Point of Submission (Point Series Book 1)

by Remy Rose

  Using my pitchfork, I pull the remaining bedding in Brownie's stall to the center and go to get two bags of shavings out of storage. Ingrid always insists on deep bedding for all the horses. It’s pretty much cushier than my own mattress. But Brownie deserves it, after being worked hard getting ready for the Devon show. I was so glad I got to ride him earlier for a fifteen-minute warmup before Ingrid took over—he'd been a bit spooky but settled down fine.

  So. I’m wondering what the CEO of Miller Valve is doing right now. Could our lives be any more different? Mine—wheelbarrows and serving trays, and Carlo’s—stiff shirts and business meetings. But I’ve seen him in casual mode, too, and he looks natural and relaxed in a t-shirt and shorts. Not to mention gorgeous.

  As I’m pushing the wheelbarrow to the next stall, I hear the strumming guitar ring tone of my iPhone. My heart flutters. Carlo?

  I fumble in my pocket for my phone. It’s Teal. I won’t be able to talk long, but I’ll answer. “Hey.”

  “Hey, girlfriend. What're you doing?”

  “Shoveling shit.”

  “Hashtag magical.”

  “Oh, it is. How about you?”

  “Driving to campus. Starbucks gave me the wrong drink and the wrong size, and now I'm feeling all murdery.”

  “Hashtag annoying. What are you going to campus for?”

  “I need to meet with my advisor to finalize my schedule.” A pause. “I really wish you were going back this fall, Cass.”

  “Well, that's not going to happen. Can't afford it.”

  “I hope you can someday.”

  “Yeah, me too. So what's up?”

  “I was just calling to see if you'd heard from your man.”

  “Um, no. I don't have a man.”

  Teal sighs in annoyance.“Carlo?”

  “I haven't heard from him.”

  “When do you think you'll see him again?”

  “I don't know. I'm not even sure I will.”

  “Of course you will. It's obvious you have some...um, unfinished business.”

  “The sex?”

  “Yes. You know, I was thinking that it's really kind of sweet, in a weird way, that he stopped in the middle of things the way he did. Most guys would have just kept going, even if they knew it wasn't right for the girl.”

  “I guess I'd agree with that. But I would have stopped him, anyway, before it went too much further.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I would have! I told you, I'm not ready.” I tilt my head to cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder so my hands are free to hold the pitchfork.

  Teal is undeterred. “And aside from the sex, you also need to get to know him. See if he could possibly be the one.”

  “The one?” I snort. “I've kind of given up on that. I think my track record with guys speaks for itself.”

  “You do realize it's a reflection of them, not you? And that you deserve so much better than what you've had?”

  Just like my mother, who was not only cheated on but used, too: while her dickhead husband was out screwing around, she was still expected to be the dutiful wife—to cook and clean and wash his clothes.

  I feel my mood begin to darken. No. I am not going to waste any fucking time on a poor excuse for a father and husband. “Hey, I'm going to have to go. It's hard being on the phone and trying to shovel one-handed.”

  “Okay. I hope you hear from Carlo soon. And I hope you make plans with him. Just don't give up before it's even had a chance to start. And stop taking yourself so seriously. Have some fun in your life, for Christ's sake. Love you!”

  I end the call and slip the phone back in my pocket. If—and this is a big if—I go with Teal's advice and make plans with Carlo (assuming he'll call), then I’ll just have to be on my guard. Maybe I can somehow find a way to just have fun being with him and keep everything light while still protecting myself.

  And how’s this for a light bulb moment: maybe these experiences in my life can be looked upon as making me strong, not weak.

  You deserve so much better than what you've had.

  I do believe that.

  Just as I start to bring in the horses, my phone vibrates. A text, from Carlo.

  Meeting running late. Can I call you after?

  I don’t hesitate to respond.

  Yes. Smiling, I add, I'd like that.

  chapter twenty ~ Carlo

  Gianna’s looking tanned and happy, back from her two week vacation in Maine. Very much like a teenage girl, her dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail. We’re eating early at Massimo's, a classy but casual restaurant with authentic Italian cuisine and great décor. An early dinner works for me, since Cassandra and I are going out for drinks later.

