The Promise

by River Laurent

I pick up the note and read the large scrawling letters.

  Eat and be back at the horse stables by 12.00pm. Don’t be late. -L

  I glance at the clock and note that it’s 11:35. Just the thought of being back in the stables so soon makes me groan. If I had gotten up a bit earlier, I would have had more time to eat and relax. As it is, I’ll barely have half an hour. I hold the sandwich up and look at it. Ham and salad. Emma Jean must have made it a while ago judging by the fact that the meat is already at room temperature.

  I walk to my bedroom in my socks and sit on my bed, but I am so tired my body naturally falls backward. With a sigh, I unwrap the sandwich and, rolling over, take a bite. It has cheese and ranch sauce on it and is very good, but I’m too exhausted to really appreciate it. Chewing dispiritedly, I grab my new iPhone and scroll through my contacts. Other than Tamara’s and Ms. Moore’s, I’ve added only my father’s caregiver and Jesse’s numbers.

  Pulling myself up, I lean against the headboard of my bed. It’s going to be so damned hard to leave this bed. I hit the FaceTime icon and stare at myself on the screen. I don’t look anything like myself. I’m wearing a sweat-drenched V-neck shirt that cost far more than what I normally earn in a week. My hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail, but the color is not mine. My face is at least five shades darker than it usually is, which isn’t a bad thing, I suppose. Still, that was real and this is fake.

  But even worse, my eyes are not my own anymore. After just two days of being someone other than myself, my eyes are lifeless and without sparkle, not to mention they are now blue. With a big sigh, I hit Jesse’s number.

  “Cass Harper,” Jesse shouts into the phone. “Why did I not get a call from you yesterday?”

  “This is Tamara Honeywell, actually,” I correct, rolling my eyes.

  “That’s no excuse,” she says smartly.

  “I’m busy living the life of a Montana ranch hand.”

  “Girl, you look like dog poo and it’s only one o’clock. What have you been doing all morning?”

  I look at the clock on my phone, which says noon. “It’s actually noon here,” I respond tiredly. “And I probably look like crap because I’ve been shoveling it all morning.” I know I should be getting back out there, but I can’t. I’m no stranger to hard work, but four hours of continuous hard work is a different story.

  “You’ve been shoveling what?” she asks with a laugh.

  “You heard,” I say dryly.

  “Well, are there any cute cowboys over there?”

  Lars’ face pops into my head and I know Jesse will be able to see a change in my expression. I feel a blush sneaking onto my face.

  “There is one,” she squeals excitedly.

  “Yeah, there is,” I admit with a sigh, “but he hates me.”

  “Why?” she blurts out.

  “I’m Tamara, remember? Queen bitch?”

  “It can’t be that bad.” She laughs. “Why don’t you make an exception and be nice to him?”

  “What’s the point, Jesse? It’s not like I can start a relationship with him. I’ll be gone in a month. It doesn’t matter. Let him hate me all he wants,” I reply.

  “Well, can’t you just tell him the truth and tell him to pretend too.”

  “Whoa…Jesse. Not so fast with the 1001 bright ideas of the easiest ways to get your best friend behind bars. His employer is Tamara’s father! Don’t forget I signed that NDA, and her lawyers really sounded like they meant business. One wrong move and I could end up in prison. Anyway, the last thing on my mind is a relationship. The loan sharks will be looking for another chunk of money this Friday and I don’t know how I’ll keep them going for another twenty-nine days.”

  Jesse looks sympathetic. “I can pitch in about half of what you owe,” she offers, but I know that she can’t do that without giving up something herself. She doesn’t have much to give away when it comes to money.

  “No. I’ll work it out with them somehow. I’ll tell them I’ll be able to pay it all off when I get home.”

  “Other than bad vibes from a hot cowboy, what’s it like?”

  “I hate acting like a snobby rich girl, or shoveling horse crap for four hours because I’ve made Lars so mad with me, but I really enjoy the country air. It’s so much cleaner. I like the peaceful atmosphere. God, you should have seen what the sky looked like last night. And I love being around the horses.”

