The CEO & I

by River Laurent

  “Oh, Lars,” the cashier simpers, her demeanor changing so fast it’s enough to give you whiplash. “What can I do for you?” She shakes her hair even more dramatically than Tamara Honeywell could. Twirling a lock around her finger, she gazes up at Lars with wide, doe eyes. I can’t decide if I want to puke or go across the counter and show her why it’s important to be kind to everyone, not just drop dead gorgeous people of the opposite sex.

  “What was the total again?” he asks tightly as he slides a card across the counter.

  Her eyes widen with shock then fill with jealousy. “What? You…you want to pay for her?” she stutters, throwing me such a venomous look I nearly laugh at her bewildered expression. I wonder if she and Lars have history. Sure feels like it. The thought makes my insides twist suddenly. My hands clench so hard my nails bite into my flesh. I can’t believe it. I’m jealous!

  “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” he says coolly.

  “You know her?” she asks as if she can’t believe.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes,” Lars replies.

  Vicky glares at him in a way that would send chills down a lesser man’s spine. “You’re right. It’s not important to me,” she snarls, as she swipes his card.

  I know that I’m missing something between them, so I take a step back as Lars signs his slip. Silently, he helps me fill the shopping cart with my bags.

  “Say hello to your mother,” he says as he pushes the cart out of the store. I follow closely behind.

  “Well, that was awkward,” I say as soon as we are on the sidewalk

  He spares me an impatient glance.

  “Where is Chance?” I ask, looking around and not seeing his pickup.

  “I sent him back,” he replies shortly.

  “Oh. Why?”

  “Get in,” he orders as we approach his flat-bed truck. “We need to talk.”

  “Do we?” I ask doubtfully.

  Chapter 25

  Cass

  We’ve been kind of avoiding each other since our conversation two days ago. Anyway, Lars has hardly been around at the ranch and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s better that way. We pull ourselves into the truck and sit side by side. Just being in the same space with him is doing things to my insides, and I wring my calloused fingers. They used to be soft, but I’m fine with them being rough, since I prefer my new stronger, firmer body.

  “Take that damned hat off,” he says irritably.

  Confused, I take Chance’s hat off and place in the space between us.

  “What were you doing buying groceries?” he asks. “You have someone who does that for you.”

  I shrug casually. “I needed some personal items.”

  “Chunky monkey ice cream is not a personal item,” he says dryly.

  “Stop, stop, if I laugh any harder I’ll rupture my kidneys,” I retort sarcastically.

  He takes the sales receipt out of his pocket and quickly runs his gaze down it. “You bought three hundred dollars’ worth of junk food, Tamara.”

  “Okay, I might have gone a little overboard, but I deserve it. I’ve had a rough eleven days.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry that the princess had to work for the last eleven days. It must have been such a foreign concept to you.”

  I scowl and turn to face him. “Oh, for God’s sake, change the freaking record. Stop patronizing me all the time. I thought we got past this the last time. I’ve had it up to here,” I wave my hand over my head, “with you. Why am I on your shit list now? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “You put yourself on my shit list by acting like an entitled bitch. Who goes to the grocery store and spends hundreds of dollars on snack food?”

  “I don’t know why you came to my rescue. Let me tell you, I would much rather have put back all the groceries than have to watch the checkout girl fawn all over you or listen to your arrogant crap.”

  “You are wasteful and have no concept of money or hard work,” he snarls.

  My face is flushed and I have trouble finding words to adequately describe how angry and frustrated I am. “I don’t know who you think you are? I can buy myself whatever I please with my own money.”

  He raises his eyebrows.

  “I forgot to take my credit card, but—”

  “—Figures,” he says so knowingly I want to slap his smug face.

  “I’ll make sure to pay you back,” I continue as if he had not said anything. “And while we’re at it, I probably have a better concept of money than you. And another thing. Do not call me a bitch ever again or I’ll tell my father.”

