Tiny Dancer(Divine Creek Ranch 13)(22)

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“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.