The CEO & I

by River Laurent

  “How’s the dick rider?” he asks.

  I feel something tighten in my chest. I don’t want Matt to be disrespectful about her. “She’s riding Thunder as we speak,” I say to divert the conversation in a different direction.

  “Whoa. Can you run that by me again? What the actual fuck do you mean she’s riding Thunder?”

  I smile. “She’s sitting on Thunder and Thunder is moving.”

  “You’d better be kidding me.”

  “Nope.”

  “What the fuck, Lars?” my brother swears. “Do you want a dead celebrity on your hands? Her old man will have a heart attack if he knew we put her on that bone breaker.”

  “Calm down. Tamara figured out that Thunder will only accept females.” I think of Butch. “And it seems, feminine men too.”

  “Right, that makes perfect sense, but I still can’t believe you risked it.”

  “It wasn’t much of a risk. Thunder took to her instantly, and she’s got natural talent with horses. She’ll be okay. Besides, I’ve asked one of the guys to keep an eye on her while she practices.”

  “You did what?”

  “Just to make sure no harm comes to her. We don’t want old Honeywell breathing down our necks, right?”

  “Right. Great move, bro.”

  “I’m on my way out. Call you later?”

  I end my call and walk to my truck parked not far from the barns. The first thing I do when I jump inside is to look in my rearview mirror. I see Thunder trotting around the field with Tamara seated straight and firm on his back. I’ve seen so many women ride horses, but Tamara is the second person who looks as if she belongs on the horse. As if the horse is an extension of her. The first person was Catherine.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out and look at the caller ID. “Sophia,” I greet with a small smile. I put my truck into drive.

  “What’s going on?” my sister asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. Who is she?” Sophia asks. I can’t understand how she has determined that there is a girl in the picture from a single word.

  “No, seriously. What are you talking about?” I insist.

  “Lars, you’ve lost two trainers in like two weeks, and you haven’t called me to help with Thunder once. Thunder doesn’t take well to anybody, and I know you didn’t hire someone new to work with him. And just now, when you answered the phone, you had a lilt to your voice. You better tell me. I’m not asking you again, Bubba.”

  I scowl at the nickname. “There’s nothing to tell because there’s nothing between us,” I growl.

  “Us?”

  “You’re making wild assumptions again. There is no us. She’s just here for a month then she’s gone.”

  “Did you do that thing where you treated her like she was an inconvenience just by existing? Because you always do that when you don’t know how to act.”

  I despise how well my sister knows me. “That may be why she hates my guts,” I admit.

  “Oh, Lars. Ask her to dinner and bring her flowers. If she absolutely hates you, she’ll laugh in your face and turn you down. If you have a chance, she’ll accept. So, what’s she like?” Sophia asks.

  Beautiful, smart, caring. “It’s Honeywell’s daughter.”

  For a few seconds my chatterbox sister is struck dumb. “Which Honeywell?” she asks cautiously, even though she knows exactly which Honeywell.

  “The Honeywell you’re thinking of.”

  “Oh, my God! No. What are you thinking, Lars?”

  I smile to myself. “What happened to ask her to dinner and bring her flowers.”

  “That was before I knew it was Tamara. She’s horrible.”

  I stop smiling. “Look, I gotta go.”

  “Fine, but this conversation is not over,” she says seriously.

  Chapter 28

  Cass

  “Hell, Tamara, what the fuck are you doing to me,’ he growls, his eyes shimmering with a bright supernatural hue like a wolf’s.

  The last time he said those words, he walked away from me, but now he grabs my face in his hands and swoops down on my mouth. My heart stops beating. The kiss is rough and possessive, like a man claiming his woman. My whole body starts humming as dormant desires wake up and an insistent throbbing begins between my legs.

  My fingers slip into the waistband of his jeans. His skin is like warm silk. I feel the round metal button cool against my thumb. Deftly, I slip the button out of its eye.