  Prying open a mussel from our Zuppa di Cozze appetizer, Gi gives a contented sigh. “Ohh, I love this place, Carlo. One of Mama's favorites.”

  “Mine, too.” I raise my wine glass. “To our sweet and wonderful mother.”

  Gi’s eyes are glistening as she touches her glass to mine. “To Mama.”

  I swallow the thickness in my throat. “So. How was Maine?”

  “Beautiful, as usual. We had great weather—like one day of rain, which was fine because I wanted to shop in Bar Harbor anyway. It was so nice to be able to just relax...lay on the beach and go out on the boat. And have lots of sex.” She winks.

  “Gianna. Behave. Did you have the mechanic check out the boat engine?”

  “Yup. It's running great now.”

  “The house need any maintenance? I could call Charlie.”

  “None that I noticed. There was a loose screen in the sunroom, but Jordan fixed it.” She frowns at me. “I wish you'd taken some time to go up there this summer.”

  “Too much to do here. I'm working on a new product release.”

  “Here's where I'm supposed to ask what it is, even though I really don't care.”

  I grin. “I couldn't tell you anyway. Top secret. For all I know, you could be a corporate spy.”

  Gianna shakes her head, laughing. The waiter appears with our dinners: Rigatoni for me, and Penne Salmone for Gi, who enthusiastically digs in. I’ve got to hide my smile; my younger sister appreciates food as much as Cassandra does.

  “New product or not, you work too hard, fratello.”

  “It's what I do, sorella.”

  “I still wish you'd make time for other things.”

  “Moving on.”

  Gianna sighs. “Oh, all right. But I'm not giving up. At least say you'll meet Jordan and me for drinks later. You haven't seen him in a while.”

  “Sorry. Meeting with a prospective new end user. That work thing again.”

  “Grrr...I was really hoping you could. Jordan would have been here for dinner, but he’s doing a twilight engagement photo shoot.” She puts her fork down, her eyes shining. “And speaking of engagement...I have some news to share, but I can't believe you didn't notice.”

  “Notice what?”

  Gianna holds her left hand over the table. There’s a pear-shaped diamond solitaire on her ring finger, modest in size but sparkling and tasteful. Oh, fuck. I’m not ready for this.

  “Jesus, Gianna...you didn't.”

  She’s beaming. “Yes, we did. He proposed to me during our vacation. It was so romantic, with the sun setting on the water...we wanted to celebrate with you later tonight.”

  I’ve got my reservations, but I can’t ignore that my sister looks absolutely radiant. Jordan’s a good man, and even though I think they’re rushing things, I’ll be supportive. I reach across the table to squeeze her hand. “I'm a little surprised, but I'm very happy for you. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. I know you think this is a bit soon, but honestly, it's one of those things where you just know. And when you know who you want to share your life with, you don't want to wait any longer.” Her eyes are soft and shining. “I want that for you, too, Carlo.”

  “I'm really happy for both of you, Gi. Please pass that along to Jordan until I can tell
him in person. I'm sorry I can't meet you tonight.”

  Gianna studies me solemnly and sighs. “Me too.”

  Cue the pang of guilt. I’ve disappointed her, and she doesn’t deserve this. I’ll do something to make it up to her. “I'd like to throw you an engagement party.”

  “Oh, Carlo! That's very sweet, but you don't need to.”

  “I want to. I wouldn't offer if I didn't. We'll have to pick a date—you and Jordan can let me know what works for you.”

  “All right. Thank you—that will be awesome.”

  We split an order of tiramisu for dessert and are just finishing it when I get a text from Cassandra. Allison offered to stay late so I'm getting out a little early. Where do you want to meet? Needs to be casual since I didn't bring my formal attire.

  I grin as I text back. OK on the casual. Bull Feeney's in 15?

  See you there.

  “Texting with your, um, prospective end user?” Gianna’s looking at me with one eyebrow lifted.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “While smiling. Interesting.”

  “He's a funny guy. And he'd like to meet me a bit earlier, so I'll settle up the bill and we'll get out of here.”