  She nods and smiles. “Yeah, you’ve always liked animals. Chicago isn’t the place for you.”

  “I know it’s not. I wish staying here was an option,” I say wistfully.

  Outside my door, I hear the floorboards creak and I shoot up, sitting straighter in bed. “I’ve got to go, Jesse. Much love,” I say, looking at the door.

  She gets the hint, smiles, and kisses her camera. “Love you more. Bye, Tamara,” she says with a wink.

  I laugh and end the call.

  It doesn’t surprise me when Lars barges through my door with a scowl. “I thought I said to be back at the horse barns by noon.”

  His body fills nearly the entire doorway. I lie back on the bed and pull a tomato slice out of my sandwich. “Don’t you ever knock?”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he glowers, his face as dark as a thundercloud and his eyes burning like twin gray fires.

  I slip the tomato into my mouth unhurriedly. “I’m eating my lunch and taking a break.”

  “Have you been in bed yapping on your phone for the last four hours?” he asks in an incredulous tone.

  I laugh harshly. “Yeah, that’s what I did. You caught me,” I spit sarcastically.

  “You’re impossible,” he snarls and looks at me as if I am some sort of flesh eating parasite.

  I guess if I were him, I wouldn’t believe me either. “Have you even been in the horse barn since this morning?”

  His eyes narrow suspiciously. “No. I’ve been working in the cattle barns.”

  “Doing what?” I challenge aggressively.

  “Not that it is any of your damned business, but we’re short-staffed so I milked six dairy heifers and cleaned out their stalls. What have you done?”

  “You called it,” I say airily. “I was on my phone for a few hours. I stopped when it needed to be charged.” I wave my hand vaguely in the direction of my phone. “Oh, and while we’re at it, let’s get something straight. You’re not the boss of me.”

  “I don’t think you get it, poor little rich girl. Let me put it in simple English for you. I am the boss of you. In fact, I have express permission from your daddy to discipline you in any way I see fit. That includes putting you over my fucking knee if necessary,” he roars furiously.

  My back goes rigid with shock. Over his knee? Nobody talks to me like that. Not even my own father has ever laid a hand on me. Enraged, I lean forward. “I’ve been out there since seven- thirty this morning working my butt off. For your information, I didn’t get back to the house until eleven thirty-five. I’ve been here for less than half an hour”

  “That’s twenty minutes too long,” he says coldly.

  I start boiling with frustration and anger. “I’m not a robot that can work all day without a break.”

  “More’s the shame.”

  I throw my hands up in a huff. “You know what? I give up. Work me until I drop dead. Then we’ll see how grateful my father is to you. What do you want me to do now?”

  “I want you to finish cleaning out the barn so I can put the horses back inside. They shouldn’t out be in the midday sun.”

  “What do we do after I finish?”

  “The plan was to start your lessons today, but since you can’t get your basic chores done, you can’t work with the horses.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “Okay then. If I finish, I get to ride a horse today?” I ask craftily.

  “You won’t finish quick enough. It’s a long job.”

  “But if I do?”

  “Then I’ll teach you some basics.”

 
I smile and sit up on the bed. If it’s possible to be more sore from lying down, I am. “Let’s go.”

  I allow him to lead as we walk back down the hill toward the horse barn. His strides are long and I have to trot to keep up.

  “So, why did it take you so long to clean out six stalls?” I ask, for the sake of making conversation.

  “Not that you’d understand work if it bit you in the ass, but cleaning stalls properly and milking cows takes time. It isn’t as easy as yapping on the phone for a few hours.”

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t know,” I reply. My voice is so calm he glances back at me suspiciously, but I keep my face expressionless. He thinks I was lying when I claimed I worked for four solid hours.

  Once the horse barn comes into sight, I start smirking, all soreness forgotten. We come to the entrance and he stops so suddenly I almost run into his back.

  “What-” he exclaims.

