WRECKER: A Bad Boy Cowboy Romance (A steamy billionaire romance story) (12 page)

W
atching Kanen walk
out of a room has become one of my greatest pleasures. The way his ass looks in those jeans is a work of art. I’m sure it could even inspire Michelangelo, it’s so perfect. But when he leaves, I realize just how much my feet are stinging. I sit up on the incredibly soft bed and turn one sole up to look at it. It’s looking even worse. Some of the blisters are now weeping. I don’t know how I could possibly manage to really walk on them for at least a week.

And now I’m in Kanen’s apparently huge mansion. I hope he doesn’t mind if I’m stuck here for a little while as they heal. If there’s any luck in the world the aloe will work like a dream, and I won’t have to impose on him.

I try to get up to go to the bathroom, figuring I can maybe walk on the outsides of my feet to avoid touching the soles to his gorgeous but probably painful hardwood floor, and it’s absolute torture. Still, I don’t want him to have to carry me back and forth, so I clutch everything I can on the way and make it to the toilet.

The bathroom is pretty huge, which normally would be a positive thing, but now every step is a bigger challenge than even walking in those heels were. I finally am able to plop my butt down and admire the room. It’s made of some kind of black stone, and there’s a beautiful walk-in shower, and a vanity with two sinks. I wonder who the second one was intended for?

When I’m done, I wash my hands and hobble back to the bed, sinking down onto it gratefully.

Kanen comes in, a handful of aloe in his hands, and sits on the floor in front of me. Seeing him administer so carefully to my feet is bringing out a whole other side to him. Kanen, the Wrecker, the man who defended my honor and his own in my restaurant, now carefully cutting open the thick fleshy leaves and gently dripping the cool liquid onto my wounds, is a sight to behold.

He presses the insides of the leaves to my flesh, and the relief is almost immediate. I sigh heavily.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his eyebrows coming together in the middle.

“Actually the opposite,” I say. “It’s the first time my feet haven’t hurt in a while. It’s a real relief.”

He grabs my hand and kisses it.

“I’m glad,” he says, and then goes right back to smoothing the cooling sap on my blisters.

* * *

T
he next week
passes in the most delightful way. Kanen completely welcomes me into his house, and when he is not taking care of me, he has his staff do so. I’d wondered what he meant when he said someone had made our steak and potato salad that day, and now I know. Kanen has a cook who prepares all the meals. He asked me my preferences and gave them to the cook, and every meal has been better than the last.

Every night, and if I’m honest, every afternoon, is better than the last as well. Sex with Kanen is beyond hot and sexy. That’s not to say he’s not blowing my mind physically—he is.

He’s taken me in so many ways, in so many positions, but all the while I’ve felt closer to him. He looks deep into my eyes as he penetrates me, or his hands are caressing me as he pounds into my body. We writhe together, getting as close as we can, unable to release each other for even a moment. One time turns into another and another, as he hardens again while he’s still inside me and he claims me again for his own.

My feet are better every day as the aloe vera does its magic. I’m able to put a little more and a little more pressure on them, slowly walking a bit more upright. Kanen took to calling me “penguin” after he said how I made my way to the bathroom, but it beats being carried every time.

During the day he sits with me outside at the pool, and I sometimes dangle my feet in the cool water, and we hang out together.

I’ve been ignoring my texts from Lacey for the most part. I just really don’t want to hear about how I’m doing everything wrong when I’m having the time of my life here with Kanen. I told her I was okay, and busy, and that I’d call her soon, but didn’t answer any of her questions. Thinking about how she must be dying for more information, I have to smile after the way she tortured me, but I’ll put her out of her misery soon enough. I figure I’ll be able to go home tomorrow and take good care of myself, and we’ll see what happens then.

“Hey, babe,” says Kanen, as I stick my phone in my pocket. “Would you like another drink?” He holds up a pitcher of fruity sangria that Michael, his chef, brought out to us.

“Sure, thank you so much,” I say. I could get pretty used to this.

I better get out of here before I do
, I think as I sip the sweet liquid.

* * *

T
he next day
, Kanen drops me off at my place at my request. I thought about it all night, and decided I better not stay longer.

“You know, I’m uh... gonna miss you,” he says into my hair as he hugs me goodbye.

“Are you kidding?” I say. “A surprise guest for a week, and you’re going to miss me?” I wink at him. The truth is that I’m going to miss him too, a lot. It’s not easy to get so close to someone so that you’re with him at every turn and then be alone, but it’s better for both of us if we have some time to ourselves, I think. Besides, what’s the alternative? Moving in with Kanen? No, it’s time to go. I probably shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did.

Still, it’s proving hard to let him go. His strong embrace is echoed by mine, and I bury my face in his chest for one last moment before I look up and he bends to kiss me.

