I laugh at his expression. “I think your beans are burning.”
He turns around, grabs the pan off the fire, and to my surprise, deftly and with the great flourish of a top-Chef, pours them into two plates that are already loaded with food parked on the warmer.
“Voila! Now, tell me that wouldn’t make an award-winning photo,” he boasts proudly.
That reminds me of Tamara’s order to send a picture of him this morning. I force a smile to my lips. “You’re absolutely right. It is photo worthy. I want to take a picture of it.”
He looks at me strangely. “You do?”
“Yeah, the first breakfast you ever made for me.” I lift a shoulder. “It can go into the Lars and I album.”
His eyes twinkle. “You’re going to make a Lars and I album?”
I nod guiltily. It never even crossed my mind to make one. “Give me a minute to get my phone. It’s in my room,” I call as I flee from the kitchen. I drop the bundle of clothes into the wash basket before going into my room to get my phone.
I see that Jesse has called three times. I text that I’ll call her soon then return to the kitchen. I notice that Lars has brought in a vase of flowers from the dining room and put it by the plates. Something tugs at my heart. How amazing it would be if this was real. That I’m taking a picture for a Lars and I album. I start clicking and sweeping the camera around to get a few shots of the chef. I try to take a few head shots too. There’s no way I’m sending Tamara pictures of a half-naked Lars.
Lars pours coffee into a mug. “Do you want milk or sugar?”
I shake my head and he sets the mug in front of me
“Where’s Emma Jean?” I ask, picking up the coffee.
“She never comes in the day after the party. Everybody is usually hungover in their beds, and no one comes around for food.”
I take a sip and nearly spit it out. Forcing myself to swallow it, I look at him. “What the hell have I just drank?”
He grins. “Cowboy coffee. Strong enough to float a horseshoe.”
“Ugh, it’s how I imagine battery acid would taste.” I stand up and walk over to the fridge. Getting a carton of orange juice, I pour myself a glass of it and walk back to the table. As I pass by, Lars’ large hand curls around my thigh. I look down at him.
“I never got my morning kiss, sugar pie,” he drawls.
I bend down and lightly place my lips on his. His other hand comes up and winds into my hair. His tongue forces its way into my mouth. I suck it and his other hand slides up my thigh. My stomach becomes jelly. His mouth leaves mine, but his eyes watch my face avidly as his fingers run along my wet seam.
“Are we really going to waste all this food?” I ask in a shivery voice.
“I’ll make us more,” he mutters.
I look deep into his beautiful eyes. “Do all your hook-ups get this treatment in the morning?”
His fingers still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean you’ve had a lot of experience, haven’t you?”
“I’ve had my share,” he says with a slow, cocky smile.
“Do you make breakfast for them all?”
His smile widens. “Sometimes I give them such a good time they give me breakfast in bed.”
Arrogant pig. I keep my face totally straight and my voice solemn and slightly apologetic. “I know you tried, but I didn’t have a very good time last night.”
It’s water off a duck’s back.
“What if I told you I don’t believe you,” he replies.
I run a finger down his straight nose. “You’re very, very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
His hand caresses my butt cheek. “I am. Are you very, very sure of your assertion.”
I nod slowly.
“Care to test out your theory?”
I put my glass of orange juice on the table. “How?”
He shrugs. “If I’m really awful, you should have no problem resisting me, should you?”
I pretend to consider. “That’s true.”
“You should be able to say no, no matter what I do.”
I pick a sausage from his plate and lick it slowly.
His eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
I look at him innocently. “Nothing. Haven’t you seen a girl lick a sausage before?”
“No. Has anyone ever told you what happens to girls who lick sausages?”
“No. What?”
“They usually get thrown on a table and end up begging for more.”
“There’s more evidence of your caveman techniques,” I say before gently sucking the tip of the sausage.
“Right. I’m going to get you to admit that I’m the best you’ve ever had, or I’m never eating another sausage in my life.”
I want to giggle so bad. “You can try, cowboy,” I say in my sultriest voice.
He stands up and sweeps all the plates of food to the floor. They smash and food flies everywhere. My jaw hangs open. “I can’t believe you did-”
He grabs me by the waist, lifts me up, and sets me on the edge of the table. “Hey,” I exclaim as he grasps my knees and pulls them apart. “What are you doing?”
“Haven’t you ever seen a man lick a pussy?” he asks.
I place my palms on his chest and crinkle my nose. “You’re not seriously going to do that, are you? Not after all the sex last night?”
“Why not? Day old muff. Heaven sliced up,” he mocks.
My mouth drops open with shock. “You really are irredeemable.”
“Now, have you got any other excuses, or are you ready to submit?”
“Do your worst,” I throw at him.
It takes him only seconds to tear an admission out of me. “You are the best I ever had.”
“And the sex?” he asks with his tongue poised inches away from my tormented clit.
“The greatest,” I pant. And I wasn’t just saying it either. As Chance would say, “Damn if that shit don’t take you to another place.”
