WRECKER: A Bad Boy Cowboy Romance (A steamy billionaire romance story)

by Natasha Tanner

  I give the house a quick once-over, tossing any evidence of my budding obsession with Kanen into my room. I hide the rodeo program that has his face on the cover, the flowers he picked for me as we were leaving last night. Even my makeup sitting out from when I got ready for my date. Lacey’s just got that kind of mind that fixates on every single detail that’s out of place, and I’d rather try to make sure she knows only what I want her to know. To be in control. But one glance at the cover of the rodeo program, and I’m already lost. He just looks so incredible, his dark eyes, his dark hair, that black hat shading his scowl. That tattoo that so perfectly brings out the lines of his shoulder, so broad and powerful. The bull that goes across his chest. I’m overcome for a moment and I kiss the page before blushing bright red and tossing the program under my pillow.

  It’s just in time, as the buzzer goes off. I run down the stairs and open the door to Lacey.

  “Here it is, I brought your favorite,” Lacey says, holding up some Barefoot wine. “I’m hoping it’ll work like truth serum.” Her grin is infectious, and I’m suddenly glad she’s shown up.

  “You should be some kind of interrogator,” I laugh. “I can’t keep anything from you, can I?”

  “I hope not!” Lacey grins. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  After two glasses of wine, just as I expected, I open up myself to Lacey and tell her everything. Every detail, and each one seems more shocking to her as I went on. How we went to that special place in the woods by the lake, how we drank champagne but left the steak and potato salad since things progressed, and how he went down on me before we had mind-blowing sex. I finish off telling her that he dropped me off at home.

  “Okay, stop right there,” she says, putting her hand out, palm facing me. “Let me get this straight.” Uh-oh, I think, things don’t sound too good already. “He didn’t even take you out to dinner?” Her eyebrows are coming together in what looks like shock and awe. “He took you to some pond? And you guys fucked, then he didn’t even stay the night?”

  “Well I didn’t see it quite like that,” I say. “I think the place is really special to him? Or something? Plus he brought a beautiful bottle of champagne, and he had dinner made for us.”

  “Yeah, real special.” Lacey sounds pissed. “He got you drunk and banged you at a pond. I don’t know if you realize this, but Kanen has money. He’s not your regular average guy even if he does drive an old beater truck. He can afford to take you out for dinner, and show you a good time. I would expect that he would take you to the nicest restaurant in the city.” She’s scowling. “This is not what I would have expected from him at all, and I think you should be pissed as well. A pond!”

  “But you know that I don’t care about stuff like that.” Oh God. Is she right? I’m starting to wonder. It’s true, I don’t care about those sorts of trappings, but I hope the date doesn’t somehow mean that he thinks less of me.

  “It doesn’t matter if you’re into it or not, he should do it anyway,” Lacey says, reflecting my thoughts. She stands up, warming to the subject. “It’s supposed to show you that he takes you seriously and doesn’t just see you as some kind of hooker. A pump-and-dump!” Her eyes are flashing and she’s waving her wine glass around dangerously.

  “Hooker?” I’m puzzled. “Wait a second, if he spent a lot of money on me for dinner, wouldn’t that make me more of a hooker?”

  She scoffs. “Oh Chastity, you have soooo much to learn.” She’s shaking her head now. “And I have so little time to teach you.”

  “I know I’m not very experienced when it comes to men, but I find it hard to believe that I’m doing everything wrong.”

  I mean, I was married. I didn’t fuck that one up, so why is this so bad? Or did I fuck it up? Jeffrey did say he didn’t love me anymore.

  “Yeah me too—I’m surprised to realize you’re doing everything wrong as well,” she retorts. “Men are pretty simple, Chastity. They don’t chase what they already have. You’re supposed to make a guy wait until he acts like you want him to act, before you reward him with anything. Especially sex. That’s the big one!”

  “But sex isn’t supposed to be some kind of reward,” I say, embarrassed that my mind flew to something else completely when she said “the big one.” “Sex is supposed to be a thing you do together. Something you share!”

