Tiny Dancer(Divine Creek Ranch 13)(18)
The single girls looked a little tongue-tied, and Corinna preened under Heath’s appreciative attention as they placed their drink orders. She liked seeing her friends happy, including some of the girls at that table. She turned from the scene and saw Ben’s eyes flick away from her as he stood talking to Quinten behind the bar and then returned to his office. Both looked tense as bowstrings.
She braced herself as she scooted back behind the bar and checked on her customers. Quinten seemed to not even be aware she’d returned. Corinna came to the waitress station at the bar and arched an eyebrow at Camilla as she filled the order Corinna had rattled off.
“What’s got the boss men all pissy?” As Corinna asked, she popped her bubble gum and adjusted her generous boobs, which were prominently displayed in her cowgirl costume. She’d gotten the costume from the same place Camilla had purchased her outfits. Ben and Quinten never fussed about what Corinna wore.
Camilla glanced around and then grabbed her own boobs and replied, “I have no idea.”
Corinna chuckled as she stepped away from the bar with her loaded tray. She’d told Camilla she was enjoying the same increase in her tips since she’d started wearing the costumes which showed her assets off to full advantage.
She was pouring Tom Barton another double of bourbon when he asked, “So what’s on tap for tomorrow?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t tell me I’m the only one who comes in just out of curiosity to see what costume Camilla has on.”
Camilla giggled. “It’s a sad, sad day when customers plan their leisure time around my costumes.”
Nodding at her increasingly full tip jar, Tom replied, “Something you’re doing is working.”
“Well, any day you come in is a happy day for me, Tom.” She placed the drink in front of him.
“You still saving for your own place?”
“Yes, sir. And thank you for the investment advice. I did what you suggested.”
Tom smiled but shook his head like it was no big deal. “Just helping out a little.” He looked down the bar at Ben and Quinten, who were speaking quietly outside Ben’s office door. “Those two know their stuff about this industry.”
“Ben mentioned the possibility of helping me too.”
“I’d bet money they’d never steer you wrong.”
The customer next to Tom accidentally knocked a glass over, and she stepped up on the ledge to blot up the spill as Quinten passed behind her to get to the register. She turned to check on him and noticed his eyes, which had been hooded and aloof, were now bulging as he asked, “Who hit you?”
Holding the sopping-wet towel in her hands, Camilla turned and heaved the drippy mess into the sink.
“What?” Ben poked his head out of his office door, question in his eyes.
Damn it! She’d forgotten about the pop on her ass on the dance floor. “It’s nothing.”
Ben’s eyebrows arched as he ogled her ass, and such a wave of heat simmered through her that she could’ve sworn she blushed with both sets of cheeks. “Did someone hit you, sugar?”
“It’s fine. Nothing, really. It happened on the dance floor.”
In an uncharacteristic move, Quinten tilted her chin so she’d look at him. She’d expect that more from Ben than from Quinten. “Do you see what happens when you wear outfits like this?” His touch, combined with his proprietary air, sent a wave of heat through her. Anger followed on its heels.
She flicked her gaze to the mirror and realized that several customers were surreptitiously tuned in to what was about to become a high-level discussion. Ben gestured toward the cooler with his chin and then called out to Corinna and motioned for her to cover the bar.
Camilla faced off with them in the cooler when the door shut. “It was a light smack on my ass. My skin reddens easily. I experienced far worse at the Dollhouse.”
Ben’s expression was so intense she took a step back. “It does not help to tell us that, Camilla. I’m talking to the guys about their women dancing together. One of these days someone is going to get hurt in here, or worse, outside in the parking lot. I’m not gonna allow it anymore.”
Camilla’s jaw dropped and her forehead felt crinkled as she gaped at him. “Why are you such an alpha male lately? Both of you? You know what I’m wearing is par for the industry. If the smack had been followed by rude behavior I would’ve complained. I wasn’t intentionally provoking anyone—”
Quinten’s frustration was palpable as he replied, “You were. You’re driving—” Ben put his hand on Quinten’s chest, and Quinten growled. He looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t. Did he think she was driving customers away?