  I use both hands to drag his jeans down and I feel his shaft, so hard and ready for me.

  “Oh, Lars,” I whisper, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

  He grasps my button up shirt at the front opening and rips it in two. Buttons fly and ping against the wall. My shirt hangs open as his hungry eyes devour my body. He reaches behind and works the fastening of my bra. He flips the straps and it falls to the ground with a soft whisper.

  “Jesus, you’re exactly how I dreamed you would be,’ he says, his big manly hands cupping my breasts.

  Then we both hear this odd buzzing sound.

  “Just ignore it,” I groan.

  “What is it, though?” he asks, his voice curious.

  The noise gets louder and louder, and I suddenly wake up. It was only a dream. Disorientated, I look in the direction of the noise. My phone is vibrating against the nightstand. For a second, I do nothing. Remnants of the dream still cling to me. It felt so real. I take a deep breath, hit the light switch, and press the green circle on my phone. Tamara’s tanned face flickers onto my screen.

  “Hi,” she says brightly. She is sitting on a black leather chair wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe with a towel tied like a turban around her head. A dark-skinned woman seems to be doing something to her. I can see her head and a bit of her face bobbing at the bottom of the screen. She is obviously getting a pedicure or a foot massage.

  “Hello, Tamara,” I say, rubbing my eyes.

  “You look sleepy. What time is it over there?”

  “It’s 1:30 in the morning here.” I keep my voice neutral and completely devoid of the intense irritation I feel.

  “Have you learned to ride yet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh good. Has everybody there seen you riding?” she asks eagerly.

  “Uh...not yet. Only Butch.”

  “Butch? I thought your trainer was someone else.”

  “Ah…well. Lars didn’t have the time.”

  She frowns. “A mere trainer didn’t have the time for me?”

  For crying out loud. She is insulted because someone didn’t drop everything to put her needs first. “It’s not that he didn’t have the time. We kind of fell out and I decided to practice on my own with just Butch to watch over me.”

  “You fell out?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  She rocks her butt as if she is settling in for a good story. “You better tell me everything then. Because I don’t want to trip up and say the wrong thing to the wrong person when I get there.”

  Me and my big mouth. God, why did I ever mention Lars? “It’s actually nothing. I wanted to ride a particular horse, but he thought the horse was too wild.”

  Her eyes become saucers.

  “It all worked out in the end,” I say quickly. “He was wrong because the horse was fine with me.”

  “Oh, my fucking God. He’s on your To Bang list, isn’t he?”

  Every vestige of sleep deserts me, and I feel a shaft of unease go right through me. “What?”

  “Don’t worry, you can tell me everything. I’m no prude. I love sex,” she says in an overly saccharine tone.

  “No, no. You’re completely wrong. I don’t think of him like that at all.”

  “Yes, you do. You’ve gone all red,” she cries triumphantly.

  “Tamara, it’s not what you think. We’re just friends who—”

  “—Have fallen out,” she interrupts slyly.

  “I—”

 
; “—Send me a photo of him,” she orders bossily.

  I clear my throat. “You want me to take a photo of him and send it to you?”

  “Exactly.”

  I swing my legs to the floor. “Why?”

  It seemed like a reasonable thing to ask, but it sends her into a frenzy. I mean, she totally loses it. She goes ballistic. It’s the most incredible thing how she can go from normal to this ranting and raving monster. Her hands fly out and smack that poor woman crouched at her feet. The woman screams and I hear a clatter as if she has fallen to the floor. Frozen with horror, I stare open-mouthed as she curses me for daring to question her order.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll take a photo,” I cry, recovering from the shock of seeing her incredible transformation.

  “You better,” she screams furiously, and breaks the connection.

  I stare at the blank screen. Wow! That was unbelievable. No wonder her staff is terrified of her. I put the phone down and lie back down, but I’m wide awake now. My sleep is completely ruined.