“I’m going to miss you too,” I murmur when our lips part.

“Chastity, you’re the sweetest,” he grins. And then he taps me on the butt. “All right, I better go get ready. I have to ride tonight.”

“You be careful, now.”

“You know I will.” His smile becomes devilish. “But not too careful! That ain’t no fun.”

I try my best not to hobble too much on the way back to my door. He gave me a few aloe leaves so that I could keep up the treatment on my feet, but honestly, it’s much better. The reason it’s a bit uncomfortable to walk now is because the skin is new and tender, not because of the burns.

As I grab my key out of my purse, I flip the lid of the mailbox and grab the small stack of mail that accumulated when I was gone. I stick it under my arm, wave goodbye as Wrecker honks, and hobble upstairs to my apartment.

I toss the mail on the table as my phone beeps. It’s a text.

“Hey stranger, are you free today?” It’s Lacey. I guess I am. I write her back. “Wanna meet me for a drink?”

“If you can come over,” I say. “I’m here!”

“See you in ten.”

Before long, she’s sitting at my table as I open a bottle of wine. “What’s this?” she says, holding up an envelope.

I take a quick glance. “I dunno, Publisher’s Clearinghouse?” I ask. It looks kind of official, in that weird kind of way.

“I don’t think so,” she says. “Seems a bit more important than that.”

Her voice is sounding a bit concerned, so I walk over.

“Do you think I should open it?” I ask. I have a pang of fear. The return address looks like it’s from the Border Control.

“Well, yeah, if not now, soon,” she says. “Who knows what it is?”

I grab the envelope and hold it up to the light.

“Wait,” says Lacey. “Are you trying to see through your own envelope?” She laughs. “It’s your name on it, you’re allowed to look at it!”

I laugh but the sound is empty. “What do they want with me?” I ask quietly. Then I give it back to her. “You open it,” I say.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she says and smiles at me as she rips open the envelope. She grabs the letter and rips it open, scanning the page. “Huh. It seems like they don’t want you to stay in the US.”

“Uh, you’re joking, right?” I say.

“No, actually. They say your work at the restaurant was illegal, and they want you kicked out.”

“Oh shit.” The cold fingers of dread wrap around my heart. “I guess it was.”

“What?!” Lacey is flabbergasted. “You weren’t allowed to work at the restaurant?”

I pour her some wine. “Well, I guess not officially,” I say. “I’m here as a tourist.” I pause. “But how would they have found out?”

“Shit, Chas, why didn’t you tell me? It’s not like you were desperate for a job.”

“I know, but I guess it didn’t really occur to me. I mean, I know it’s a different country, but a lot of the time it doesn’t seem like one.” I look down at my glass. Shit.

“I don’t know, sometimes you seem like you’re from another planet,” says Lacey. “I hope we haven’t gotten the restaurant in trouble.”

“Should you call them?”

“Fuck, I guess so,” she says, taking out her phone. “Shit, Chastity, how did you get me into this trouble?” She starts dialing.

Leave the US? Just when I’m finding happiness? And losing Kanen for a shitty job that I don’t even need? How can I be that stupid?

“Yes, she got a letter. You guys haven’t heard anything?” Lacey is saying. “Okay, well would you mind letting me know if you get any more information on this? Thanks.” She turns to me. “I guess the restaurant is all right.”

“That’s a relief,” I say. I try to sound cheerful but my voice comes out hollow. “The last thing I’d want to do is get anyone in trouble.”

“Right.” She nervously plays with the stem of her wine glass. “Well I hope it all turns out to be nothing, but I don’t think these are the folks you want to piss off.”

“For sure not.”

We sit there in quiet, and the hopes I’d had for a fun conversation are quickly dying.

Her phone rings again. She glances at it, and I tell her to pick up. “You sure?” she asks. “It’s work.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Lacey starts whispering on the phone, so I get up and go open us a bag of chips. She’s not on the phone for long, and when she hangs up she says, “I’ve got the scoop.”

“What scoop?”

“Why you’re getting targeted.” Her voice is flat.

“Oh my God, what happened?”

“Remember your last day, when you served that guy?”

“I’ve only replayed it in my mind every minute since it happened,” I grin.

“Well the bartender says that that customer, the one who was friends with the owner, and the one...well, you know.”

“That I spilled beer on and Kanen punched, yes, yes,” I say.

“Well it turns out he has friends in Homeland Security.”

I sit down, hitting the chair pretty hard. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“And I guess he was pretty pissed off.” She takes a sip of her wine and sets the glass down. “Remember he said he was going to make you pay?”

I nod slowly. That’s right. He was planning on making both of us pay. I thought they were idle words, but I guess he actually meant it. “He’s playing hardball now.”

