The CEO & I

by River Laurent

  His eyes widen. “He does far more than that, ma’am.”

  It is obvious where his loyalty lies.

  “I haven’t had one chance to ride my horse yet, so he really needs to get his ass out here.”

  He clears his throat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, ma’am, but my job is to make sure you don’t do nothing…er…” he scratches his cheek, “irregular.”

  I groan with frustration and turn back to Thunder, my brush strokes ferocious. On the second stroke, I stop and take a deep breath. This is not me at all. I’m never horrible toward perfect strangers. Yes, I’m furious with Lars, but I shouldn’t take it out on this poor kid who’s just trying to do his job, or this beautiful horse that I love. I kiss Thunder’s neck and say a silent apology, then turn around with a smile on my face. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. Let’s start again. I didn’t get your name.”

  “I’m Butch,” he says, looking relieved and extending a hand toward me.

  “Is that a common name in these parts?” I ask, taking his hand. It’s rough with calluses, but his shake is firm and he doesn’t hold my hand longer than necessary. I decide I like him. We just got off on the wrong foot. “I’ve never met anyone—other than a German Shephard—named Butch.” I grin to show that I’m not being malicious.

  He grins back. “It’s way more common than Tamara,” he says.

  “Oh yeah?” I wonder how common the name Cass is around here.

  “I think your accent’s real neat,” he says bashfully.

  “Thank you, but your accent is very different. You’re not from around here either, are you?” Except for Lars and Emma Jean, everyone else I’ve met in Montana speaks with a slight accent that almost sounds like a southern drawl, but less potent. It suddenly occurs to me that maybe Lars is not from Montana either.

  “You betcha I’m not from these parts. I’ve got itchy feet. They’ve taken me all over the country. I’ve been in Georgia, Texas, Utah, Kansas, Colorado, Iowa, Wyoming, and North Dakota. I was going to work here for six months then move on, but I kinda like it here and I guess I’ll stay on for a bit.”

  “Me too. I kinda like it here too,” I agree with a big smile in his direction. I feel like I have to make up for my previous behavior, more so now that I know that we’re in a similar situation. He’s not acting like a celebrity to pay off loan sharks, but like me, he’s an outsider.

  He smiles back.

  “You know,” I begin, “we should hang out sometime. Maybe we can teach each other something.”

  For a second, Butch looks unsure of himself. “Yeah, we could hang out,” he says as if he’s trying to act cool.

  I take a step toward him. Crap, he doesn’t realize I'm being friendly and not flirtatious. “Butch,” I say seriously, “I’m not interested in you in a romantic way.”

  Butch casts his eyes downward and takes a deep breath. It’s clear he’s disappointed, but then he chuckles. “That’s good,” he quips, “because I’m not into high fallutin’ city slickers with curves for fuckin’ days.”

  My tense muscles relax with relief. “And I’m not into judgy, douchebags with laughing eyes.”

  “I’m real pleased to meet you, Tamara Honeywell,” he says, smiling.

  “Why?”

  “I like having attractive friends. And you are hot,” he says with a wink.

  I laugh and nod my head. “Okay, here’s to friends. I need a friend around here anyway. Who’s better than a skinny chicken expert who is meant to watch out for me?”

  Butch leans against Thunder’s stall, and the huge horse reacts by getting onto its hind legs and neighing. Butch jumps away and clears his throat in an attempt to act natural.

  I smile and walk toward Thunder. “Are you scared of him?”

  “How come you’re not?” Butch stands well back and allows me to lead Thunder into the main part of the barn.

  “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve seen a horse in person. I’ve always thought they were beautiful, but never interacted with them.” I pet Thunder’s nose and tie him to the fence post outside the barn. “Do you want me to show you what to do? You can’t get over your fear from over there.”

  “I’ve heard bad things about this horse,” he says nervously.

  I laugh and extend my hand toward him. “I promise I won’t let him hurt you. You’re the first man that Thunder has allowed near him, so that’s a start. It’s good for him.” I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of the gentle, almost feminine vibe to him that makes Thunder tolerate being around him.