  “Yeah, okay, that may be true, but that’s after you’ve been together for a while. If you give it away too early, they never take you seriously.” Lacey takes another sip of wine and looks at me sternly over the glass. She sits down across from me again. “You should count yourself very lucky to have me,” she says. “But it might be too late for this particular bronco.”

  “Too late?”

  “Yeah. Like, has he even gotten in touch with you today?” I don’t want to face the judgment in her eyes, but I have to tell her the truth.

  “Well, no.” Kanen, why haven’t you called? I think. She’s right.

  “Checkmate!” she says. “See? You screwed up big time already, and all because you were too available. You went out with him the very night he asked, he didn’t even take you to a good place, and then you guys did it. On the dirty old ground! Just tell me you didn’t give him a blowjob.”

  “Um, no,” I say, faltering. “I sure didn’t.” To me it had all seemed really romantic, having sex out there in the wilderness. By a lake. With champagne. And he went down on me. I didn’t think of it as just “fucking on the ground.”

  “You’re sure?” she says. I think she’s lost all respect for me. And maybe Kanen has too.

  “I’m sure,” I say. This is dismal. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I should have hung out with you last night instead of him.” Dammit. Why did I go out with him? Why didn’t I listen to Lacey? Why did I listen to myself? All I wanted to do last night was hang out in front of the tube and get my ice cream on.

  “Of course you should have,” she says, magnanimously. “Maybe things are different where you’re from, but down in Texas the boys all want one thing. And if you give it to them right away, that’s all they’ll ever want.” She nods to herself, her eyes faraway.

  “Really?” I ask.

  Maybe it’s true. Maybe Texas is completely different. Well, not completely. I think the guys up in Canada were always pretty crazy into sex too. I just never gave it to any of them—except for Jeffrey. And I didn’t rush into it with him either, but I know now that that was because I wasn’t all that physically attracted to him. Maybe Lacey’s right. Maybe things are the same all over. And I’ve just completely screwed up. Dammit.

  “Well, now we’re going to need to strategize,” Lacey says. “Very first thing is you don’t get in touch with him,” she says. “No texts, no phone calls, don’t try to run into him somewhere, and if he shows up at the restaurant, I’ll serve him.”

  “Even if he shows up at the restaurant?” I say. “That’s hardcore, Lace. And also, I should tell you, I was thinking of quitting.”

  She smacks herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. “Oh, Chastity, you are one hot mess.”

  I take a lonely sip of my wine, and stare off into space. Maybe she’s right. My new life seems more hopeless than the one I left in garbage bags up north.

  “Aww. Don’t look so glum, chum,” she says, finally relenting. “If it’s salvageable, we’ll save it. How much of a relationship can you have with a guy called ‘the Wrecker,’ anyway? And if we can’t fix it, then we’ll figure out a way for you to meet other dudes.”

  I can hardly believe it, but when she says that, my heart drops into my chest. It’s a quick and sudden pain, but it hurts almost more than the ache of losing Jeffrey. With Jeffrey, it was the life we built together that I was going to miss, and he was obviously a big part of that. With Kanen, it’s the chance for real happiness that I’m losing.

  Nineteen

  Kanen

  I drive by Chastity’s restaurant on the way home from the center. I mean to stop, maybe get some lunch, see if she wan
ts to chat. Part of me does, anyhow. Even if I don’t even know for sure if she’s working today. But when the time comes to hit the signal, and to make the turn, I just... don’t. I keep going. I head back to my place, the property I cleared mostly with my own two hands.

  After Mama died, and the money started to roll in, I decided to move away from all the pain that had been seeping into my life since I was born. I didn’t sell her property, because then I wouldn’t retain the rights to the oil if I did. Instead I bought a large new piece of land out of the city, one with a nice lake on it. There are a couple reasons I didn’t tell Chastity that it was my lake I brought her to. For one, it just seems like such a douchey thing to say. “Hey, girl, do you like my lake?”

