“I don’t want you to take on another large account. This account is as big as the Circle C, and then you have Da’s account, which is almost as big. You need to call him and decline.”
“Quinn, I have already signed with Martin Spencer, and I needed one more large account or two medium ones or—”
“I get the picture.” Quinn interrupted dryly. “Why do you need more?”
“This is so much easier than four small ones, and I want to maintain a certain level of profitability. This account ensures that. Why does it bother you?” Cheyenne began bringing salad ingredients out of the refrigerator.
“Because you’ll be too busy to have much free time and I don’t want you stressed out. We’ve purchased the land for the club and have started the incorporated status. After that comes the architect planning stage on Edgewood. We should have designs ready for approval in the next month or so. We need you to keep the books for the business and, of course, we expected you to continue after we open. You won’t be able to do that if you already have a full plate. What about the Bhaile Haven?” Quinn asked with just a hint of accusation.
Well, except she did the bookkeeping for Jocelyn as charity work. Her sister-in-law ran the shelter for battered and exploited women with children called Bhaile Haven also known as Haven House. That was a labor of love on Cheyenne’s part, and she counted all of her work for the safe house as a tax deduction. It was a perfect win-win. Quinlan knew that. Something else was bothering him.
“Quinn, you know that is charity work.”
She stopped wiping the workspace as he opened the refrigerator for iced tea. Cheyenne leaned back against the counter, crossed her arms and tried to consider her husband’s thinking. She was easily handling the two large and two small accounts that she had now. She had already built the books for Edgewood, the new, private, BDSM club that they and a group of their friends had collaborated in making a reality.
Adding Spencer as a client would give her the same income she had before moving to Montana and with less diversity of need. However, she knew, to Quinn, who didn’t completely understand why she wanted to work or felt she needed to work, it was too much.
She looked up into his face and dove in. “First, the shelter and Edgewood are labors of love. At least Bhaile Haven is. Edgewood will be in exchange for the membership dues. Quinn, I know to you it sounds like a lot but for me, it really isn’t. I’ll make the same amount of money as before we married but with one-third the accounts. Really, it will be so much easier after I set things up. It will be less work in the long haul.” She reached up on tiptoes to kiss his lips before turning around. “You didn’t tell them I was your wife. I mean that Cheyenne Sterling is your wife, right? Remember we agreed I could keep my name on my business.”
Quinn leaned down and kissed her hard. “No, but don’t think that it will be like that for long. You might keep your name for business, but people will figure out before long that Cheyenne Sterling and Cheyenne O’Connor is the same person. You aren’t keeping the Spencer Spread as a client. Call him up and tell him.” He turned to wash his hands.
“Duly noted but I’m going to take on that account.” She began chopping the salad ingredients with a heavy hand.
He wiped his hands then reached over to stay her movements. “Cheyenne, is this going to be one of those times that I have to put my foot down?”
She sighed. “Quinlan, this is my business. You agreed I had full reign over my business.” She slipped out of his hold and whacked the tip off of a carrot with concentrated intent.
Quinn reached over and took the knife. “I’m going to watch carefully, and if you begin to show signs of stress, we will have another discussion. I’m not happy that you’ve decided to go against me.”
Cheyenne backed away from the counter. Huffing in irritation, she turned to look at her husband and rolled her eyes, making another aggravated sound.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” She chose not to answer him but turned abruptly back to the salad reaching again for the knife he had put on the cutting board.
Leaning over her back, pinning her to the counter, he placed his mouth near her ear. “Did you also turn away from me?” He shook his head. “I think someone needs a refresher on how to be respectful to her dom, piscín.”
“No,” she said breathily as she dropped her head then leaned it back against her husband’s firm chest.
Her pulse that had stayed calm as they discussed the new client was suddenly thumping wildly. His lowered voice and physical nearness were kicking up her pussy response without regard for her mental disagreement. She forced herself to straighten.
“I’m just cooking your dinner while I try to work out the structure of my new account and placate my husband. I need to work to feel productive. This does it for me.” Her breathing became more labored, but her anger was also a companion emotion. She never considered that he would use her libido against her.
“Placate?” He caressed her well-covered breasts.
Sucking in a deep breath, holding it and blowing it out gave her more lucidity. She tried to push back, but he would not allow it. She tried another approach, offense.
“Suddenly, I need to defend my right to own a business. One that I had, I might point out, long before I had you. Now, either finish your own dinner or leave me to it.”
She picked up steam vocally as she issued the ultimatum and waited for his response. The threat, however, was made less intimidating with him pinning her to the counter and her body on fire.
He stepped back and slid his hand up the skirt she had worn to sign her contract earlier in the day. She felt the pressure of his less dominant hand on her back. He caressed her backside. She wanted to moan. She wanted to say the hell with it all and play with her sexy husband. Cheyenne felt a shiver just before Quinlan slapped his right hand down hard.
“Ow.” She screeched and stamped her foot. “Yellow, sir. You can’t spank me because I don’t agree with you.”