  “Okay. Thank you so much for dinner. And the offer of the engagement party. Maybe,” she says, her eyes large and innocent, “you could invite your prospective end user.”

  “And maybe you need to leave well enough alone.”

  Gianna laughs. “I think you know me better than that.”

  I pay the bill and hug her goodbye. Bull Feeney's is an Irish pub, about a mile away. I don’t plan on being there long. Got to have some alone time with Cassandra and keep things moving forward, because Brock is probably going to progress quickly.

  And because I just want some alone time with Cassandra.

  I get to the pub before Cassandra and grab a spot at the end of one of the trestle tables, away from the bar. Bull Feeney’s isn’t what you’d call a private setting, but it has a noisy, friendly atmosphere—the kind of place to put you in a happy and relaxed state of mind.

  Which is where I need my date to be.

  A waitress brings a bowl of popcorn and a cocktail napkin. There’s a college-age couple seated next to me—a guy wearing glasses sitting beside me, and a pretty blonde across the table who meets my gaze and looks away, blushing. Her date notices this and clears his throat.

  I hide my smile and scan the rest of the pub. The possibility of Gianna and her now-fiancé showing up suddenly occurs to me—they like this place. I know Gi suspects I’m meeting a woman, so it wouldn't be a total surprise, but still...I’d rather not be peppered with the inevitable questions later.

  From out of the corner of my eye, I see the pub's heavy doors open. It’s Cassandra, wearing a white, off-the-shoulder, peasant-style blouse and faded jeans—and looking hotter than hell. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail so you can see bare neck and shoulders. She’s got her chin raised in her trademark attempt at self-confidence, but with her small stature and that sweet, fresh face, she looks like a young teenager trying to act ten years older.

  Christ, do I want her.

  She’s looking around the bar, pulling the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. I wait to signal to her, just so I can keep looking, when she sees me. Her expression changes from looking a little stressed to flushed pleasure, and seeing this touches something deep inside me that’s both surprising and hard to explain.

  She sits down across from me, dropping her purse on the floor. The blonde girl next to her shifts a little, looking irritated. Jealous, most likely, and it’s easy to see why—Cassandra is clearly the most beautiful girl in this bar—even when she’s narrowing her eyes and trying to look pissed off, like now.

  “You saw me come in, didn't you?”

  “I did.”

  “And you just let me stand there.”

  “Basically, yes. Just for a minute. I had good reason.”

  “Which is...”

  “I wanted to look at you.”

  She blushes, rolling her eyes, and takes a handful of popcorn. “I'm starving. Are you getting anything to eat?”

  “I had dinner with my sister, so...no. But feel free to order something. I know how much you enjoy food.”

  She opens her mouth to retort, and I’m laughing when the waitress comes over. “I’m so sorry for the wait.”

  Cassandra is quick to relieve her stress. “Absolutely no problem—it's really busy in here tonight.”

  The waitress gives her an appreciative smile. “It's been crazy. Can I start you off with some drinks?”

  Cassandra skims the menu. “Smithwicks, please. A pint.”

  “And I'll have a tall Yuengling.” I pause until the waitress leaves. “So, are all wait staff members in some sort of secret club? The two of you seemed to have a mutual understanding.”

  “Sorry, I'm not allowed to divulge any information.” Her eyes sparkle mischievously as she reaches for more popcorn.

  I study her blouse, which has tiny blue flowers embroidered down the front, and point at her. “I hate to tell you this, but you have holes in your sleeves.”

  She holds her arms out over the table and looks down at them. “I paid good money for those holes. And it's called eyelet.”

  “Your bracelet...does that have a special name as well?”

  “No. Although if you think about it, why isn't it called 'wristlet?'”

  “An intriguing question. And I like the bracelet. Classy in its simplicity.”

  Cassandra spun it on her arm. “Thank you. It's an infinity bracelet. A ten dollar Etsy find.”

  “Etsy?”

  “Never mind. It's not part of your world. Are there any other comments you'd like to make about me?”

  I hesitate for a few seconds and then lean closer. “I can't wait to get you alone.”

