Life in the Fast Lane: A BBW Erotic Novella (Western Romance, Billionaire Cowboy, Curvy Girls) (5 page)

I tried to think rationally. The more I thought about it, I knew I could trust Wyatt—errr,
Lane
. Every now and then I glanced over at him. Finally, I caught his eye, and he shot me a quick, subtle wink. I guess our secret would stay between us; that private moment of bliss that only we knew about, the moment where I’d given into temptation and let that cocky cowboy have his way with me.

It was complicated, but if I’m being honest, I hoped it would happen again. There were still months to go before the Derby. I’d be at the ranch, and Lane knew that. If he wanted me,
I was here for the taking
.

In the end, I was pretty confident he’d be coming back for more. The next time I caught his eye, I smiled at him naughtily.
Oh yeah, he’d be back for more, alright
.

Throughout the meeting, I couldn’t help but think about the time I’d spent with Lane the night before. I slid my hand off the table and into my lap, rubbing it gently up my thigh, trying to re-imagine his touch.

I’d need to be careful not to moan, not to let on to anyone else at the table that I was living a fantasy, daydreaming rough sex as I sat in the dining room talking business.
What a dirty little secret
. I closed my eyes to imagine it more vividly. Lane just drove me wild like that.

“Adelaide, what do you think about this?
Adelaide?
”

I snapped back to the present moment to find Jim waving his hand eagerly in front of my face.

“Huh?
What?
” I asked. “Sorry.”

“What do you think about the new timeline? Do you agree with Jim that Fast Lane can keep up with this schedule?” asked Don.

I looked up at the slide projected on the wall of the dining room. Don wanted to increase the pace of our training schedule, effectively moving the deadline up by two weeks. I wasn’t sure why Jim had signed off on this; it seemed way too aggressive to be realistic. We didn’t want to push the horse too soon or we might strain him too much and ruin his Derby chances completely.

Glancing sideways at Jim, I could see that he clearly wanted me to say yes.
But why? Was Don pressuring him?
I couldn’t see the rationale behind changing the timeline at this stage of the game. There was still plenty of time and no need to rush. I looked up at the slide once more to confirm its content and then stared directly at Don.

“I think it’s a bit much. I don’t understand the reasoning behind it.”

“Adelaide,” said Jim, turning in his chair to face me. “Don and I both agree that this is the best course of action. I don’t see any reason to hold back now. We’re going for a Derby here.”

“That’s precisely
why
we need to hold back. If you push that horse too hard, he won’t even get
close
to the Derby.”

After I said that, I noticed Don giving me a look like he wanted to murder me. Jim looked nervous and began awkwardly fumbling with the laptop that sat in front of him.

I didn’t say anything else. It was like they had this secret agreement that somehow I wasn’t let in on, like I was some actress who’d showed up on set without memorizing her lines. I gazed around the table at everyone staring back at me and shrugged.

“I think maybe we ought to adjourn this meeting for the time being,” said Don, his voice annoyed.

I could see his face starting to turn red. Lane, on the other hand, was quietly observing the whole conversational exchange. His glance was completely neutral, not even hinting at his thoughts on the matter.

We all got up from the table, the silence around us much too awkward to stick around.
Why was Don giving me the cold shoulder? And why was Jim so uncharacteristically nervous?

Jim and I left the other two in the dining room and pushed our way through the mahogany doors and out into the large hallway. After the door was safely closed behind us, I turned to Jim.

“What was
that
all about?”

“Shh, not here. Wait till we get back to the stable.”

Once we were outside and positive we were out of earshot, Jim turned toward me and stopped me in my tracks.

“That’s was Mr. Matheson’s proposal you just dumped on back there,” he said, a glint of fear in his eyes.

“Wait.
What?
”

“I’m sorry. I meant to tell you about it earlier. We were supposed to coordinate. Don only told me about it last night. It completely slipped my mind. But yes, Mr. Matheson was the one who wanted to fast-track the timeline. He wants that horse ready soon.”

“But Jim, you know it’s a risky move. It’s bad for Fast Lane. It’s bad for our chances of winning the Derby. I don’t care if it’s his idea. Can’t we explain that to Wyatt?”

“To who?” asked Jim, confused.

“To
Mr. Matheson
,” I said, trying to cover my slip-up.

Lane, Wyatt, Mr. Matheson
. I felt like I knew him by so many names that it was becoming a chore trying to make sure I used the right one in the right situation.

“Explain it to him? Addie, haven’t you heard the stories about him? Haven’t you heard about the people who get fired for disagreeing with him? I know that rushing the timeline isn’t the best option, but if it’s what he
wants
I’m going to give it to him.”

“Those are just rumors. The firings, all that. We’re the experts, Jim. That’s why he hired us,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders. “We need to give some pushback on this.”

“I can’t risk it,” said Jim, ashamed and averting his eyes towards the ground. “He’s paying me a hell of a lot of money, Addie. I’ve got kids about to go to college soon. I’ve got responsibilities. There’s a lot riding on this for me. I just can’t risk crossing him.”

Those last words disappointed me. This wasn’t the Jim I knew.
How could he be saying this? What about the integrity of our work?
I swear, this never should have even been a consideration, period.

