Single Dad’s Plaything: A Single Dad First Time Billionaire Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  “I will,” John muttered, still staring at her as she wiped clouds of dust from Miss Peanut’s coat. “Just proud of you, man, that’s all.”

  “I appreciate it. Now get out of here.”

  John hurried away to finish mucking the horse stalls. But he must have told the other hands that Chanda was there, because soon they appeared in the grooming room.

  “Hola!” Carlos shouted boisterously. “At last we get to meet the beautiful Mrs. Stryker!”

  Chanda froze again, surprised by the interruption. “Hi,” she managed shyly.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stryker,” Derek said respectfully, taking her hand and kissing it.

  “All right, guys,” Chris warned.

  They slowly backed off, still watching Chanda in shock. There was none of the usual teasing and joshing that they gave Chris. They seemed to be in awe of his wife, who was more beautiful in real life than in photos.

  Chris finished grooming Dark Knight and picked the horses’ feet. Then he hefted a saddle out of the tack room and set it on Miss Peanut’s back.

  “I want to do it!” Chanda insisted.

  He smiled. “Are you sure? You have to get the cinch very tight, all right?” He showed her how to tighten the cinch, back cinch, and breast collar and then adjusted the stirrups. “You’re a lot shorter than me,” he explained as he took a few inches off of each stirrup.

  “Thank you,” she breathed. “Now it’s time?”

  “Almost. Untie her, and lead her over there.” He pointed to the arena off of the barn, where a white mounting block awaited. “Let me saddle Dark Knight and I’ll be right there.”

  He led Dark Knight out into the arena and tied him to the side of the arena with his reins. Then he helped Chanda slip the reins over Miss Peanut’s neck and use the mounting block to swing onto the horse’s back. Chanda cried out in excitement once she was securely on the horse’s back. “I am so tall,” she giggled. “I can see the world from here.”

  “Wait till you see the world from where I’m taking you,” Chris said. He pointed out a distant hill. “From the top of that, you will be able to see for a hundred miles around.”

  Chris led Chanda in a circle around the arena. She kept cheering and clapping. The hands stopped working to watch. “Go on,” Chris snapped at them. “Nothing to see here.” But they wouldn’t budge.

  “She’s a cute one,” Carlos laughed.

  “Why am I cute?” Chanda demanded.

  The men were surprised that she spoke up. “I’ve never seen a grown woman so excited to ride a horse,” Carlos finally explained. “You act like a little girl.”

  “This is my first time,” Chanda responded indignantly.

  “That’s clear,” Derek snorted.

  Chris turned on him. “Knock it off, guys.”

  “Sorry. I’m just pointing out that you’re riding with your heels up, Chanda. That’s how you say your name?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Here.” Derek strode into the arena. Chris flared his nostrils with irritation as Derek tapped Chanda’s feet, showing her how to properly position them.

  “Oh. Thank you,” Chanda said. “That’s much more comfortable.”

  “You’re welcome.” Derek brushed his bangs off of his forehead and smiled up at her.

  Chris sighed. “Are you ready to go, Chanda?”

  She nodded eagerly.

  “All right, bye guys. This is our ride so you don’t get to follow along,” Chris grumbled as he untied Dark Knight and swung into the saddle.

  “Just trying to help,” Derek responded.

  “Well, we don’t need your help now.”

  Chris and Chanda took off into the hill country. Low, brambly trees and blackberry bushes surrounded them and the hills were shrouded in verdant green. Chanda rode directly alongside Chris, a happy grin on her face. “This is wonderful,” she commented.

  “Isn’t it?” Chris pointed out some of his cows. “They won’t hurt you now, but never go near them. They tend to get mean when the fancy strikes them.”

  “I didn’t think riding horses could be so calming. They have a…”

  “A rhythm? A cadence?” Chris suggested.

  “That’s the word!” She beamed. “You must teach me more English.”

  “Your English is so good. You speak it better than I do.”

