The CEO & I

by River Laurent

  I can tell Lars is trying to gauge my reaction as we walk through the joint, so I allow my expressions to show on my face—my fascination with the lovely scents, my love for the open brickwork, the wild west decor, the cowboy memorabilia, and my pure delight in being out on a date with such a magnificent man.

  We are shown to a candlelit corner seat by a very friendly woman who addresses Lars by name, and though her eyes do slide down my body in surprise, she calls me honey and her smile is genuine enough. While we are looking at the menu, she brings us beers.

  Lars orders a burger, but I restrain myself from ordering the largest, juiciest burger on the menu and ask for a strip of grilled chicken instead. I’ve never been a fan of grilled chicken, but old habits die hard. Even as the waitress is taking the menus away, I start to feel the first pang of regret. I should have gotten the bison burger. I push the regret aside and let myself be drawn into a conversation about the new foal until the food arrives.

  “What’s on your mind?” Lars asks, chewing his first bite.

  “Nothing,” I say with a polite smile. Since when do I hold my tongue?

  He doesn’t respond immediately and I continue to look at my dry, unappealing chicken. My attention jerks back in his direction when his beer bottle settles with a firm thud on the table in front of me.

  “You have always been open and blunt about what’s on your mind. You’re looking at your chicken as if the damn thing’s been dipped in a toilet. You’re eyeing my burger as if you’d like to murder it, I’m sitting here watching all kinds of unpleasant thoughts swim across your eyes, and you’re telling me nothing’s wrong,” he exclaims.

  Obviously, I can’t tell him I didn’t order the burger because it was twenty bucks, and it was force of habit that made me choose the cheapest thing on the menu. “You’re right,” I say, peeling my crop top away from my stomach. “I hate grilled chicken. Your burger looks amazing, and I wish I had ordered that instead.”

  He opens his mouth to comment, but I don’t stop there. I’ve held my tongue all night and I’d like to discuss some of my issues. “And another thing is bugging me. You never specified if this was a date or an apology, so I don’t quite know how to behave.”

  “I’ve already apologized. This is a date, so feel free to behave like you’re on one.”

  I nod slowly.

  Lars shoves his plate across the table, takes mine, and puts it in front of him. Now, instead of chicken I have almost all of a juicy burger at my disposal. He takes a bite of my chicken and chews it slowly, pretending that it isn’t one of the blandest things he’s ever eaten.

  I laugh. “You’re a pretty cool dude when you aren’t being a pig, you know. Here,” I say, cutting the burger in half and giving him the larger half.

  He lifts his hand and the waitress comes back. “Can we have another burger, please?”

  As soon as she walks away, Lars turns to me. “Actually, you’ve surprised me. I expected you to have dry chicken and salad. Isn’t that what most celebrities in LA exist on?”

  I shrug. “I guess I’m different.”

  “And that, Tamara Honeywell, is exactly why I like you.”

  And with those words, my spirit feels crushed. I wonder if he will still like me if he knows that I’m not a millionaire heiress. That my name is Cass Harper and I’m in debt to the tune of thousands of dollars.

  I’ve got the lemons. I don’t know where to find the sugar, water, and a stand.

  Chapter 33

  Cass

  Dinner is long finished and our dessert, wild huckleberry swoon fudge pie and white chocolate sauce with two spoons, arrives. The restaurant closes in an hour and I know we’ll be leaving soon, but I don’t want the night to end. The wine, the candles, and the good food have done the trick, and for the first time, Lars and I have been relaxed with each other.

  Of course, it is not a perfect night. He tells me about his brother Matt, his sister Sophia, and his parents, but I am constantly forced to pepper all my stories with lies. The other thing that bugs me is when he occasionally uses Tamara’s name to address me. It reminds me that none of this is real. It’s not Lars and Cass, but Lars and Tamara, the spoiled celebrity with enormous boobs and a bad attitude.

  “Am I going to start, or are you?” I ask.

  “It may be poisoned. You go first.”