  Why would she want a photo of Lars? It can’t be just curiosity. Just because she thinks I want him? The more I think about it the more I realize that she could be one of those women who will take their friends’ boyfriends simply to show that they can. I stand up and pace the floor uneasily.

  I don’t want to send a photo of Lars to her.

  She’ll take one look at Lars and want him for herself. I know it in my bones. I toy with the idea of sending a photo of Butch, but then I know that if anything at all goes wrong, she will try to find some way to punish me financially.

  Anyway, it’s not like Lars belongs to me.

  I suddenly remember my dream and goosebumps scatter across my skin. I stand at the window and stare out into the night, wishing I had never mentioned Lars to her. At traumatic times like this, the only thing that can make me feel better is ice cream.

  Chapter 29

  Cass

  Barefoot and in my pajamas, I pad out of my room and head toward the kitchen. Everybody is asleep and the house is still and quiet. I switch on the light, get ice cream from the freezer, sit down, and slip a spoonful into my mouth.

  Chunky Monkey ice cream.

  Yes.

  A big middle finger to Tamara and her lawyers and Lars and the whole world. Except of course for Jesse, Dad, Thunder, my mom, wherever she is. And Emma Jean too. And Butch. He’s a sweet guy. Well, maybe Chance as well. Okay, make it all the animals in the barn. Might as well include all the animals in the world. They’re innocent too.

  I take another spoonful and hear a noise.

  I turn my head toward the door, and sweet Jesus! Lars is standing there in a pair of old jeans and a white T-shirt; exactly the way he was dressed in my dream.

  “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” he says.

  I shake my head.

  He nods and, coming into the room, takes a spoon from a drawer and then sits opposite me. I give the ice cream tub a push and he catches it as it slides toward him.

  “What’s bugging you?” he asks, digging into the ice cream.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t ever play poker. You’ll lose your shirt.” He looks up at me. “Although, that would be a sight.”

  My eyebrows rise. “Are you flirting with me?”

  He slides the ice cream back toward me. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  I catch the carton and frown. “What’s bugging you?”

  He pulls a clean spoon out of his mouth. “Nothing,”

  I fill my spoon with ice cream, push the carton toward him, and say, “You should stay away from the poker tables too.”

  “I’m actually a very good poker player.”

  I catch the tub that he passes back to me. “Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?”

  He grins, a wolfish, totally feral grin. “I wouldn’t trust any man with you, let alone me.”

  Suddenly, the air in the room becomes thick. Confused and certain that we are talking about two totally different subjects, I gulp the ice cream in my mouth and blurt out, “I rode Thunder today.”

  “I know. I saw you.”

  I’m so shocked, I almost don’t catch the tub barreling toward me. “You did?’

  He looks at me strangely and nods.

  “Where were you?”

  “In the study. I was wrong. You did very well.”

  My cheeks heat up with pleasure.” I did do well, didn’t I?”

  “Yup, you’re good with him. He’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

  The atmosphere in the room changes again; fills with tension. He stares at me, his eyes like molten silver, his body rigid. I want to smile or say something, but I can’t move a muscle. He is like a magnet...or Dracula. Then he blinks and I look down into the ice cream tub. What the hell is going on here?

  “You’ve set a record,” he says softly.

  I dig into the ice cream. “For what?”

  “You’ve gone nearly ten minutes without insulting me.”

  I look at his smug expression and act instinctively. I flick the ice cream on my spoon in his direction. Bingo. It smacks him on the nose.

  I can’t believe my aim is so accurate. He looks so shocked I start laughing and can’t stop. I clutch my belly and bend with laughter. He gets up and starts to come around to my side, but I am up on my feet and running. I run to the other side of the table and face him, still laughing but wary. He tries to chase me, but I am super-fast. We do two circles around the table. Once he changes direction, but I was prepared for it, and he gained not one inch on me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “I might believe it if you said it without cackling like a witch.”

  That makes me laugh even harder.