  I sigh. How can someone own a lake, anyway? Why the land only belongs to some of us never has made much sense to me. I guess that’s one way that I get along with the old values. People oughta share the land. Nobody can really own it. But when that changed in this country, it was like a war was going on. And now I still fight that old war, both inside myself, and outwardly, albeit in my own small way. I buy up land, and I make sure that the people who need it, have it. Like the land under the center for those kids, and the new one that’s going to go up in the Pacific northwest. The other reason I didn’t tell her is because I don’t want her to think I’m just a pile of money, a windfall, in the same way that I was seen as just trailer trash as a kid.

  That’s why the house I live in, while not exactly modest, is a bit strange for me to have. I made more a few concessions to luxury, sure. I need to have a location I can meet with investors from in and out of the country, so there is a beautiful guest house. The main house is pretty darn big for one man, and there’s an onsite meeting room with a pool. But when it’s just me, I prefer to strip down to the buff and take a dip in the clear lake water than jump in some pool that does its best to look like rocky lake and shoreline, but in reality is just a chlorinated, bleached pretense. I might not be your typical man with money, however. Most of them don’t sleep under the stars whenever they can.

  Ah well. Such is my life. Making the inner man and the outer man meet is my continual struggle.

  It’s lonely sometimes. I wonder if Chastity likes skinny dipping? The mental vision of her sweet body, her perfect breasts, her ass, and that unbelievable pussy makes me forget to hit the gas when the light turns green, until an impatient honk sounds behind me.

  Before long, I find myself checking the rear view, pumping the brakes and turning the car around. Maybe Chastity is working today, and I am feeling a little peckish. I could use some lunch.

  A man’s gotta eat, after all.

  Twenty

  Chastity

  Lacey comes running toward me. I’m doing my best to wedge on these high heels—the ones I bought under duress to see if I could make it through a few more days of waitressing.

  “Oh my God, Chastity,” she says, grabbing my arm with two hands, “you’ll never guess whose truck just pulled into the parking lot!”

  I look at her wearily. “You don’t think so? I’ll bet I’ve got a pretty good idea, since you’re this excited.”

  That’s the last thing I need to see today, Wrecker’s old yellow truck. I hardly slept last night after Lacey came over to berate me about my failings with men. I was too busy crying. Now I’m trying to repair the damage to my puffy eyes with some black eyeliner, but I don’t think it’s working. I just look like a very tired raccoon jacked up in heels.

  “Yeah, well, you just might be right. Now remember what I said, you don’t serve him!” She looks at me sternly. “I’ll serve him.”

  “I’m too tired to argue, Lacey, whatever you think is fine.”

  I’m not only tired, but I think I left all my hope at that lake Kanen took me to. The beautiful glowing lake that Lacey called a pond. For a moment there, for the briefest stretch of time when we were together, I’d thought that things were going to work out just fine between Kanen and me, and that we would be able to have something real. But after Lacey convinced me how men work, and showed me just how stupid all my decisions really were, it’s plain that it’s all just a pipe dream. Kanen’s no different than the others. What we have—no, had—(“I loved you,” said Jeffrey, not “I love you”) was just for that one moment.

  “Okay.” She looks at me critically. “But listen to me now. This is a good sign, Chastity, he came back. Now don’t fuck it up again.”

  I’m not really sure what she means by that, as I hadn’t known I was fucking it up the first time, but whatever. She seems to be some kind of expert, though I have no clue what to do anymore.

  When I get out on the floor, the manager gives me the table right beside Kanen’s. Great. Now Lacey’s serving Kanen and I’m serving the guy beside him. So I can’t avoid him, but I’m not supposed to pay attention to him either. How’s that supposed to work out? I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.

  I can feel his eyes on me as I wobble around in these heels. Of course, I sneak looks at him too, and have to admire the way his shoulders look in the T-shirt stretched over their powerful breadth. The tattoos that are just showing at the edges of the fabric remind me of the way he looked as he hovered over me, his body glistening with sweat in the evening sun, and how it felt when he was thrusting into me. God help me, I blush, and from under his cowboy hat, Kanen smiles like he can read my mind. I can feel a big grin growing on my face, but I try to straighten it into a more serious, respectable, less-available expression, thinking of how Lacey would react. I turn my head away and break the flow of energy, and try to focus on the job at hand.