  “But there are many words I do not know,” she answered. She leaned forward and rubbed Miss Peanut between the ears. Miss Peanut swiveled her ears back and heaved a content sigh.

  “Miss Peanut likes you a lot,” Chris noted. “She feels relaxed right now. You’re relaxed, too. That’s so important when you are riding horses.”

  The ground began to slope up. Chris found a trail. “Those are the oil wells,” he told her, pointing out one that was arching up and down in a valley next to the hill.

  “It looks like a giant bird, pecking the ground for worms,” Chanda observed. She had never seen a machine like that. It made a slight creaking noise. Cattle grazed around its base. “The ranch is so beautiful except for those,” she added.

  “That’s how we make a lot of our money,” Chris explained. “After a while, you stop noticing them. And this hill is peaceful, free of them. I ride up here all of the time. When I’m upset, this place soothes me. I come here to collect my thoughts and calm my mind.”

  “Why this hill? There are so many others,” Chanda asked.

  Chris glanced around. While his ranch was covered in gentle hills and slopes, this one had always stood out to him. “Perhaps it is because my brother and I used to come up here when I was younger. My brother and I liked to ride up here. We would pack some beers and drink up here when we were too young to drink. We’d come back all drunk, and our father would whip us.”

  Chanda laughed. “I notice how happy you look when you speak of your brother. You must miss him.”

  Chris shifted in his saddle uncomfortably. “Yes, I do.”

  “What happened to him?” she ventured.

  “He…had an accident. Now look behind us.” Chris stopped Dark Knight and turned to face the trail that they traveled. “You can already see almost the entire ranch.”

  Chanda turned Miss Peanut and gasped as she looked over the beautiful ranch. In the distance was the huge ranch house and barn complex. “It’s so lovely up here.”

  “It’s quiet, too. No one else comes up here.”

  “America is so vast,” she went on. “The open spaces shock me. We don’t have that in Cambodia. There are people everywhere.”

  “I remember that. You will have to get used to big, open spaces, especially in Texas. Of course, the cities are pretty crowded. But there is much distance between every city and town here.”

  “It is amazing.”

  “You’re happy here?” Chris smiled at her. “I was worried you might get homesick. I read that foreign brides tend to miss their families and homes.”

  She shrugged. “I miss them all. But I have missed my family for many years. Since my father got sick, I have been very lonely. I miss my mother most of all. She dies when I was much younger. Here, I have you. I feel complete. At home, I only had my cousin Yun to talk to. I couldn’t talk to my other family about things like love and romance.”

  “I just want you to know that you can talk to Yun whenever you want. And you can set up a shrine if you want, too. I want you to be comfortable. And if there’s anything you want to do in the community, you should do it.”

  “I can find a job,” she suggested.

  Chris laughed incredulously. “A job? I am a billionaire, Chanda. If you ever need money, I can give it to you.”

  “Yes, I know. But I am used to working. I would like to get a job.”

  “Do you know what people will think of me, making you work when I have so much money?”

  Chanda looked insulted. “You just said that I could do whatever I need to do to feel comfortable. I feel that I need to work. Otherwise, I will be bored.”

  Chris
sighed. “I did say that. I suppose that’s something we can think about. We have to finalize your green card for you to work.”

  “Let’s start that right away.”

  “OK.” He still frowned. The idea seemed bad to him. “I just worry that people will say mean things to you. And tell you bad things about me.”

  “Why would people do that?”

  Chris turned Dark Knight and continued ascending the hillside. “People get jealous. They have a lot of bad things to say. That doesn’t mean that you should listen.”

  “OK,” Chanda agreed. “The women at the factory were that way too. They were so mad that I was going to America. I was going to get a promotion there, too, and everyone was mad that I turned it down to come here. My boss was not happy with me.”

  “That’s understandable. But see? They were just jealous. They wanted to keep you in the same low life that they led. I’m glad you didn’t listen to them. Now you can have a better life than all of them do.”

  “Yes. Even Yun is very jealous. She has been on the site longer than me yet she has not yet found a husband.”