  “Careful. I might start to think you don’t like me very much,” I retort as I take a spoonful of my pie. Wow! I nearly moan.

  “That good?” Lars asks, that odd look back in his eyes.

  I swallow the delicious concoction and nod. “I’m practically dying with happiness.”

  He grins.

  I dig my spoon into my gooey dessert and take it toward his mouth. He opens it and the spoon slips between those sensuous lips. His gaze never leaves mine. I withdraw my spoon. Something strange is happening inside my body. Breathlessly, I watch his eyes darken. My spoon clatters back on my plate.

  “Your turn,” he says.

  He brings a spoonful of pie and ice cream toward my face. I open my mouth and I think he does it on purpose; the spoon misses my lips slightly so some of the ice cream smears around my lips. Before I can lick it back into my mouth, his fingers are on my face, tracing the ice cream, pushing it into my mouth, lingering on my lips.

  This time I can’t help it. A moan escapes. Slowly, he takes his fingers to his mouth and sucks them. I stare open-mouthed. It must have only been seconds, but it seems like time has stopped and we are just staring at each other hungrily. Then the waitress comes to ask if everything is fine and I snap out of my trance. He says something, but I am so flustered I don’t even make it out. The waitress goes away.

  “Have you been up the mountain?” I ask. It’s totally unrelated to anything, but it is the first thing that pops into my confused, over-heated head.

  “When we were kids,” Lars says, leaning back in his chair. “we used to spend our holidays up there in Dad’s cabin. We were practically the only people within miles of that place. Us kids were all hardcore with our walkie-talkies that had a twenty-mile reception radius. The only rules we had were to stay out of the way of bears and mountain lions. So, we ran wild.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “That sounds amazing.”

  “It was great. And you’ve spent your whole life in the city?” Lars prompts.

  “Yeah,” I say with a smile. That, at least, is the truth. I grew up in Chicago. There were no bears or mountain lions. Just apartments, unhappy people, and crowded streets. In certain areas, I had to hold my dad’s hand tightly when we went down the street.

  He draws his brows together. “I’ve never liked cities.”

  “You’re not the only one. This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been,” I say, thinking about the wide-open, lush landscape of the ranch.

  “You don’t have to leave, you know,” Lars says quietly.

  I look into his blue eyes as if they’re a television screen, shining my future before me. If I stay here, I would learn to be a horse trainer, and learn to live off the land. I may one day even meet the owner of the ranch, and maybe he’ll hire me. Then Lars and I might make it. Who knows what will happen if I can stay.

  But I can’t.

  I look at the wooden table and take a deep breath. Then I look up. “I can’t stay, Lars. My life is not here.”

  Lars’s expression falls faster than I thought possible. He looks so vulnerable and hurt that I want to hold him and comfort him, and tell him…

  If I’d met you any other time, I’d stay without a second thought. You’re a beautiful person and this ranch is fantastic. I’ve learned so many things here on the ranch, and sometimes I fantasize about staying forever. About just tossing away all the things I know and never going back to the city. I’d love to work here, but I can’t. I have problems at home and I need to take care of my father. I’m not allowed to come back. I just want to be Cass with you, but I can’t.

  Of course, I don’t say any of those things.
I’m just building castles in the air with dreams of a life with him. I look into his hurt eyes and force myself to bite my tongue and remain silent.

  “We should probably leave. It’s about closing time,” I murmur.

  He pushes his chair back with a loud scrape and stands. I look up at him, worried that I have ruined the night, but his expression is soft. “You’re right,” he says far more gently than I was expecting.

  I follow him and wait while he goes to pay for our meal.

  We ride home in awkward silence. I try to think of something—anything—to say, but nothing comes to mind. I know I’ve initiated this new bad vibe, but he must know I can’t stay. When we pull to a stop in the driveway, I turn to him in the hope of remedying the situation, but instead of waiting for me to speak, he throws himself out of the truck. I can only watch in distress at the way my date has flopped.