  “Welcome to Frizbees,” I say to the man at the table beside Kanen. “I’m Chastity, may I take your order?”

  “Sure, I’ve been waiting for about twenty minutes. I’d like it if somebody did,” the man snaps angrily.

  “I sure am sorry about that,” I say, taken aback. I try to sound the most Texan and the least Canadian as I can manage. “What would you like, sir?”

  “Well, could you bring me a flipping menu?” he demands. “You expect me just to have the thing memorized?”

  “Sorry, sir,” I falter. “Right away.” Shit.

  I look sheepishly at Kanen as I turn to go to the hostess stand. Crap. She should have given him a menu. It’s not my fault that he was left alone. I don’t think.

  “Take mine,” Kanen offers the man, holding out the laminated, brightly-colored menu. “I’ve pretty much got it memorized.”

  “I don’t need your shitty menu,” snaps the man. Then he says something I don’t catch under his breath.

  “It’s okay, Kanen, I’ll get him a new one,” I quickly say, a little worried. I don’t want anything bad to happen that I can prevent. Kanen’s eyes are as dark and dangerous as his tattoos.

  Lacey comes up quick. “Here’s your beer, sir,” she says to Kanen. She winks at him as she sets it down. It’s not flirtatious; she’d never betray me. I think she’s just trying to lighten the moment.

  “Why I can’t have that waitress, I don’t know,” my customer says loudly. “Just came in, and already has a beer and even a menu! It’s like...some kind of goddamn miracle!” He sticks his hands out like he’s talking to the whole restaurant, or an imaginary person interviewing him, and people are starting to look. This is getting more embarrassing by the minute.

  I quickly put a menu down in front of him. “And did you want something to drink as well?” I ask. Shit, my first real customer after training day and he’s a doozy.

  “Well what do you think? Damn right I do. I’ll take a draft,” he says. “A good American brand,” he says, shooting a look at Kanen, who glowers back menacingly. That seems like a weird comment, but I don’t want to ask what it means.

  I hurry over as fast as I can go on these heels, which is to say, not fast at all. It’s only been ten minutes that I’ve had them on and already my feet are screaming for mercy. The bartender looks at me as she pours the drink. “Be careful with that guy
, Chas,” she says.

  “Who, the Wrecker?” I ask, almost out of habit. Do I really need someone else to warn me off of Kanen?

  “No, you dummy,” she retorts, not unkindly. “That customer. Your table. He’s a douchebag, but he spends a lot of money here and he’s friends with the owners. If he doesn’t like you, it doesn’t bode well for your job.”

  “Then why didn’t anyone bring him a menu?” I despair, taking the frosty beverage from her hand.

  “I dunno, I was with customers, and I don’t have time to watch everything besides my bar. But whatever happens, you’re his server, so just be on your game.” Her pale eyes behind the layers of makeup are no-nonsense. “I’m telling you this for your own good.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I say, but not very convincingly, I’m sure.

  I start to totter back to the table, a death grip on the beer. My only hope is not to spill this damn thing like I did yesterday. “Steady, steady,” I tell myself. When I get to the table, I go to set it down when I feel something kick me from under the table. It’s the man’s cowboy booted toe, and I can’t tell if it’s on purpose. My hand flies out to steady myself and the beer goes down all over the table. “Shit!” I say.

  The customer jumps up, looks down at his pants which now look as if he’s peed himself. “You fucking moron!” He yells, his face red. “What the fuck are you doing? Where’s Jim?” he demands.

  Jim is the owner, who I haven’t met yet. The one that the bartender was telling me about. I’m mortified. I don’t want Kanen to see me like this, and I don’t want to be treated like this, but I feel somehow I deserve it. It’s true. The second beer down in two days. I am a terrible waitress.