  I step nimbly around him and get right in his face. He’s almost a foot taller than me, but I make my presence seem larger than it truly is by squaring my shoulder and straightening my spine. I tilt my head sideways. It used to be Tamara’s habit, but it’s now becoming mine as well. I should be careful. I definitely don’t want to pick up any more bad habits from her.

  “Looks like it’s my turn to make something clear, huh?” I say triumphantly.

  He just stares at me, and I have to admit, the man really has astonishingly beautiful eyes. They glisten like wet jewels. I take a deep breath and continue. “For some reason, you’ve had me stereotyped from the first moment you laid eyes on me. Rich, spoiled bitch. Maybe you shouldn’t listen so much to gossip. There may be more to me than meets the eye.”

  His neck flushes dark red and something shifts in those amazing eyes. It has the bizarre effect of making my stomach flutter.

  I plow on. “Here’s a novel idea. Why not treat me like a human being? It might make both our jobs a lot easier.”

  His eyebrows shoot up and he opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him by putting my palm out.

  “I’ll do the same in return. I’ll try to be nice…if you stop acting like you’re so much better than me.”

  He folds his arms over his chest. “I don’t act like I’m better than you. It’s you who acts like you’re better than me.”

  “I am better than you,” I say sweetly.

  He blinks and I laugh at his stunned expression. “Just kidding. I’ll try to be nice if you agree to do the same. Deal?”

  He nods his agreement but his face is still dark and wary.

  I hold out my hand and he grabs it and shakes it.

  A strange thrill runs up my arm. I jerk my arm back, suddenly aware of how close he is to me. He keeps on staring at me as if he is seeing me for the first time and I realize that it is unlikely for someone like Tamara to suddenly become a pleasant person. Batting my eyelashes innocently, I say something to get his motor running. “So, tell me again about how difficult it is to clean six stalls in four hours. Because it looks like I cleaned thirteen in the same amount of time.”

  Chapter 13

  Cass

  One by one, we bring all the horses back into the barn until they are all in their stalls except Thunder, who refuses to allow Lars to put a halter on him. He runs around the pasture and comes close enough only to tease him.

  “Do you need help with him?” I ask.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” he says in a long-suffering tone.

  I make my way to him and grab the halter from his hand. He gives me a dirty look but continues shaking the bucket of grain. Thunder charges in our direction. Lars jumps in front of me and the horse immediately halts in his tracks about twenty yards away and shakes his head.

  “For God’s sake, you’re scaring him. Now move,” I say, and push at the wall of muscle. It doesn’t budge an inch.

  He gives me an irritated look and takes a step back.

  “Thank you,” I say with excessive politeness before turning toward the horse. “Here, Thunder,” I call softly.

  Keeping a close eye on Lars, he starts wandering in our direction, snorting with each step.

  “Why does the damned horse listen to you? You’re not even a trainer,” Lars mutters. Thunder stands before me and shoves his snout under my armpit.

  “Good boy,” I coo, pleased beyond measure that he seems to prefer me to Lars.

  Lars takes a step toward him and the stallion immediately lifts his head and paws the ground with his right hoof.

  “Seriously, Lars. Just stay back,” I say, barely able to keep the satisfaction out of my voice.

  Glowering, Lars walks backward.

  “How do I do this?” I ask.

  From a few feet away, Lars explains how to place a halter around a horse’s head. Fortunately, the lead rope is already attached, so I exclude that step and pull the halter up behind Thunder’s ears. To my surprise, it seems as if the stallion has no problem being handled.

  “This makes no sense,” Lars grumbles. “He used to be a racehorse so he should let anyone handle him.”

  “Why don’t you just leave the halter on him when he’s in the pasture?” I suggest. “I’m pretty sure that’s what they do in movies.”

  He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “We’ve tried every type of halter out there and he always manages to get them off.”

  I pet Thunder’s face and smile at him. “He seems to be doing fine with me. I can’t understand why you have such a hard time with him,” I deliberately gloat.