Chapter 42
Cass
While Lars cooks breakfast again, I clean the mess on the floor, saving the bacon and sausages on a plate. Then Lars whistles for the dogs and they come running in to lick the plate clean. After we eat, we agree to go to our separate rooms to shower and change before meeting again in the hall. Lars wanted me to shower with him, but I knew I had to send his photo to Tamara or she would be breathing fire down my neck.
I go to my room, crop the photo, dim it a little with a filter so he doesn’t look so blindingly sexy, and hit send. With a sigh, I put my phone down on the dresser and turn toward the bathroom, but before I get to the door, my phone rings. I turn around and look at it in astonishment. It can’t be. She never calls at this time. I walk toward it and look at the screen. It’s her. This time, I know she isn’t drunk dialing me from a beach.
“Hello,” I answer politely.
A totally photo-shopped version of me fills my phone’s screen. From the background, I can see that it is nighttime and she is propped up in bed. “How’s cleaning up horse dung coming along?” she asks with a big, fake smile.
“Could be worse,” I say lightly. I’m not going to let on that that she can never make me feel bad about being here. I’m having a whale of a time. Far better than she is on her private island in whatever part of the world she is.
She scowls suddenly. “What’s wrong with your face?”
Instinctively, my hand flies to cover the lower half of my face. “Why?”
“You look…red faced and…odd.”
“Oh, I must have gotten sunburned yesterday.”
“Does everyone really think you’re me?” Obviously, she still thinks I’m not anywhere near her level of beauty.
“Don’t worry, there are only a few people here and none of them have heard of you.”
“You’re in Montana, not outer Mongolia. There must be people who’ve heard of me,” she snaps irritably.
It’s like walking on a minefield with her. “What I
meant to say is, I’ve only been dealing with ranch hands. They’re not worldly. They spend all their time with animals doing filthy work. God knows if they even know what a celebrity magazine is,” I explain patiently.
That seems to pacify her somewhat. She twirls a piece of her hair on her finger. “What about Lars then? Is he a ranch hand too?”
“Yes, he’s a ranch hand,” I agree warily.
“Well, he doesn’t look very filthy. Maybe he’s filthy in the sack.” She laughs at her own joke.
My belly tightens, but I make a show of pretending to laugh.
“Do you spend a lot of time with him?”
“Not really.”
“Define not really.”
I word my reply carefully. “Well, I guess whatever interactions I have with him are those that happen while carrying out my duties.” Sleeping with him is probably not part of the job, but Tamara definitely doesn’t need to know that little detail.
“You like him, don’t you?” she asks slyly.
“No,” I say, but I must have either taken too long to deny the question or been too emphatic, because she purrs. “Cass, I know that you do. You can tell me. I’m your boss, but I’m also your friend.”
Yeah, right. She must think I fell off a turnip cart to believe that. The mess of baked beans I scooped off the floor and threw in the trash would make better friends to me than her. “You’re mistaken, Tamara. I don’t feel anything for him other than gratitude for teaching me to ride.” I pause, thinking of something that would make sense to her. “He’s just a ranch hand. He has no money or future.”
But she is on to me. “You don’t have to hide from me, Cass. I completely understand how the heart works. It doesn’t matter how much money someone has if you have feelings for them. I’ve been there, you know.”
“I don’t have feelings for him,” I mutter, but Lars chooses that very moment to knock and call from outside my door. Damn.
“You about done, baby?” he asks.
“I’m just on the phone. Can you give me a minute?” I reply, turning away from the phone because I can’t look Tamara in the eye.
“Right, come to the living room when you’ve finished,” he says through the closed door.
“Will do,” I reply. His footsteps move away and I turn back to the screen. My heart is beating like a drum, but I keep my face totally expressionless.
Tamara’s eyes glitter as she moves in for the kill. “That was him, wasn’t it?”
I don’t even try to lie. “Yes.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed. I don’t think having feelings for a ranch hand is a bad thing.” Her tone is both wheedling and conniving.
“I don’t have feelings for him,” I insist.
“Come on, just admit it.” Delicately, she shrugs one shoulder. “It’s not like it’s a crime or anything. You’re a grown-ass woman. So fucking what if you do?”
I realize that she’s not going to give up. She’ll just go on and on until I admit it. Sometimes, you gotta take the bull by the horns. “Okay, yes, I do.”
She smiles triumphantly, a cat-got-the-mouse smile. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
“No,” I say softly.
“So, you’re actually happy there?” she says in a wondering voice. “You found yourself a drop-dead-gorgeous man and you’re not miserable even though you’re shoveling shit all day with a bunch of laborers?” To my surprise, a tinge of bitterness creeps into her voice. For all her money and fame, she is a lonely, sad woman.
“I guess so. I enjoy being with horses. Learning to ride is fun and everybody here has been really kind to me.” Maybe I was responding to that wistful tone in her voice. Maybe, I thought I could ignite some spark of empathy in her, but it was a stupid move.
“But you know you can’t sleep with him, right?”
My eyes pop open.
She grins. It’s not an evil grin. Just the kind of smirk you would give someone when their Monopoly token lands on your heavily built up properly. A smirk that says, gotcha. “It’s in the contract you signed,” she says sweetly. “You can’t act in any way that besmirches my good name.”