We should have nipped it in the bud on the first day when Don had dragged us into the dining room and told us about the “strategic oversight.” Jim had tried to get them to see it his way; he’d told Don he needed autonomy. But ultimately he’d backed down and now we were paying a heavy price.

I walked away from Jim, needing desperately to calm myself down. I simply couldn’t look at him I was so damn angry. We were the
experts
, the
trainers
. Lane had hired us to do the job for him. Why did we have to tiptoe around him just because of his
big billionaire freaking ego!

I went over to brush Fast Lane. If I didn’t love this horse so much or believe in our chances for the Derby, I might have quit at that very moment. But I figured I should just suck it up and deal with it. We’d worked with touchy clients before. I knew I could manage if I had to. But for right now, I wasn’t saying anything.

Jim came over to me, but he could tell I didn’t want to talk. We worked next to each other in strained silence, thinking our separate thoughts.

About half an hour later, Don came walking into the stables. His face was bent into an uncompromising scowl. He looked annoyed, but his voice was one of cold neutrality.

“Mr. Matheson wants to see you in his office,” he said sternly.

He was looking directly at me.

“Me?” I asked, tapping a finger against my chest.

“Yes.”

I looked over at Jim, whose face showed concern and maybe even a little bit of anxiety over what was about to happen to me. It was seeing that fearful look on Jim’s face that made me start anticipating the worst.

When I’d first come out of our earlier meeting, I was heated and ready to assert myself. I was even secretly proud of myself that I’d had the courage to speak my mind in front of all those men. But now I was second guessing myself.
Had I crossed Lane? Was I about to be fired?
I suppose I was about to find out.

Jim must have seen me starting to worry, because he walked over to Don and I.

“Don, could you give us a quick second?” he asked.

“Make it quick. I’ll be waiting outside,” said Don gruffly.

Jim waited for Don to leave and then spoke quietly to me.

“Addie, you’re gonna need to apologize if you want to keep your job.”

I looked down at the ground. I
hated
this. I knew I was right about what I’d said.
Was I prepared to give up my integrity just to save my job?
Jim held me by the shoulders and shook me slightly, trying to get me to pick my face up and look him in the eyes. I brought my gaze up from the ground to make eye contact with him.

“Addie, tell me you’re going to apologize.”

“I—”

“I’m serious, Addie. My job could be riding on this, too. Don’t let your pride get in the way.”

“I promise I won’t get you fired, Jim. Now let me go.”

Jim stepped back and watched, his hands in his pockets, as I walked out of the stable and into the bright sunlight of midday Texas. Don was waiting outside the stable door.

“I trust I don’t have to impress upon you the gravity of the situation,” he said, looking straight forward as we walked slowly towards the mansion.

I didn’t answer, but continued trudging through the dust of the path that led from the stable to the sweeping front steps. My heart was beating fast again. I was afraid of facing Lane by myself. He had this power over me that was hard to explain.

Besides, what sort of mind game was he playing? He’d fucked me and now he was going to do me like this?
But the more I thought about this idea, the more it made me downright infuriated. On the outside, I remained calm, but inside I was fuming. All of the sudden any worry or concern I’d previously had turned into righteous indignation.
Hell if he’d fire me. There wasn’t a damn chance of that.

I matched Don’s steady pace as he lead me to an area of the mansion I’d never seen before, way up on the top floor of the left wing of the house. He told me to wait outside of two large wooden doors. He knocked and went in. I could hear him explaining to Lane that I was waiting outside.

“Send her in,” Lane said, his voice drifting muffled through the crack between the doors.

The doors parted, streaming light into the dim hallway as Don came back out.

“He’s ready to see you. Head on in.”

I walked inside and heard Don immediately slam the doors shut behind me, almost as if to trap me in the lion’s den.

The room was absolutely enormous. To call it an office was a bit of a misnomer. I felt like I was in a damn
library
. Shelf after shelf of books, large brown leather couches, dueling fireplaces, and even a staircase that led up to a sort of look out area; a small, second floor balcony in front of a large set of windows.

I didn’t immediately see Lane when I walked in. He was hovering by the back window behind his desk, smoking a cigar and staring out the window at his ranch.

The view from this height was expansive, capturing the rolling hills of his property and extending out towards a wooded area and the canyon beyond. It seemed like a good place for him to think, about business deals and about life. Maybe it was his favorite place to fire people, too, I thought with an air of defiant cynicism.

“Lane,” I said, my voice tense and sharp.

He turned around slowly, an amused look on his face. He checked me out, looking me up and down, undressing me with his eyes, but saying nothing. He took another puff on his cigar.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve,
Mister
,” I said angrily, walking towards him with my hands on my hips.

I stood rebelliously in front of his desk, staring him down, trying to make my face as mean as possible. Lane just took another puff of his cigar and then rested it in an ashtray on his desk. Then he walked over to a bar by the window and took the top off a glass decanter, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. Clean, no ice.

He glanced back at me.

“You having one?” he asked casually.

“No,” I said. “I’ve got work to do. Unlike
some
people.”

Lane took a sip and sighed.

“That hurts, Adelaide. You really think I don’t do any work?”