  He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll pass,”

  “Come on, Butch. It’s really not that bad. Just try it.” I cajole.

  When he just stares at me, I pull the guilt card. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you, but I don’t know about this.” His tone is semi-persuaded, but I know I need to go a step further.

  “I thought we could be such good friends, but you won’t even help me to tame my horse?”

  “You know I would if I could,” he says, taking a step in my direction.

  All that’s left is pity. “But you can.” I lower my head and drop my shoulders, taking in a deep breath and petting Thunder solemnly. I’m not Tamara, but hell, my acting is top notch right now. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” I mumble.

  “Fine.” He sighs and cautiously comes toward me.

  I look up at him and smile. Thunder doesn’t react as Butch approaches, and I bite my lip anxiously. Will Thunder take to Butch the way he took to me?

  He comes even closer and Thunder remains stationary, not bothered by his presence. I’m amazed by the fact that Thunder isn’t reacting negatively toward Butch. “You’re doing great,” I say encouragingly. Am I encouraging myself or Butch? I’ve only been around these animals for nine days, but I feel connected to them. Am I ready to be responsible for someone else as well as myself and Thunder?

  “Just pet his snout. He won’t hurt you,” I promise. I don’t know if he’ll get anxious about being touched, but he’s tied to a post. He won’t be able to do any damage while restrained by a rope.

  “Okay,” Butch mumbles, reaching his hand out. He doesn’t touch the horse’s head, though. Instead, he hovers for a moment then begins to pull back.

  I grab hold of his hand and place it on Thunder’s face. He jumps slightly, evidently surprised by the close contact and my forceful gesture, but he doesn’t attempt to break free. Instead, he wiggles his fingers on Thunder’s snout and the horse snorts nervously and swishes his tail. Butch looks at me and smiles with an awed expression.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Lars says from behind us, startling Thunder and making Butch and I leap apart in shock. I jerk my head toward him, baffled as to why he sounds so livid.

  Chapter 23

  Cass

  His jaw is clenched tight and his eyes are narrowed dangerously on both of us. “I asked what the hell is going on here?”

  I don’t know what he thinks is going on, but the whole situation is quite absurd. A weird giggle escapes from my mouth, but Lars doesn’t think it’s funny at all. He glowers at me.

  “I’m just teaching Thunder not be nervous around men,” I explain.

  “Oh, you are? And does that involve holding hands and being right on top of one another?”

  My jaw drops open. “What’s your problem? You hired Butch to hang around me, and now you’re here acting as if we’ve done something wrong.”

  He strides in our direction, his whole body strung tight like an animal about to pounce. “Leave,” he says firmly to Butch.

  Butch doesn’t hesitate to do as he is told, but he looks back and meets my eyes to ask if I’ll be okay with Lars. Brave of him. I smile slightly at him, and he hotfoots it away faster than I can blink.

  Lars takes another step toward me and Thunder suddenly goes crazy from his proximity to us. I try to pacify him, but it is no use. He can’t handle being this close to another
man, especially one who is as angry as Lars. He’s probably picked up my angry vibes too.

  “Back off, Lars,” I say, trying to block his body from Thunder’s view.

  Of course, it doesn’t work, for he is much taller and broader than me. The lead rope attached to the fence is doing its job and keeping him from bolting, but I begin to worry about him hurting himself in his attempts to get away from Lars.

  “Lars, back the hell up, please,” I shout at him.

  Lars leaves my side and Thunder begins to calm down.

  “Tamara,” he calls, but I’m so furious with him I don’t even bother to turn my head. He has been unbearable ever since my arrival. I know I provoked him at the beginning, but I’ve stopped that now and he still insists on being nasty at every opportunity. I continue stroking Thunder as tears prickle the back of my eyes. It’s just anger, I tell myself. It’s anger, but I’m hurt too. No matter what I do, it’s always wrong.

  “Can you turn around and look at me please?” he asks.