  His eyebrows rise. “Go ahead. Call your father. Tell him,” he challenges.

  He turns that sword back on me. I swallow hard. “I would, but there’s no reception in this damned town.”

  “Right, let me get you back to the ranch where there will be plenty of reception.” He starts the engine and the pickup roars onto the street

  I chew my lip. Oh, hell. What have I gotten myself into now? There’s no way I’m going to be talking to Tamara’s dad. I sit stewing for about ten minutes, until the better part of my anger cools. Surreptitiously, I sneak a look at him. His face is a dark mask of rage. I decide to swallow my pride and sort this out before I end up blowing everything. I clear my throat. “Are we going to keep fighting just because you like the idea of hating me? Because I don’t hate you, and I am trying hard to see your good points. In fact, I was beginning to think you’re a decent person. Apparently, I was wrong.”

  “You know what,” Lars says through clenched teeth, ‘I’ve had enough of this bullshit from you.” Jerking his wheel to the right, he comes to a screeching stop at the side of the road. I place my hand on the dash in front of me to stop myself from banging my head on the windshield. My seatbelt bites into my chest painfully and I wince.

  “What is your problem?” I shout. “You could have gotten us killed.”

  “You think I like the idea of hating you? Why the fuck would you think that?” he asks, voice calmer than before.

  “Is that a serious question?”

  “Humor me.”

  “Because all you ever do is criticize me. I don’t work hard enough. I don’t have any concept of money. I picked the most difficult horse in the barn, which of course, makes me a selfish bitch. It may have escaped your notice that I was sent to the ranch to learn to ride a horse, work, and learn respect, but you aren’t teaching me any of those things. You’re teaching me that I’m just not good enough to do anything except shovel animal dung all day. If not for Emma Jean, I’d still be doing that twelve hours a day, wouldn’t I? So, you tell me, why do you hate me?”

  I’m out of breath by the end of my fiery monologue, and he just stares at me with a weird expression that infuriates me even further. I wrench open the door to his truck and before he can grab my hand, jump outside.

  The midday Montana sun burns my bare shoulders. Even my newly scrubbed scalp protests at being in such heat, but I ignore it and start walking down the road in the direction of the ranch. It will be a long walk—maybe a day if I push myself—but I am not getting back into his truck without a damned good explanation from him.

  “Tamara, get back in here,” he shouts at me.

  “Not in a million years,” I yell back.

  “I don’t hate you at all.”

  In the still hot air, the sound is no more than a whisper, but it stops me dead in my tracks. I turn and face him. He is standing in front of the truck.

  “I don’t hate you,” he repeats louder.

  “Well, in that case, you obviously need to work on your manners.”

  “Tamara,” he begins, and I have a crazy wish that I could hear my name coming from his lips instead of hers. “I wanted to hate you.”

  “I noticed,” I say with a scowl. “You did a really good job, too.”

  “Will you shut up and let me finish? I’m trying to apologize.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you suck at apologies?”
<
br />   He sighs elaborately then continues. “But you’re not what I expected. At first you were someone I couldn’t tolerate, but I realized that wasn’t you. It was a façade, and now that I’ve seen who you really are, I find it hard to believe that you are the person the media tears apart, or the one who wreaks havoc everywhere she goes. You’re down to earth, strong-willed, clever, intuitive with animals, and kind to Emma Jean. I wanted to hate you, but I don’t.”

  I stare into his gray eyes. The sun is burning down on my head and shoulders, but shivers spark up and down my spine. I look at the ground, suddenly unsure of myself. “I wish I hated you too,” I mumble.

  Lars takes a step toward me and pulls my chin up to face him. His face is even more beautiful up close. He has scruff that lines his jaw and wind-tossed black hair curling out from under his hat. His molten eyes pierce mine and I can’t look away. Is he going to kiss me? He looks like he is. How did this go from pure hatred to passion in a split second?