  “Poor Yun. She seemed very sweet.” And pretty, too. Chris wondered if maybe John would like her. John was always so sheltered and hadn’t had a girlfriend that Chris knew of. He also earned a handsome salary from Chris. Maybe he and Yun would hit it off, if Yun came to visit? “Does she have her passport?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK. Perhaps she can visit you.”

  “I promised her that she would visit.” Chanda seemed overjoyed. “I’m so glad you suggested it first.”

  They finally reached the top of the hill. They whoa’ed the horses and spent several minutes looking out across the valley housing the ranch. Chanda finally heaved a sigh of happiness. “Yes. I am very glad I didn’t listen. This is better than anything that I had in Cambodia,” she told him finally.

  Chapter 13

  Chanda and Chris spent the next few weeks exploring Texas and exploring each other. They made love in every part of the house, and all over the ranch. They took leisurely rides and flew in his plane. Chanda was fearless, eager to explore every inch of her new world and her new marriage.

  At home, Chris gave her a room to dedicate to her family. She set up a shrine to her ancestors, and she placed the doll that her aunt had given her at the very top of it. She felt content at first, but after a few weeks, she became weary of doing nothing but leisurely activities all day. There seemed to be more to life. And she missed being able to talk to other people, even just the civil conversations she used to have with her co-workers at the garment factory. In addition, she found that Chris was very quiet and didn’t talk much. While that didn’t bother her, it made her feel very lonely when she had to tolerate it day after day.

  “Can we go to town?” she whined one day. The afternoon was totally stifling her.

  Chris looked up from the book he was reading. “Where do you want to go?”

  “I don’t know. I just want to go to town. I want to get out of the house.”

  “I am going grocery shopping,” Rita appeared in the living room, her purse hooked over her arm. “Do you have any special requests?” Rita specialized in Mexican and American food and was struggling to adjust to Chanda’s more sensitive taste.

  “I will go with you!” Chanda declared, hopping up off of the couch enthusiastically.

  Rita seemed surprised. She glanced at Chris for permission.

  “Sure,” Chris said hesitantly. “I will go too.” If he was there, then maybe no one would give Chanda grief or tell her bad things about him.

  At the grocery store, Chanda surveyed the groceries as if fascinated by them. The store was just as pristine and packaged as she had heard in rumors, but it was weird to see in person. “What do you think of this?” she asked them, leading them to the pickle aisle.

  “What can I cook with this?” Rita wrinkled her nose at a can of pickled vegetables.

  “We eat a lot of pickled things in Cambodia,” Chanda explained. “We cook them over rice and fish.”

  Rita nodded slowly with disapproval. She didn’t seem happy when Chanda added some pickle jars to the cart.

  “Let’s visit the Asian food aisle? Maybe we can find some noodles that you would like,” Chris suggested.

  They made it over to the Asian food aisle. As Chanda browsed the packages of rice and noodles, an older Vietnamese woman approached her. “You must be Mrs. Stryker,” the woman said graciously. “I am Miss Ling.”

  “Yes!” Chanda clasped her hands and they nodded at each other.

  “I own Dixie Nails,” the woman went on. “I am head manicurist.”

  Chanda’s eyes widened. “I love doing nails! I learned how from my cousin. I would love to go to your salon sometime.”

  “Do you have school? I have manicurist position. I need girls. You come work for me?”

  Chris cleared his throat. “Chanda doesn’t need work,” he said firmly. He knew that the nail salon was the biggest site of gossip in the town, next to the Cut Up Hair Salon. “She has no schooling, either.”

  Chanda shot him a sad look. “You know that I want to work. I have no school, but I can go to school. I’m willing to learn.”

  “There is program in Fredericksburg. You go, I hire you. You would have something to do.”

  Chanda seemed excited. Miss Ling gave her a card, and Chanda tucked it into her blouse pocket. “I could go to school for nails. I could have something to do. A hobby,” she told Chris excitedly. “I know you are proud and you don’t want me to work. But I would like to do it. Then I would make friends.”