  “You are the most immature, despicable human being I have ever met,” I say in a choked voice. “You don’t treat people with respect, or maybe you do, but never me. You treated Butch like shit and all he was doing was the job you assigned to him. I don’t know where you go during the day, or why you can’t be here, but it’s irrelevant at this point.” I sniff and wipe my eyes roughly with the back of my sleeves. “And don’t for one instant think I’m crying because of you. I’m not sad or emotional. I’m just done with this bullshit.”

  I hear Lars draw a deep breath and take a step in my direction. I twist around to face him and hold out a hand. “I think you’ve done enough damage here.”

  For a brief second, so quickly it feels as if I’ve imagined it, something that looks like hurt flashes in his eyes. Then it’s gone. “I’m sorry I made you cry. I swear it wasn’t intentional. I’ll teach you to ride Thunder if that’s what you want.” He sounds utterly defeated.

  His tone breaks my heart and instantly, I forget my own anger and hurt and just want to comfort him. Unable to look away from him, I take an instinctive step forward.

  “Once I do that, you don’t have to see me again,” he says bitterly.

  My outstretched hand flies to my burning chest. I was just about to embarrass myself. I should keep away from this guy. “I think I can learn to ride Thunder on my own. You won’t be able to come near him, anyway,” I say sadly. The sooner I accept this man is not for me, the better.

  “At least let me stay and make sure you’re okay. I can’t have you getting hurt,” Lars says, taking another step back. “You won’t even know I’m here.” His beautiful eyes drop to the ground, then rise again to meet mine a moment later, dimmer than before. He takes off his hat and holds it in front of him. A shock of silky dark hair falls on his forehead. My fingers itch to sweep it back.

  But I blew my chances with him the same way he blew his with me. I’m ashamed of the way I’ve been acting, but I had to act like that. I know he was only responding to my rudeness, because I can see the heart hidden beneath his harsh exterior and insufferable arrogance. He’s a great man—even if he hasn’t acted like one toward me. I wish things could have been different. Maybe—just maybe—we could have worked something out. But now it’s too late.

  “All right,” I say.

  He nods and, turning around, walks away.

  Chapter 24

  Cass

  I tried to avoid leaving the ranch, but it becomes inevitable when I run out of what Emma Jean calls ‘feminine items’. When I tell Ms. Moore, she asks me to go get my hair done at the local hairdresser as that is what Tamara would do. To my surprise, she takes the time to book an appointment for me and calls me back to confirm it.

  The town is about half an hour’s drive away. It is supposed to be tiny, with a population of about three thousand, but I cringe at the thought that someone might recognize Tamara and I’ll have to put on another show. It takes me almost an hour to put on my make-up, do my hair, and get into a sundress.

  Chance, one of the ranchers, has been designated as my driver, and he is sitting on the hood of a rusty red truck, idly chewing a stalk of grass while gazing out at the horizon. When I come out of the house, he whips his head around as fast as a snake and lets his eyes run down my body like water. As I come down the stairs, he whistles low and long.

  “I could squat with my spurs on for a sweetheart like you,” he says with a grin that is big enough to split his face.

  I just laugh. Chance is harmless, and I like him a lot, even though I can just about make out half of what he says. Born and bred in Montana, he uses a lot of slang. Someone from Washington is an apple picker. A four-wheel drive is a 4-dig, a horse is a hay burner, sheep are prairie maggots, children are curtain crawlers, a woman’s breasts are northern curves, and goodbye is nice speakin’ atcha.

  He rushes to open the passenger door, and I climb into it as gracefully as I can, considering the truck sits on huge tires and is at least three feet from the ground. As Chance drives me down the road, he tells me about the ranch, the countryside, and the Montana way of life.

  I keep interrupting him for translations into English, but overall, he is a mine of information and I absorb it all eagerly. As we come into a town, I start looking around me with wonder. It’s like a beautifully preserved time capsule of a forgotten way of life. The main street is a road that runs through two rows of red brick buildings facing each other. There are Mom and Pop stores, a chain dollar store, a gas station that doubles as a restaurant, and a drinking saloon.