  His disappointment, or possibly anger, doesn’t stop him from coming around and opening my door for me. I guess at heart, he’s a gentleman. I avoid his extended hand and jump down on my own. I know that his gesture is an empty formality. He’d much rather avoid touching me after what I said.

  I stand beside the truck sorry that I’m not Tamara, sorry that I don’t have a choice in what I do this month. It makes me feel sick to my stomach. I guess it all comes down to whether I will accept what I feel for him and allow it to last a measly month, or deny my heart what it truly craves—him.

  I watch him reach to close the door and suddenly feel a flash of anger. It’s not fair. No, I’m not going to let the night end this way. Why should I let us suffer? It won’t matter to Tamara what I do with the ranch hand. To hell with the NDA. I’m going to trust him and tell him the truth, confess my part in it, and beg him not to ruin it for me. I grab his arm.

  “Lars,” I begin. “I need to tell you something-”

  At that moment, my phone rings. My first thought is something has happened to my dad. He’s taken a turn for the worse. Then, I look at the caller ID and the blood runs cold in my veins. It is as if the universe has spoken. Don’t be so freaking stupid. The number has a Chicago area code, and even though I don’t recognize it, I know exactly who is on the other end.

  I look at up at Lars. “Sorry, but I have to take this call.”

  He shakes his head and begins walking away from me. It was nice while it lasted, but that’s the end of me and Lars.

  I turn my back on him. “Hello?”

  “Where the fuck are you? And where the fuck is this week’s money? You trying to swindle T-bone, little bitch?” a man’s voice yells.

  “I told you I had to go away. I’m working on getting the money right now. At the end of the month, you’ll be paid in full,” I respond, my voice shaky.

  I turn slightly and notice Lars stop in his tracks and become still. It’s obvious that he is trying to listen in on the conversation. I press the phone to my ear and start walking away, but the screaming at the other end of the phone deafens me and I have to hold it away from my ear. “End of the month? That’s not what our agreement was,” I whisper nervously. “I spoke to Fingers before I left. He agreed.”

  “Fingers?” he scoffs “Fingers is not in charge. You’re asking for your debt to be doubled again, little girl.”

  “Doubled?” I cry in horror. I’ll be able to afford ten thousand dollars once this job is concluded, but I was hoping to have twenty grand to help my father. If he doubles the figure, I’ll only have ten grand left for my father, which will mean I can afford the medicine, but not the caretakers or house bills.

  “Did you just fucking yell at me?” T-bone snarls.

  “No, no,” I say quickly.

  “At this rate, you’ll be working your debt off on your fucking back.”

  “I know exactly what I owe you, and I’m not agreeing to pay double for no reason,” I argue. I’m trying my hardest to hold my tears at bay, but I feel so helpless. I can’t even run away from this problem. If I run, they could hurt, or even kill my father. They could find me and do the same.

  “You stupid bitch,” the man spits. “Don’t you think-

  Suddenly my phone is snatched out of my hand. Lars holds the phone to his ear and gets an earful of the man ranting and raving on the other end of the phone before making his presence known.

  “Listen to me, and listen good, you little shitbag. If you ever dare threaten her life again, this debt will be the least of your problems. We can work out a way to pay what she owes, but if you even think about contacting her again, I’ll rain hell down on your ass,” Lars says quietly.

  I stare at Lars with a mixture of shock and fear. Even in his angriest moments, he has never spoken to me in such a dangerous and menacing tone. This low, controlled voice is far scarier than T-Bone’s enforcer yelling threats at me. Lars almost sounds like a psychopath.

  Still holding the phone to his ear, Lars glares at me before walking away. I try to follow him, but he holds up a finger and I stop. Usually, I’d argue, but in his current state, I’m unsure if I want to press the issue. I stand still and watch him go out of earshot then I cross my fingers and hope that the guy he is talking to won’t address me by my name. But how likely is it that two strangers won’t say my name while talking about me?