He leaned down into her ear, “Well played, Piscín. Now I want some recreation tonight. After dinner is over, go take a shower and meet me downstairs. I have a new flogger to try, and if you’re good, I might even give you a good girl spanking.” He shrugged. “If you aren’t, I can do the naughty girl one just as well.” He kissed the tender spot behind her ear and left to shower before dinner. She was already hot for that man. She needed relief and now it was all she could think of. Damn it. He had turned the tables on her.
Cheyenne smiled. She knew the bratting would divert him from his goal of dictating the way she ran her business and dominating excited him. He loved it when she played at the brat. She also knew that when he was excited, she would be excited as well, but she nearly overplayed her hand. She was practically desperate for him now. Yes, she had to agree with Quinn, it was well played and tonight she would frolic with her man and forget he was still opposed to her new account. She hoped he would forget, as well.
It took about two weeks to learn the way the state had created the books for Haven House and to get the first round of reports done. Therefore, when she was ready to take on the third large client, she was prepared for it to take some time to put things in order.
Martin Spencer’s ranch had several smaller companies under its umbrella so she allotted the same intense setup time as the Circle C. Probably three intense weeks or a month if she did it at a lesser pace. Filled with excitement for a new project, she dug in.
Double S, §, was the brand icon for Spencer’s Spread and all of its holdings. It was really a nice logo, she thought in passing, but it rather looked like SOS. She hoped that wasn’t an omen. As with all of Cheyenne’s projects, she hit the ground running, calculator in hand. Martin Spencer was the Owner/Operator of the major enterprise and all its holdings. The ranch was his home, and he was the originator of the medium sized but very profitable corporation it had now become.
The smaller businesses like the cattle, etc., were handled as the ones at the Circle C. Cheyen
ne discussed needing to move the accounting methods over at the end of the fiscal year for the Double S, and that would take some long hours. Quinlan was not as accepting about that as she had hoped, but at least he was tolerant. She liked making her own money and keeping the business that her father had started a success. It was important to her.
***
Quinn listened to Cheyenne talking about the new client she had taken on then joined Liam and Ciarán as the conversation diverted to discussing their own ranch. They were in the beginning stages of moving their older, more antiquated accounting system to the more automated and updated method. Cheyenne warned it would mean recreating some ledger changes, and that would take more time.
“What you’re trying to tell me is that you’re going to be even more underfoot in my office than you are already,” Liam said dryly.
“As if you are ever in the ranch offices,” she retorted as she shook her head and looked to the heavens.
“Was that a roll of the eyes, sister?” asked Liam.
“No,” she answered quickly. “I was looking heavenward for divine intervention.”
The men laughed. “Okay, so what do you need from us?” Quinn watched his wife become animated and listened as she outlined the final stages for the family Montana ranch. The final groundwork at the Circle C was nearly done. She had this one last big project before it all ran smoothly.
“The work on my new account,” Cheyenne shared, “has just begun. That would be the harder setup,” She went on, “The owner, Martin Spencer, doesn’t seem to have done any major monitoring of the books for years. I mean, he looked at the reports, but that’s it. I think his wife always did it.”
“We usually look at the reports,” offered Ciarán.
“Yes, after you memorized the numbers behind the reports. You men are anal about running your place. You’re almost micromanagers.”
Ciarán looked over at Quinn with a mock sternness, “Are you going to let your wife talk to us that way?”
“Unfortunately, she’s right. However, I could offer to intervene as an investor. You know, offer to help her learn an alternate form of communication if you like.”
“Oh, good, I have some methods that might—”
“Stop it! Anois! You’re all behaving like hormonal teenagers.” Cheyenne’s frustration and amusement were both evident.
Liam smiled. “Okay, sis, what do you need from us?”
She asked her questions. It helped that Ciarán had added the breeding kennels to the Circle C last year. They listened as he reminisced about how much time, energy and effort went into getting the information right on paper at first but then, not only his breeding schedule but also projections, and cost analysis ran smoothly.
“And now, you get to do all of that for us, sis.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“I hope you’re right, and Cheyenne’s part will be as easy for this new client.”
“You forget that the difference is I know what I’m doing.” She grinned at Ciarán. “Nevertheless, no matter how hard it is, I have the right to do this business as I see fit, and I’m keeping this account.”
***
Still not happy about his wife taking on such a large account, Quinn told himself he would not interfere so long as she didn’t overwork. Quinn found himself biting his tongue a lot these days and trying to stay out of Cheyenne’s professional realm altogether, but keeping quiet didn’t always seem like the right way to go when dealing with Cheyenne. He kept his own counsel on how much time she was spending in the accounting business now. He’d give her the requisite month to do her groundwork. It was going to be a long month.
Quinn usually worked the Circle C on his days off. He also helped when they needed him. He had taken on the safety and security of the property. It was spring, and the place was busy. He had his own hands full walking the entire perimeter of the ranch and its holdings, which took his mind off other areas of his life.