  Chris seemed resistant to the idea at first but Chanda begged him until he relented. When her green card came through, he sent her to school. He also bought her a red Bug car so that she could drive herself to and from the nail program every day.

  The program was fun. Chanda enjoyed driving to Fredericksburg each day, playing music from her country. The other girls were all young like she was, and one girl was from Vietnam. They found a lot to talk about. Just being able to get out for a few hours each day to talk to others made Chanda feel content. When she would come home, she would make love to Chris, delighting in his moans. As long as he was happy, she was happy. But the program gave her a sense of purpose, like she was doing something with her life.

  Chanda took the program very seriously. She genuinely loved nails. Here was the hobby she wanted so badly. She would practice on herself for hours at home, trying to perfect her nail sculpting and nail art.

  “Why do all Asians like nails?” grunted Rita one day as she came to ask Chris about dinner and noticed Chanda practicing on a mannequin hand.

  “I don’t know,” Chris responded forlornly. “I think she just wants so she can make friends. She wants to meet other women. Asian women.”

  Rita shrugged and returned to the kitchen. The sound of her knife whacking a zucchini filled the air. Though she had tried to adjust her cooking to include more Asian food, for the most part, she stuck with zucchini, beans, and Mexican fare.

  Chanda pretended not to hear the exchange between the two. But it bothered her. Why did they seem so reluctant to let her work? They both seemed to disapprove of her passion and think that nails were not something to be taken seriously.

  At the end of the four-month program, Chanda proudly showed off her nail technician certificate. “Tomorrow I will go speak to the lady at the salon. She will hire me.”

  Chris sighed. “Chanda, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Yes?” She looked crestfallen. “You don’t seem happy for me, Chris. Aren’t you proud of me? I came to America and made something of myself. Why are you so unhappy?”

  “I just worry about how the town will treat you. They aren’t nice people, Chanda.”

  “I can handle myself,” she insisted.

  Chris sighed. “People…they like to repeat rumors about me. If you go to work at the salon, I’m afraid that you will hear some things.”

/>   “Remember what you told me? That people are just jealous.” Chanda took his face between her hands and planted a firm kiss on his forehead. “I will love you anyway.”

  Chris cleared his throat, then sighed. “OK,” he relented.

  Chanda was thrilled to finally start working. Miss Ling was nice, as were the two others girls who worked for her, both of whom were her kin. The customers were polite, too, oozing with Southern charm. Most of them wanted simple French tips or solid-color manicures so Chanda practiced her fine nail art on her co-workers.

  That was why she was shocked by a customer she got after two weeks at the salon.

  The woman who came in was dressed like a cowgirl, with a rhinestone top that drug low over her tan breasts. She obnoxiously pointed at Chanda and declared, “I want you to do my nails, girl.”

  “Oh, all right. I don’t have any clients right now,” Chanda obliged. “Have a seat. What do you want today?”

  “French tips.” The woman perched down on her seat.

  “What’s your name?” Chanda asked sweetly as she began to fit white tips onto the ends of the woman’s nails.

  “Leslie,” the woman responded with equal sweetness.

  “Oh. That is a pretty name.”

  “Yeah. I know who you are.”

  Chanda looked up, surprised by the hint of hostility in the woman’s tone.

  “Yup. I used to date Chris,” the woman went on. She flipped her blonde curls over her shoulder. “You’re one lucky girl, hun.”

  “Oh.” Chanda faked a smile. It had not occurred to her that Chris might have exes in this town, though of course it made sense. “That’s good.”

  “Well, he and I are completely over now. I couldn’t handle him. You know, with all his family issues.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I really had to work through knowing what he did. You’re a saint, forgiving him for that.”

  “What are you talking about?” Chanda set down the tip that she was fitting over Leslie’s forefinger and studied Leslie’s ice blue eyes. Leslie sure wore a lot of makeup. It was hard to tell what she really looked like, or what her real facial expressions were. Somehow Chanda could not picture her and Chris together.