  “Well, if he’s so cooperative with you, why don’t you try to lead him?” he asks snidely.

  Thunder takes a step back when I take his lead, but I pat his cheek gently and give a small tug on his lead rope. To my delight, he follows obediently.

  Lars groans and marches off into the barn while I laugh out loud.

  When we make it to his stall, I look at the narrow entrance with confusion. How am I supposed to get him inside without going in first?

  “Lead him in and turn so that you’re beside the door. Then take off the halter and the lead rope,” Lars explains.

  I do exactly as he instructs and exit the stall. Thunder neighs happily and I smile up at Lars.

  Lars looks down at me, his mouth tilted up on one side. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  I shake my head, my body filling with a warm glow of happiness.

  “Nobody here has been able to tame him yet. We were going to have to put him down if he wouldn’t cooperate. You just saved that horse.”

  I smile and rub my hands together. “All in a day’s work,” I say with a broad, happy smile.

  There is reluctant admiration in his eyes. “So, are you ready to start your riding lessons?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say with a great grin, and for the first time since meeting him, he gives me a genuine smile. It lights up his whole face.

  Ohh…totally sexy!

  There is a moment of awkward silence then he moves toward one of the stalls.

  “We’ll start with mounting Misty,” he says, guiding a brown mare in my direction. I bounce on my toes with excitement and reach a hand toward the animal, but it is so placid it barely acknowledges my presence.

  “How difficult is this part?” I ask, thinking back to all the horse movies I watched as a child.

  “It’s the easiest thing I’ll be teaching you. How’s your balance?”

  “Balance? Just fine,” I lie. Balance is not something that comes easily to me. I had more evidence of my lack of it when I was trying to walk in Tamara’s four-inch heels.

  “Good. That will make this much easier,” he says.

  I stand back as Lars ties the horse’s lead rope to a post and lays a blanket on the horse's back before tossing a saddle over it. He nudges the horse’s front hoof forward and begins connecting the straps. He turns to me and raises an eyebrow.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You have to take care of your horse for a month. You may want to
know how to do this.”

  I take a few small steps in his direction until I’m so close to him I can feel the heat coming from his body. The horse snorts and I lay my hand on its back instinctively. Lars grabs my wrist with his gloved hand and I stare at how big and powerful it looks compared to mine.

  He places the strap in my hand. “Tie the back cinch to the one on the other side,” he instructs. He releases my wrist and it feels suddenly strange and empty.

  I do as he asks.

  “Make sure that it's tight. We don’t want the saddle to flip halfway through our lesson.”

  I tighten it slightly more.

  He frowns. “Tighter.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her,” I protest.

  Lars laughs, takes the strap, and pulls it harder than I would have ever done. “You won’t hurt her. She’s our training horse. She's used to being saddled. Besides, it is almost impossible to make the straps too snug, somehow it always ends up being too loose after a while.”

  He finishes tightening the cinches—as he calls them—and I observe carefully, taking mental notes of the process and the way his muscles tighten beneath his shirt with every twitch of his body. When he lifts his arms to put the halter on the horse, his shirt catches on the saddle and the glowing ripped muscles of his abdomen show. I can’t help but stare at them in amazement. How does someone look this magnificent and be so totally unaware of their own beauty?

  “Tamara?” It takes me a moment to realize that he’s speaking to me.

  “Yeah,” I respond in a dreamy tone. My eyes travel slowly upward. That dip in his throat is just begging to be licked. Then my eyes collide with his and there is a knowing look in his. Shit! My face burns with shame. This is so not like me. Why am I behaving like some sex-starved nympho? I clear my throat and stand a little straighter. “I’m ready to begin,” I squeak.

  “I’m sure you are,” he retorts with a smirk.

  “Are we going to start? I’m getting sick of standing in here and smelling the horses,” I say rudely. The barn does hold the undeniable stench of animals, but I don’t mind. I just need an excuse to stop this awkward moment where I’ve stupidly revealed my attraction.