“What?” Ben asked wearily.
“Are you pissed that I told them?”
I’m more pissed about the shitty things you said to me regarding the land deal. “I’ll get over it. Eventually.”
“Well, that’s…good, I guess. I’ll see you around.” Dalton practically ran out.
Ben sort of felt sorry for him. Sort of.
Quinn stepped behind the bar. Ben sat on the barstool between Gavin and Chase. Which was strange because Ben usually kept the bar as a buffer between himself and those he served.
Maybe that’s an indication of how you view the world.
“Drinks all around, boys,” Quinn said lining up four shot glasses and filling them with Scotch. He raised his glass. Paused. “What the hell are we drinking to?”
“To Dalton bein’ a dumbass,” Chase drawled.
They laughed and clinked their glasses together.
Gavin motioned for Quinn to set ’em up again. “As much as you won’t apologize for the lifestyle you lead behind closed doors, I won’t apologize for buying Rielle’s place. So if you want to berate me, go ahead. But I don’t want it to be a point of contention between us forever, Ben.”
“I’ve no interest in beatin’ that horse anymore. It’s dead. And buried.”
“Fair enough.”
“I can’t believe you all showed up.” Ben looked at Chase and Gavin. “Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?”
“Nah. We didn’t wanna worry them. Now that we know you ain’t some psycho killer, we’ll probably just take off without telling them. It’ll stay between us.”
Ben fiddled with his full shot glass. “Ah, thanks.”
“I’ll admit it’s a slippery concept to grasp, pain as foreplay. But as long as I don’t gotta watch you in action? It ain’t none of my business,” Chase said.
“In all seriousness. The reason I laughed so f**king hard when Dalton said you were outta control? Because I know you, Ben. I work with you every goddamn day. You have more control, more cool-headedness and more compassion, in any situation, than anyone I know.”
Ben had no idea what to say to that.
They bullshitted about nothing. But it didn’t seem forced. Or like they were all trying to avoid the elephant in the room.
Quinn and Chase took off, cracking jokes about examining Ben’s collection of chains, whips and sex toys. Ben would’ve been worried if they hadn’t given him a rash of shit about being a pervert.
But Gavin wasn’t in a hurry to leave.
“So was Sierra covered in body piercings when you picked her up a few weeks back?”
“No. Luckily for her mother. She’s a piece of work. It’s no wonder I steer clear of anything resembling a date.”
“Your ex-wife has ruined you for all other women?”
“Christ, she’d have a field day thinking she still had that much power over me.” Gavin sighed. “I just don’t have the…hell if I know. Desire? Patience? Time? Balls? My excuses change every week. It isn’t so much Ellen’s fault anymore as it is I find reasons not to meet women, let alone get mixed up with one.” He sipped the Scotch. “What about you? Still involved with that new banker?”
Ben shot him a sideways glance. “Bein’ involved with Ainsley wasn’t common knowledge, so where’d you hear it?”
“Rielle said her car was here a lot.”
“Yeah, well, it’s over.”
“Why? Because you came clean to her about your club life as a dominant?”
How did he phrase this and keep Ainsley’s experimentation as a sub a secret?
Gavin whistled. “She’s into the life too, isn’t she? I’m guessing she’s your sub?”
“She was my sub.”
“For how long?”
Not nearly long enough. “A month.”
“She ended it?”
“Yeah.”
“So what if she wouldn’t have?”
“I’d still be with her. The ironic thing about Dalton seeing me at the club? I hadn’t been there for the month I’d been with Ainsley. As I walked around? I felt nothing. I just f**king missed her. Missed who I was with her.” And it all poured out. “Since the night I met her I felt our relationship would be different. Club subs want good times and the anything-goes sex. Bringing them out of that world and into mine wouldn’t work. But Ainsley…works. She’s smart and sexy. She challenges me. She gets me. She goes from bein’ the bank prez, to hanging out with me, to bein’ my sub, all in one night. Almost seamlessly. She’s amazing.”
“So what did you do to f**k it up?”
“She’s the bank president. No one can know she associates with lowlife sexual degenerates like me who belong to the Rawhide Club,” he said with a slightly bitter edge.
Gavin shook his head and chuckled.
“What?”
“You. All ‘I’m the dominant, I’m in charge’, and yet, here you are, moping around in your house with your dogs. You’re not that guy, Ben. I’m that guy and trust me, it’s beyond f**king pathetic. So I’m going to mimic the ‘be a man’ advice you gave our brothers. If you want this woman for the long haul, make it happen. Screw the club. You haven’t needed it the last month, you don’t need it now. Play with her here. Or at her place. Set your own rules. Or change the rules.”
Ben was as flustered by the admonishment as he was by Gavin’s admission of brotherly ties. “It’s not that easy.”
Or was it?
Chapter Thirty-One
Ben had come inside from cleaning out the cattle truck when she burst through his front door. The dogs went berserk. Barking and jumping until she threw two rawhide chews out the door and slammed it shut behind them.
Christ. His mother was mad as a wet hen. She angrily pulled off her purple gloves finger by finger. Only after she’d shed the outer layer did she seem calm enough to speak. “Hello, son.”
“Mom. It’d be nice if you didn’t banish my dogs from their home every time you come over.”
“Those mutts belong outside. I’ll take a cup of coffee if it’s fresh.”
He poured a cup, refilled his mug and faced her.
“You look like hell, Bennett.”
“Gee, thanks. What brings you by?”
“This and that.”
She curled her hands around the coffee mug and wandered to the kitchen window, appearing to gather her thoughts.