  Her mouth parts. Her lips are perfect, shining with just a hint of pink gloss, and fuck, I want to kiss her.

  The waitress returns with our beers. Cassandra orders an appetizer. She’s fiddling with her bracelet and seems to be having trouble looking me in the eye. Her hands are small but strong-looking and tanned, with neatly-trimmed nails and no polish, which totally fits her. No doubt she'd mock professional manicures. I imagine those fingers wrapped around my length and have to quickly halt the thought. Easy, big guy. It’s not the time for this type of thinking. But it will be soon.

  “I hope your food doesn't take too long. I'd like to get you out of here.”

  “Oh, really? I thought we were just having drinks here. That's what I agreed to.” Her chin lifts slightly, a childlike boldness in her eyes that’s amusing and arousing as hell.

  “I know what you agreed to. But it's what you're not saying that interests me most.”

  The couple next to us is quiet and seems to be listening to what we’re saying. Cassandra glances over at them—she’s noticed this, too, and when her eyes meet mine, we both grin in mutual understanding.

  “I almost don't dare to ask, Carlo, but what did you have in mind?”

  “I have plenty in mind, and I'd rather show, not tell.”

  “So you're going to expect me to just go along with you somewhere after this?”

  “In a word...yes.” I hold her hard with my gaze, and the uneasiness in her face fades away. There’s something that passed between us just then—hard to explain, but a warmth, almost.

  Looking into Cassandra’s eyes, I can see she felt it, too.

  chapter twenty-one ~ Cassandra

  After a quick trip to the bathroom, mainly to check my teeth for popcorn kernels, I’m in my car, following Carlo to God knows where. The whole situation is laughable, really: Have versus Have-not. Beach House versus Townhouse. Mr. Mercedes Convertible versus Ms. Chevy Malibu.

  Carlo's car passes under the pale glow of the streetlights. He has the top down, and I can see the wind ruffling his hair. Maybe that's how he gets it so perfectly tousled. He’d asked me to ride with him b
ut I said no, not wanting to be dependent on him to take me home. Not wanting to be dependent on him at all. I want to feel like I can leave when I want, instead of when he decided to allow it. Although seriously, who am I kidding? If Carlo wants me to stay, am I honestly going to be able to refuse? I’m more than well aware of how convincing he can be.

  I reach over to the passenger seat and fumble in my purse for gum, pop a piece in my mouth and chew. I’m stressed—starting to sweat, and damn that I forgot to bring deodorant. Hopefully, I won’t have these armpit stains by the time we get to wherever we’re going. At least my blouse is cotton and somewhat absorbent. I wasn’t quite sure what to wear, but Carlo seemed to approve of what I picked out, since his eyes had kept roaming all over me.

  I am not complaining. Not a bit.

  That's a very flattering blouse, he’d told me. It makes you look sweet and feminine. And innocent. His eyes were almost smoldering when he'd added that, and I’m shivering just remembering it.

  Looks can be deceiving, I’d tried to joke. I may not be any of those things.

  Oh, but I think you are. You’re many things, which makes you so appealing.

  I smile, remembering the blonde girl sitting next to us. She was clearly into Carlo (and who could blame her), so it was quite hilarious to see her pretend not to listen to our conversation when she so was. Maybe her nerdy boyfriend picked up a few pointers from Carlo.

  We just crossed over into Manheim. He’s turning onto Mt. Joy Road, a two-lane highway with cornfields, farmhouses and low hills on either side. And all of a sudden, I know exactly where we’re going. This is the route to Windswept Stable.

  We drive slowly up the long, winding driveway that leads to the barn. Moonlight is silvering the leaves of the old maples lining the entrance, their huge branches draped along the path. It’s so, so beautiful here at night. I unroll my window a little to let in the sultry air. Everything seems hushed and muted—the only sound is tires crunching on gravel as both our cars slow to a stop in front of the barn. Sonya would have done close-up about an hour ago, so the horses will be finishing the last of their hay. As I’m turning off the ignition and opening my car door, I can hear a low nicker from Brownie. That horse loves company.