ll bet she’d love to have someone in the kitchen to help her make them later this winter.”

In his peripheral vision, he saw her watching him, a quizzical look on her face and then she said, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For assuming you’ll still be putting up with me this winter.”

I could put up with you a long time, fiammetta. A long time. “I have a lot of confidence in you.”

“And you don’t mind bringing me back home after our date? It seems a lot of trouble to go to, just to go on a date with me.”

She’d already explained to him earlier in the week that, while she might spend a night at his place here and there, she couldn’t make a habit of it. Grinnie hadn’t given her a hard time, she’d said, but Bunny’s grandmother had a right to be curious. Now that he’d met Grinnie, he understood why she’d be protective.

Bunny had also explained that her absences tended to upset Tristan’s routine. She tried to keep him on a regular schedule, and he didn’t do well when she wasn’t home in the evenings. Joseph hadn’t complained. They hadn’t discussed where she would sleep in their arrangements, and the last thing he wanted was to alienate her grandmother or her brother. Otherwise, it might jeopardize their nascent relationship. Considering what Tristan’s childhood had been like, Joseph could see where the disruption to his routine might be an issue.

He’d never had a desire to sleep with any of his subs as a matter of habit, so it shouldn’t have bothered him. At least that was what he told himself as he tallied the number of empty guest rooms in his wing of the mansion and took note of the shabby condition of her neighborhood in broad daylight. He could just imagine having that conversation with her.

“I’m sorry, what?” he murmured as he realized she’d asked him a question.

“I said who is it you’d like me to meet?”

Joseph shifted gears as he pulled out onto the state highway and smiled. “A good friend and someone I hope will be a source of encouragement for you. She was a submissive at Hazelle House for a time.”

“Not anymore? Was she your submissive? Personally yours, I mean?” No trace of possessiveness tinged her voice, but he noticed her white knuckles as she gripped the handle of her evening bag in her lap.

“No. She was in a relationship when she first became a member of the club, but it didn’t last. For a time, I thought I might help find the right one for her, but I think in the end, she found the right men.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Men? Boy, what’s in the water around here?” She asked the question with a bit of a chuckle, and Joseph knew she was teasing, and he smiled along with her.

“Her husbands, Ben Lawrence and Quinten Parks, seem to be the perfect men for her.”

“Oh! I think I met them at the Dancing Pony one night.”

Joseph nodded. “Ben is partners with Ethan Grant in the Dancing Pony, and Quinten is a silent partner. They are also involved with the Twisted Bull and Chantilly’s. Camilla runs the nightclub and employs a manager for the steakhouse.”

“She must be a dynamo. So, she was a submissive?”

He nodded. “Still is, and a sassy one at times. Camilla is a little reckless but sweet and definitely submissive. She can answer your questions, and once you get to know her, I’m sure you will like her.”

“Sassy like me?” she asked.

“Oh, no. You take the cake in that department, Bunny. No question.”

They made the journey to Morehead, and he smiled at her rounded eyes when he pulled into the parking lot shared by Chantilly’s Steakhouse and the Twisted Bull nightclub.

“Wow. I think I remember hearing about this place on the radio. I wish I’d worn something more western now,” she said, tugging at the just-above-the-knee-length hem of her little black dress. He couldn’t have directed her to a better choice if she’d left it up to him. The black dressy sandals she was wearing had high heels and an ankle strap. He could picture her kneeling on his bed in them with nothing else on.

Joseph parked the car and placed a hand on her knee. “What you have on is perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”