He needed to ride or walk the perimeter before upgrading security maintenance protocols based on what was working now and what they needed to beef up. Besides brute strength, like his brothers, Quinn’s métier in law enforcement taught him how to logically look at a problem and figure the solution. He liked that he was using his profession to help his brothers’ business. He had stock and invested in the ranch, but they all knew he would never be a rancher full time. Protection of the assets and security for the ranch was his contribution and filled a need no one else could fill quite as well.
Cheyenne was incredible with numbers, problem solving and pulling out those little-known tax savers that kept her customers happy to have her as their accountant. Fortunately or unfortunately, it was the end of year tax time again. Cheyenne loved taxes. He smiled at the oddity of his wife at times. He also knew it was his cue to tighten the time management reins as they had gone through this before. He was not going to have her lose herself again at the end of the calendar year. Not for the first time, he mourned the lack of access to a club to help destress his lady, but he hoped he could remedy that soon. At least they had their personal basement, and she had her soft rock radio station that calmed her.
Edgewood would soon become incorporated and officially need her services. No taxes for that endeavor, this year at least. There were still federal taxes to get through in a few months. It seemed never ending to Quinn. Soon their first anniversary would be upon them. By now, he expected to have more control in their world such as he needed to pull Cheyenne in more effectively when she was over stressed. She obviously had other ideas. He loved her so much it was hard to stop her from doing something she obviously enjoyed. Still, he expected to have more control.
After a delicious and relaxing dinner, when Cheyenne had sat in the office to begin work, he broached the subject of overextending herself again.
“Cheyenne, I think it’s time to put work boundaries around you so you survive this time of the year better than the last two years. Don’t you agree?”
He couldn’t believe how lucky he was that Cheyenne had married him. Just looking at that gorgeous body working so diligently on her books was just hot. Her lacy tank top over tiny jeans made his cock sit up and take notice every time. Her brain and her concentration were hot.
“Boundaries? Don’t be ridiculous,” she said disparagingly and looked back at her paperwork.
He put his hand on her paper. “Sorry, bad choices of words, but you do need to have a set boundary so you don’t work all the time. If this is a job, then make a schedule.”
She leaned back in her seat pushing the wheeled chair away from the desk. “It is a job, but it’s my business. It’s like ranching, you might make a schedule, but it doesn’t mean you’ll be able to keep it.” She crossed her arms and looked up at Quinn.
He walked over to pull the other desk chair closer to her and sat down as she continued to speak.
“Look, I knew if I found more new clients it would put things off base so I prepped my current accounts already.”
Quinn would not be put off. “You’ve more on your plate this year with the new account, and there was already a lot to do in previous years.”
“But things have changed. This is all different. I have created a better format. I’ll be fine. You forget I have fewer clients, so less work. The new account will be the challenge because they aren’t ready yet. Besides, I don’t ever tell you that a special assignment or working a forest fire is too much for you. I sigh, pout, roll my eyes and let you go. I’m expecting the same acceptance from you. It’s a balancing act sometimes, but we’re going to figure it out. We always do.” Her face and voice earnestly entreated him, and he knew he was overreacting, a little.
“Are you sure you want to take on this much work, a stór? Seems like an awful lot for one person. Remember, you had help before,” Quinn stated as he leaned over from the chair that had inched closer and cupped her cheek, rubbing her soft skin with his thumb in an attempt to distract her. “Especially when you don’t need to work at
all. I make plenty of money and would be happy to support us.” He leaned in to kiss just below her ear and trailed kisses along her jawline.
“Quinn, stop kissing me. You’re trying to make me do what you want and are putting roadblocks in my way. I need to work on this report. Besides, that’s not fair. You know I like to work, so quit. Leave me to do it. I mean it.” She pushed him away.
“Is that how you are going to ask me?” Quinn deepened his voice to a grumble, showing some surprise at her irritation.
“Working here!” Cheyenne’s look was one that said, back off, but more in a distracted, exasperated way rather than angry. “Please?” she begged. He leaned in and took her lips, kissing them aggressively with possession. She moaned. He pulled back, and then took a quick kiss before rolling his chair back a foot.
Quinn laughed. “All right, I get that you need your space for a bit, but…” he added with steel reinforcing his words, “You need to be finished for the night when I come back from the dog kennels and the stables. I offered to work and train with a rescue dog and need to observe them so Ciarán and I have something to talk about tomorrow. I want to pick out a good mount for rescue too, to work them together.” Quinn continued as though his wife was listening, “I think I’ll pick one out for you, too.”
“Uh, huh.”
“With unicorn parents.”
“Uh, huh.”
“A sway backed nag should be perfect.”
“I said okay.”
“One that spreads fairy dust.”
Cheyenne did not respond. He reached over to set the timer for one hour and chuckled as he shook his head and strolled out of the office. He was positive she didn’t even realize he’d left until he came in to see why she hadn’t come up when the alarm went off. Her look of surprise told everything. Her time was up. He wouldn’t care occasionally but Cheyenne was one of those people who needed a full seven or eight hours sleep, and if she didn’t get the sleep, no one was happy. He smiled to himself. He would do what was best for her and insist on a good night’s sleep even over her protests. He reached over and turned off the music.
Her Balancing Act: Quinlan O'Connor Book 3 Page 3