  It takes less than two minutes before Lars comes back to me and hands me my phone.

  “I’ve taken care of it. He’ll never bother you again, but if he does, let me know immediately.”

  He’s taken care of it? “What? How did you do that?”

  There is something distant and cold about him. “What put you in debt with these people?” he asks softly.

  “Drugs,” I blurt out. It’s the first thing that pops into my mind.

  A light dies in his eyes.

  “I borrowed money for drugs. That’s part of the reason I was sent here, but I’ve quit now,” I add quickly, but the light doesn’t come back into his eyes.

  “So why does he refer to you as Cass?” he asks warily, staring at me as if I’ve hurt or betrayed him.

  “Fake name,” I throw back smoothly. Lies flow from my lips far too easily, and I detest it. “Didn’t want them to know who I was.”

  Lars looks suddenly tired. He simply nods.

  “I’ll pay you back,” I say.

  Lars closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, they are expressionless. “Don’t do anything. Just go to bed.”

  I open my mouth to argue.

  “Please,” he says between clenched teeth.

  I whirl away from him, run up the steps, and through the front door. When I get into my own room, I throw myself on my bed. I can honestly say I have never felt so small, sad, or ashamed in my entire life.

  Chapter 34

  Cass

  I shove the last bit of horse manure into a wheelbarrow and wipe the sweat from my forehead. Amazing how the smell no longer bothers me. In fact, I don’t even notice it anymore, but the relentless heat wipes me out. I go and sit on a bucket beside Thunder’s stall. It’s so much hotter here than it ever was in Chicago, or even Los Angeles. I’m dying for a long, cool drink from the refrigerator, and a shower, but I know Lars is around and I dread going back to the house and risk bumping into him, so I stay in the humid barn in a funk of self-pity and cowardice.

  The tension between Lars and me is so thick now you’d have trouble cutting it with a knife. I desperately want to diffuse it, but I don’t know how to handle the situation, which is unusual for me.

  I always have a plan.

  Maybe there is another solution, but I’m just too tired to think clearly. I hardly slept last night. Tamara called in the early hours and disturbed my sleep again. She was extra friendly, which made me even more wary and distrustful. She asked me a bunch of personal questions about Lars, but she mostly seemed to want to know how I feel about him and if he likes me back.

  I’m not stupid, so I didn’t confirm her suspicions. I lied and told her I wasn’t interested and neither was he. I could tell she didn’t believe
me, but the weird thing is, I also kind of got the impression that she saw it as a challenge and that she was plotting something.

  She ended the call by reminding me that the terms of my contract mean I have to behave in a way that does not tarnish her reputation, so I am not allowed to sleep with anyone. There’s no one here I want to sleep with, I told her.

  “Why is this so much harder than a regular job?” I ask Thunder wearily.

  Thunder snorts and looks at me as if he’s contemplating my question.

  I laugh. “You’re a really good listener, you know.”

  Oh, my God, it’s happened. I’ve finally gone mad. I’m talking to a horse as if it’s my best friend. I stand, brush the dirt from my jeans, and stretch my limbs. The action makes me lean back into Misty’s pin. She neighs and presses herself as close to me as possible.

  Aww…I do love her. I hug her and plant a noisy kiss on her nose. We’ve become really close. Because she’s so placid and easy going, I’m more relaxed and can learn quickly while riding her. I’ve practiced barrel jumps and a few other training techniques with her that I hope to use on Thunder once I’ve mastered them.

  Giving her a last pat, I leisurely make my way toward the entrance. Halfway through, I come to a dead stop. Lars is standing at the entrance of the barn. The light is behind him and I can’t see the expression on his face.

  “Finished for the day?” he asks quietly.

  Unable to speak, I nod.

  He takes a few more steps into the barn and I see the gleam of sweat on his skin. His clothes are dusty and his hands grimy. He has obviously been working on the land. He takes his hat off and runs his hand through his hair. Motes of dirt slide from the dark strands and fly in puffs away from him.