  I feel my body involuntarily leaning toward him, and he pulls my chin further upward until my neck is almost uncomfortable. I arch my back to accommodate his height, close my eyes like the heroine in some romantic drama, and wait.

  And wait.

  His hand loosens around my chin. I open my eyes reluctantly and see him standing with his face centimeters away. “Jesus, Tamara, what the fuck are you doing to me?” he groans. Suddenly, he steps away from me. “Get into the truck.”

  I obey immediately, my legs like jelly.

  What the hell just happened between the two of us.

  Chapter 26

  Cass

  “What do I do, Jesse?” I ask, lying back on my bed and opening the box of Sour Patch Kids that I bought at the grocery store yesterday. This morning, I’ve decided to eat junk food for breakfast.

  She giggles at the other end of the line.

  I scowl. “This isn’t funny. Do you understand the gravity of what’s going on here?”

  “Oh no, I understand all right. It’s pretty straight forward. You’re busy drowning in a puddle.”

  “Thanks, I’m so glad I called you for advice,” I say, popping the candy into my mouth. “Ooh,” I say, scrunching my face at the sourness. It’s been years since I’ve had one and I’ve forgotten how strong they are.

  “He’s not there doing something to you, is he?” Jesse asks.

  “Ha, ha, very funny. I’ve just popped a Sour Patch Kid into my mouth.”

  “I think you should have sex with him. He wants you. You want him. Go for it,” she says. I can hear the smirk in her voice.

  I spit the sour candy onto my hand and swallow a few times. It’s unbelievable how quickly my tongue feels raw and burned. “I can’t just go and have sex with him.”

  “Why not?”

  I look at the ceiling and clear my throat. “Because he’s so…contrary.”

  “Contrary men make for hot sex.”

  I put the candy on a piece of wrapper and survey the rest of the packets of sweets and chocolates. “I hardly know him.”

  “Even better. Stranger sex is the best kind. More sexual tension,” she counters.

  I laugh. “You’re crazy, you know?”

  “Don’t you want a piece of that cowboy?”

  “I don’t know. It’s complicated. I can’t get my head around the idea of sleeping with someone while being someone else.”

  “Treat it as a fling.”

  I lick my fingers. “I can’t do that either.”

  “Why not?”

  “I kinda of like him, Jesse.”

  She pauses. “What? As in like, like?”

  “Yup. He makes me feel things no one else does. Most of the time I want to rip his eyes out, but sometimes…”

  “Here’s the thing. You’re supposed to be Tamara, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say cautiously as I unwrap a Hershey bar.

  “She would be all over him by now, so logically, by sleeping with him you’ll just be staying in character.”

  I bite into the bar. “Be honest with me. Would you sleep with him if you were in my shoes?”

  “I’d freaking throw myself at him,” she gushes immediately.

  “Liar.”

  “I so would,” she insists firmly.

  “Well, I’m not going to throw myself at him and end up getting attached. After this month, I’ll leave and he’ll never see me again. It’s just not worth it.” I’m saddened by admitting such a thing, but these are the hard facts.

  “Are you really going to pass up this opportunity?”

  “You make it sound like this is a once-in-a-lifetime break. We’re talking about sleeping with my boss. As tempting as it may be, I’m not going to do it.”

  “Don’t come crying to me when you’re back here in the suffocating smog and soot and you’re all regretful and sad that you didn’t get naked and ride the cowboy.”

  “Stop being disgusting.”

  “How hot is he, anyway?”

  “You’ve never seen anything like it in Chicago.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Aww…come on. Do it for me,” she urges.

  “No.”

  “Girl, I’m living my life through you. You need to do something worthwhile for once. Just have some spontaneous, passionate sex then act like it never happened. You won’t get attached and neither will he. We all do it.”

  “Jesse, you’re engaged.” I laugh.

  “I lived it up in my glory days,” she defends. “Don’t judge.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Anyway, I have to go and take care of Thunder now. Lars is expecting to meet me in the barns soon.”