  He rips a couple of pieces of paper towel and holds them out to me. “Show me you’re sorry by cleaning up your mess.”

  I lick my lips. All my laughter is gone. Like a robot, I walk toward him. A foot away from him, I take the bunched-up wad in his hand and lift it toward his face. He catches my wrist halfway and pulls me toward him. I look into his eyes. Oh, my God, he’s going to kiss me. Just like in my dream.

  Suddenly, his eyes narrow.

  “What?’ I whisper.

  “Your eyes are green.”

  It’s like a slap in my face. I feel my blood draining down to my toes. Oh, crap. What the hell am I up to? It’s that time of the night when men want some easy sex, and I’ve fallen right into it like a complete fool? I can’t believe I’m that stupid. Not after I just witnessed how batshit crazy Tamara really is.

  I could have ruined everything just because Lars woke up wanting to get his dick wet. I blink as the horror of what would happen if I am unmasked hits my lust induced brain. Mrs. Carter has paid my dad’s hospital bills on good faith that I will complete this job successfully. Dangerous loan sharks are circling and I’m thinking about sex.

  “Yeah,” I say as casually as I can. “My eyes turn color when I’m tired, or I don’t get enough sleep.” I force a smile onto my lips. “And that must be my cue to go back to bed.” I tug my arm out of his grip. “Goodnight, Lars.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just watches me with a strange expression on his face. My body feels stiff and I know my movements are robotic, but I make myself walk away without turning back. When I get to my room, I close the door and lean against it.

  That was a lucky escape, Cass. Don’t ever put yourself in that kind of situation again.

  Chapter 30

  Lars

  I open her bedroom door softly and in the shaft of light from the kitchen behind me, I see her asleep in her bed. Quietly, I walk to the side. For a few seconds, I don’t do anything. I can’t. I just stare at her. In sleep, with her blonde hair spread out around her, she is like an angel. This moment when I found her asleep is precious beyond words, and my mind takes a picture of it. For later. For when I am old and sitting on my porch smoking my pipe.

  I reach down and gently shake her arm. “Tamara,” I call softly.


  “Daddy,” she mumbles in her sleep.

  That moment of vulnerability makes something inside me shift, and I feel as if I could give my life up for this beauty. I long to stroke her silky golden hair.

  “Wake up, Tamara,” I say.

  She opens her eyes and for an instant, she smiles at me. An open, childlike, innocent smile. Totally without guile. “Lars,” she whispers.

  I stare at her. How different it would be if this sweet creature was the real her, but as I watch, a veil comes into her eyes and she jerks back.

  “What are you doing in my bedroom?”

  “Bessie is in labor and Emma Jean said you wanted to see a foal being born. Do you still want to?”

  Her eyes widen with surprise. “Yes,” she says nodding her head. “Yes, I do.”

  “Okay, get ready and join me in the kitchen.”

  I go into the kitchen and stand by the table. My heart is pounding in my chest. There is a saying around these parts. Don’t go in if you don’t know the way out. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve never wanted a woman so badly in my life. I thought it was just lust, but it is more. So much more.

  “I’m ready,” she says from behind me.

  I whirl around. She is dressed in a plain blue sweatshirt and black jeans. Her hair has not been combed and it makes my fingers itch to run through it, fist it, and turn her face up to mine.

  “Come on,” I say, picking up the lantern from the kitchen table.

  We walk quickly out of the house into the darkness of the night. The night air is cool and we go quickly toward the barn. I don’t switch on any of the lights to avoid disturbing the other horses. I lead Tamara to the stall thickly laid with hay. It is larger than all the others and designed to give a laboring mother plenty of room to move around. I’ve already tied her tail and she is pawing the ground restlessly. A gust of wind slams against the side of the barn, but inside the stall, the world is warm and humid.

  “How do you know she’s ready?” Tamara whispers.

  “I’ve been watching her all night.”