  “Talk about small,” I murmur.

  “Heck, this town is so small I went out on a blind date once and found a long-lost cousin,” he says, scratching the back of his head.

  Chance parks the car in front of a store that says Shoes and More and jerks his chin toward a shop a few doors down the street. “Your hair salon is over there and the grocery store is across the street. I’ll be in Steadman’s.” He points to a hardware store. “Come over when you’re done.”

  I check my pocket to be sure I have my phone.

  “You won’t need that. No cellphone signal, anywhere, anytime, ever.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nods solemnly.

  There are people passing the truck and they look in curiously. Dear God, this is what hell must be like. Maybe if I keep my face covered and head down, I might be able to avoid detection. I turn back to Chance. “Mind if I borrow your hat? I don’t want to get caught in a stampede of fans.”

  Chance laughs and nods. “You know, you’re really not as bad as folks described ya.”

  “Remember what Emma Jean says. Never miss a chance to shut up,” I say, plucking his hat from his head and jamming it on my head before jumping to the ground.

  “Doggone it, I’ve been digging for water under an outhouse, haven’t I?” he says with a good-natured laugh.

  I grin back. “Stop when you smell the shit.”

  He laughs as I close the door. I adjust my purse on my shoulder and walk confidently to the hair salon. Teri Ann’s is done up in shades of pink inside and completely deserted. A woman with permed auburn hair sashays over to me. She has big, inquisitive eyes, but she quickly gives up trying to engage me in conversation when I pick up a magazine and pretend to be completely engrossed in it. When she switches off the hairdryer, I look up at the mirror. She has done a good job and my hair looks surprisingly glamorous. When I go to the little counter to pay her, she tells me the appointment has been prepaid for. I walk out without paying a dime. Having money appear out of thin air is wonderful. If only I could do that in Chicago.

  I walk across the street and pull a shopping cart from the pile by the entrance. Ms. Moore told me Tamara will be paying for everything and I intend to take full advantage. She deserves it for insisting on waking me up at two or three in the morning and giving me grief every single time she calls.

  It takes only a while for me to fill the entire cart. I buy stuff for Emma Jean
, Butch, Chance, and a few of the other guys, and a whole bunch of junk food for me. Once my cart is full, I go through the checkout. One by one, the cashier, a very pretty but unfriendly creature, bags all the junk food and hygiene items before hitting a few buttons and looking up at me with a bored expression. “That’ll be three hundred and seven dollars and thirty-nine cents.”

  I reach for my bag and feel the sides before looking over the brim of my hat at the cashier. Oh, shit! My cheeks feel like they are on fire. I didn’t put the credit card Ms. Moore gave me into my purse. It is still in the pocket of my suitcase. How the hell did I do that? I look up and the woman is looking at me with a disgusted expression. As if I’m deliberately trying to cheat her or something.

  “I—uh.” I try to think of anything to say to make this less awkward, but I draw a blank. “Look, I’m with Chance. He’s in Steadman’s. If you just put my stuff to one side and wait a few minutes, I’ll go get him.”

  She glares at me. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

  The way she is looking at me is as if I’ve been featured on America’s Most Wanted. I shake my head. “Just forget it. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

  “Yeah, and who’s going to put all the stuff back on the shelves?” She looks mad at the thought that she’ll have to do it.

  I guess I can’t blame her, but if she had only let me go get Chance she would have sold three hundred bucks worth of groceries and I wouldn’t feel like a piece of excrement. “Don’t worry. I’ll put the groceries back myself,” I offer.

  She puts her hands on her hips. “So you can steal some items while you’re at it?”

  I stare at her in shock. Did she just accuse me of being a thief?

  “Go on, git,” she orders rudely.

  My face burns with embarrassment.

  “Vicky,” I hear a deep voice say from a few feet behind me. I recognize the voice almost immediately and realize that the situation really can’t get much worse. I am so mortified I can’t even bring myself to turn around and see his gloating expression.