  “At least think about it,” she says persuasively.

  “Okay, I will.”

  “That’s my girl. Bye, Cass. Much love.”

  “I love you, Jesse.”

  I end the call, spring to my feet, and gather up all the wrappers from my bed. It’s already quarter past nine and I need to be in the barns by nine-thirty, but I’ve already eaten, showered, dressed, and talked to Jesse.

  I wave goodbye to Emma Jean and make my way down the hill toward the barn. I expect to be alone for a while before Lars joins me, but my expectations are crushed again when I find Butch is waiting inside for me. Does this mean that Lars is planning on blowing me off again? I shudder with barely contained rage and strut into the barn with a scowl.

  Fine, I’ll learn to ride Thunder without him.

  Chapter 27

  Lars

  I stand at the window of my office and watch as Tamara gently strokes Thunder’s head and talks to him in a low voice. He rubs his head affectionately against her. Gently, she leads him to the ring. She has an unexpected and completely natural gift when it comes to animals. I’ve always been a good judge of character, and every fiber of my being tells me that her bitchy façade is a hoax. She’s someone else entirely, but why on earth would she hide her true personality when it is so beautiful and appealing?

  It’s incredible to think that she came here a little under two weeks ago. Feels as if she’s turned the place upside down, and not in the way I imagined either. All the men are fuckin’ half in love with her, and Emma Jean gives me looks blacker than the inside of a cow if I say anything about her that is not a downright glowing compliment.

  I watch her saddle Thunder the way I taught her.

  “Good girl,” I find myself whispering.

  Then she mounts him. Her right leg is clumsy. Automatically, I hold my breath and silently pray that she doesn’t make any sudden moves that spook Thunder. Me praying? That’s a laugh.

  Thunder stays still.

  I sigh with relief when I see the happy grin on her face once she’s seated firmly on top of him. She says something to Butch, but I can’t make the words out. He raises his clenched fist high into the air to signal victory and she laughs. The musical sound wafts over to me.

  I can’t help but slide my gaze down her body. It’s one helluva bod. That small and perky a
ss trapped inside tight jeans, and those breasts. They’re not huge, but they aren’t small by any means. I remember seeing a photograph of her in a magazine a few years ago, and I could’ve sworn they were much bigger. Very much bigger. Maybe she’s had the implants out. What I see now is a sight for sore eyes.

  Round, full, ripe.

  With the tip of her tongue slightly extended, she gives her total concentration to riding Thunder. Watching her becomes my entire world. It’s amazing how a single person can be so damned beautiful. She’s beyond beautiful. It hurts when a nasty voice in my head reminds me that all that buttercup and honey real estate I’m gawking at ain’t for me.

  Her life is in LA.

  She completes a circle and waves to Butch. He does the chicken dance and she laughs joyfully. Their obvious closeness irritates me. My gut burns with possessive fury. As if she’s mine.

  How did a fucking scrawny kid like him get closer to her than me?

  Fuck, I picked him deliberately, knowing that he isn’t exactly popular with women. With jealous, lustful eyes, I watch her stop Thunder next to Butch. The stallion stays calm, even though it is near a man, which surprises me. She has tamed him. She has actually tamed Thunder. She slides off the horse and they hug and dance around like a couple of idiots. I can’t even watch. I turn away and take a deep breath. I remind myself that she was never mine to begin with, which angers me even more.

  Even though I try not to, I can’t help swiveling back to look. To my immense relief, they are no longer joined and are just standing two feet apart talking. I watch her get back on Thunder before I leave the window and exit the room. I know if I stay, I’ll end up doing or saying something I’ll regret later. When I’m around her, I don’t seem to have even the sense God gave a damned goose. I told her that I’d leave her alone from here on out, but I know I can’t honor the agreement.

  I can’t seem to stay away from her.

  As I walk back to my truck, Matt calls me on my cellphone.