Each of them had their way of marking their submissive as theirs in a public way. Savannah had a lovely rose quartz and silver wire collar that, unlike Marcie’s private one, could usually pass for public use, but she wasn’t wearing it today. Given the BDSM significance of the fleur-de-lis, he knew the anklet was a subtle, pleasurable way for Savannah to be aware of Matt’s ownership when not wearing his formal collar. He’d probably put it on her himself this morning.
Dana had nodded absently, acknowledging Savannah’s description. She put the green top of the strawberry in one of the trash pockets and turned her head toward the window as if she could see it, the dark glasses screening her eyes.
Dana was normally one of the most playful and chatty when the women were together, so the laconic response caught Ben’s attention. For the first time, he noted a tightness around her mouth. He wasn’t the only one. Rachel glanced at her searchingly, then exchanged a look with Cass.
Hmm. Ben turned his attention back to Savannah. Since he didn’t yet have enough information to know if there was a problem that needed solving, he’d keep a peripheral eye on Peter’s normally outgoing wife.
“It’s almost as beautiful as the ankle wearing it,” he said to Savannah, making her smile. "Where else do you all want to go?" he asked all of them.
"Hot Toddy," Dana said. She managed an echo of her usual impish smile as she said it. Even without sight, she had an uncanny way of picking up the vibes around her, and he wondered if she’d realized she was drawing attention.
Max glanced up in the mirror with quizzical gray eyes. Ben gave him an even look in reply. "You heard the woman. And she said it, I didn't. Mark that down. I said I would take them wherever they wanted to go. Even a lingerie shop. You’re required to tell the truth when they administer the polygraph.”
Max snorted. “We’re trained to beat those.”
“I’ll bet. Savannah, how about you?" Then he noted her checking her phone. It was the third time since she’d gotten into the car.
"Do I need to take that away from you?" Cass queried, making a grab for it.
Savannah evaded her with a rueful smile. "No, I'm sorry. Matt went upstairs at your place to get Angelica up from her nap. He’s sending me some wonderful pictures."
"Oh, let me see." Cass took the phone and passed it to Marcie, setting off a round of oohs and aahs. Despite his derogatory imitation, Ben had to admit it was an oddly comforting pleasure, sitting on the sidelines and watching how women acted when out together.
That said, when he glanced at Dana, he was even more sure something was wrong. Her lips had tightened, and she was back to “staring” out the window. Usually Dana loved to hear anything about Savannah and Matt's daughter. She and Peter regularly put their name in the hat for Angelica’s football-team-sized babysitting pool.
Ben’s long legs covered well over half the distance to Dana, so he stretched out a foot and touched Dana’s sandaled toes, the nails painted a rich burgundy color. “Come over here, army grunt.”
Dana reluctantly complied, shifting to his other side. Rachel now had the phone. As the conversation continued among the other women about the content, Ben laid an arm over Dana's shoulders. "Okay there, baby girl?"
"Sure." She gave him a bright smile that had zero wattage. Considering, he extended his hand to Rachel, who offered him the phone, but not without shooting another speculative look at Dana.
Ben knew it had to grate on occasion, always having to wait for a description of what everyone else could see. Dana wasn’t a complainer, though, and seemed well-reconciled to her lack of sight. He expected the problem was something else, and wondered if Peter knew what it was. He’d do a little digging himself, in case.
"Let's see what we have here." Ben used the arm around Dana’s shoulder to help him scroll, so she was in a tighter circle of both his arms. It coaxed a half-hearted chuckle from her, but it was some progress.
Marcie smiled at him, knowing what he was doing. Her fingers on his biceps stroked in approval, moving up to play with the hair on his nape. She pressed her breast against his upper arm as she leaned in to see the photos again.
"Matt's taken a picture of the little troll in the curve of his arm,” Ben said. “She’s still waking up. It looks like they're out on the back patio again. There are sun and shadow patterns on her face. She's wearing a pink thing with lace and is a ridiculously adorable tyrant, as always."
Dana moved her hand to the phone, finding it by sliding her hand along Ben's arm. Not a tease, though she could be outrageously forward at times. All the women could be flirtatious or physically affectionate with any of the K&A men, though it never became blatantly sexual in the absence of each woman's actual Master.
It wasn't a spoken rule, because it didn't need to be. It simply was. From the very first pairing, Matt and Savannah, the men had made it clear the women of their inner circle were part of a closely-knit pack, where all the males claimed them at a certain, provocative level. They considered it their job to protect and care for them, in almost all the ways each woman’s Master would himself.
Dana lightly touched the screen. It was as if it connected her with the picture, the way sight would for others.
"She's an angel."
“Shoe store,” Cass announced abruptly. The ladies laughed as Max automatically braked and started looking for an open spot to deposit them in front of the boutique.
“What is it with women and shoes?” Ben asked. Cass lifted a brow.
“You’re the one who didn’t want Peter to throw you into the bushes because of your shirt. The price of which could likely feed a small country.”
“Thank you, I’ve sent in my donation to nourish the Third World this month. But I have a select number of shirts and shoes. Quality over quantity. Shoes are not supposed to be potato chips.”
“Who doesn’t like to eat more potato chips?” Marcie said, tickling his side with playful fingers.
Max had found a spot and left the driver’s seat to open the passenger door. The ladies started to slide out, each taking his helping hand to exit. Ben expected the sight of so many head-turning women coming out of a limo, shepherded by a guy who looked like he could teach the Secret Service a thing or two, was going to have people snapping pictures, thinking they were someone famous.
Ben would let Max handle Instagram maniacs. He put a hand on Dana’s arm, holding her in place. Rachel was the last to go before them, so Ben directed his message to her. “Dana’s going to stay here and neck with me and Max. She has combat boots for every day of the week, so she’s set.”
Rachel’s expression of concern about her best friend eased into a smile and nod to Ben. As Max closed the door after he helped her out, Ben watched the women proceed into the store, comfortably chatting. The limo driver returned to his seat in front, but he kept his eye on the street traffic around the store. While the worst the women would encounter would be the inevitable bane of panhandlers, once a SEAL, always a SEAL. Ben felt comfortable turning his full attention to Dana.