Her words jar my brain. Who would have thought her name and the words good name could ever be uttered in the same sentence? “What?”
She fake sighs. “Here’s the short version. You can’t fuck him.”
For a second, the image of how wantonly I opened my legs last night and exposed my bits to Lars’ hungry gaze flashes into my mind.
“You’ve already slept with him, haven’t you?” she pounces.
I frown, not knowing where she’s going with this. I can play nice up to a point, but if she ever tries to shaft me, or get out of paying me for this job, she’ll see another side of me. The side that has nothing left to lose.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” she prods impatiently.
I straighten my shoulders and flick my hair. “Yes, I have, actually, but I’m not in breach of my contract. I was categorically instructed by Ms. Moore to act like you, and I figured that if you wanted a man, you would take him.”
She seems to find my outburst funny. She laughs. “That’s the first bit of bitch-spine you’ve shown. I like it. You’re absolutely right. When I see something I want, I take it. And that’s exactly what I intend to do now.”
I look at her in disbelief.
“However, you may carry on sleeping with him. Keep his dick hot and hard until I arrive,” she orders haughtily.
I blink. Is she serious?
“Just remember that you’re not to reveal your true identity to anyone, especially him…or you won’t get a cent from me. If that’s not enough of an incentive, I’ll get Daddy to make sure your little fuck-friend loses his job too.”
I stare at her in horror.
She pretends to yawn. “Right. Carry on as you are. I’ll be in touch to let you know what changes there are to the original plan.”
Her face disappears from my screen.
Chapter 43
Cass
Tamara’s call leaves me in a state of mental turmoil. On autopilot, I have a quick shower and dress in jeans and a T-shirt. I don’t know what she can or will try to do. All I know is whatever it is, it will hurt me. I go out to the living room and flash a bright smile at Lars.
He looks at me with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, my smile in place. “Nothing. Everything is just perfect.”
“Something is wrong. Tell me what it is, baby.”
God, I want to confide in him, tell him the whole sordid story, but now I have another sword hanging over my head. Telling him could mean he’d lose his job. I know he loves being here, and the last thing I want to do to him is to part him from his beloved mountain. I walk up to him and rub my hand against the bulge in his pants. His face changes as I knew it would. His cock jerks instantly to attention.
He groans. “Hell, Tamara. You’re going to make me come in my pants.”
I take my hand away. “What have you got planned for us today.”
He gives a slow smile. “We could start by finishing what you just started.”
I put Tamara out of my mind and grin at him. “That’s just to keep you keen and mean for when I show you my cherry pop routine.”
“I am keen and mean.” His eyebrows fly into his hat. “Wait! Your what?”
I wink. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
“You expect me to wait after telling me about your cherry pop routine?”
I stand on the tips of my toes and nibble at his earlobe. “Trust me, it’s worth the wait.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “Jesus, woman. You sure know how to drive a man crazy.”
“What’s the plan for today?”
“Come on. We’re taking the horses out,” he says, picking up a bag.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Let me in on what a cherry pop routine is and I’ll tell you what’s in the bag.”
He throws his head back and laughs, the sound warming my heart and saddening it at the same time.
We go to the horse barn to get our horses. If I thought the sexual tension was bad before, it is ten times worse now. I just want him inside me all the time. I force myself to stop thinking about sex and concentrate on saddling Thunder.
I set Thunder’s saddle in almost the same time frame as Lars saddles Devil’s Ride, which makes me really proud. We go through the barn doors and out into the sunshine,
“So, what are we doing?” I ask
“We’re going on a picnic.”
“A picnic? Really?” I feel my heart lift.
His dimples show. “That’s the plan. But we don’t have to if you’d rather show me your cherry pop routine instead…”
“Nope, that’ll keep. I want to go on a picnic,” I say with an easy smile as I prepare to mount Thunder.
“Shame,” he replies, swinging his leg over Devil’s Ride.
Lars leads us beyond the horse pasture where the rest of the horses are roaming freely for the day. Dismounting from his horse, he opens the fence and waits for me to ride through before closing the fence and getting back on Devil’s Ride. We change from a canter to a gallop, but Lars lets me decide the pace I am comfortable with as we cross the open grasslands. The wind tears through my hair and I bend forward and laugh with exhilaration as I urge Thunder to go faster. It is one of the most amazing sensations I have ever experienced. The power of the animal beneath me makes me feel one with nature and fantastic speed makes me feels as if I’m flying.
Soon, Lars gives me a hand signal and we drop to a trot. My face feels flushed as I look at him. He smiles encouragingly at me. I pat Thunder’s neck and start to notice the scenic landscape around me. More than once, I find myself silently praying that one day I will have the chance to live in a place as beautiful as this, doing something as fun as this. Eventually, we arrive at an Aspen grove.
We follow a narrow trail that winds between the majestically tall trees and to my delight it opens out to an enclosure of vibrant green grass. There is a stream running through it with mossy stones at its banks and the air is lovely and cool. Red flowers sprinkle the ground and there are lilies growing in amongst the Aspen.
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