“Exactly.” She grabs a chip, but never actually puts it to her mouth. “And he’s pissed. The reason that the restaurant isn’t going to be charged is because he doesn’t want to get the owner in trouble. He just wants you and Kanen to go down.”

“Go down?” My mind is filled with an image of Kanen actually going down when he’s riding. I was the one that mentioned that he was a “bull rider” and not a “buffalo jockey.” I wonder if he’s going to try to screw Kanen over in the arena somehow. If Kanen “goes down” in the arena, it could mean death.

I
turn on the shower
, pull off my shirt, and let my jeans slide down my legs. As the room begins to fill the steam, I realize how empty my bedroom seems with Chastity gone. She was only here a week, and it wasn’t the easiest week for her, but it seems so natural having her with me. I do miss her. And that sucks.

As I step into the shower and let the hot water cascade down my shoulders, part of me just wants to wash my hands of the whole relationship. It’s just one small part, granted, but it’s a strong part. It’s the part of myself that I keep hidden, because of the way it’s been treated every time I’ve let it out. I know that she’s seen it, and she’s been good with it so far, but I don’t think it can bear to be broken anymore.

The shower fills with the rich smell of the sudsy shampoo I’m using. I smooth it over my hair, and rinse it out, then turn and let the full blast shower spray over my face.

Tonight, I’m riding a new bull, and I’ve heard he’s a mean one. They say it’s a little early for him to be let out into the rodeo. He’s full of piss and vinegar, and a hell of a lot of testosterone. But that’s just the kind of animal that the crowd loves. They don’t want to see an old broken-down bull. And as I bend to wash my legs and feet, the little aches and pains in my body remind me that soon I’m going to be that old broken-down bull that nobody wants to go see.

Well, at least tonight I’m going to have the support of the kids from the shelter. They’re always excited to see me. And, like Canada, I know it’s for me and not for the money I can make for them. I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t hang up my cowboy boots and say goodbye to this career. It might be nice to wash it off just like I’m washing this dirt from my skin.

Still, it was nice to have that girl here. I didn’t feel so alone, tumbling around this big old house by myself. Always someone to talk to, someone to hold me, someone to hold. Might be nice to start thinking about having a normal life. Maybe a kid or two. Is Chastity the girl?

I squirt some conditioner in my hair and rinse it out quickly. When I get out of the shower, I feel like a new man. Lots of thoughts running through my head, and hopefully down the drain. Tonight’s an important ride for me and I got to keep all my faculties about me. I can’t be thinking about anything other than staying on that bull just as long as I can.

* * *

W
hen I get
to the arena, my boys are waiting. Jack called me from Philly to wish me luck as well. The other cowboys are milling around, their nerves under strict control, their lips tight and the jaws set.

Only my friend Bill is sounding upbeat and jocular. “You ready for this new bull?” he asks. “You ready to wreck another one, Wrecker?”

“You know it,” I answer. It doesn’t really matter how I feel now; it’s all about those seconds that last for years—that time on the animal’s back. It will matter how I feel then, and only then. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I hear that,” Bill says. “People are saying it’ll be a night to remember.”

“I figure we should be remembering all our nights,” I say, thinking of Chastity. I don’t think I’ll ever forget those moments with her. And if I’m lucky, there’ll be lots more to come.

I can hear the stands filling up above us, all the cowboy boots making their way into the pews of their makeshift church for the night. And I’m their Savior.

I wonder if Chastity’s going to come tonight. I told her she didn’t have to, as it’s her first night back home and I know she’s not fully healed. But I would be surprised if I get on the bull and when I search the seats, she’s not there.

I peek my head out into the crowd, and the energy’s building not only in me, but in them. There’s something I love about the feeling just before it all gets started. It’s like everybody is coming together, anticipating something real. Now whatever is happening in their regular lives, fast food places, the corporate offices, or even a ballgame, all of that can be fixed. At the rodeo, there is no faking, because it’s only man and the animal. An animal can’t lie, or plot. It’s just going to fight, try to win, and that’s real. Of course, there’s always redneck yahoos out there who don’t give a shit about anything but drinking beer, getting in fights, getting loud. But those aren’t the people I do it for, if I do it for anybody but myself.

Tonight, I’m going to do it for the kids. I’m going to try to live up to their perception of me, which ain’t going to be easy. Forget this new bull, it might be the toughest job yet.

* * *

I
’m hovering
above him now, with mere seconds before he is going to shoot out into the arena. This is it, the final moment. My nose is full of the animal’s war scent, and it’s a bit different than the last one. The announcer’s revving up, and with them my heartbeat. He’s just about to shout out my name when the bull suddenly bucks and cries out. They were right, I’ve got a real live one here. He’s young and green, and angry. When they drop me on him, that’s when I see it. There’s a small dart in his back haunch. It’s like a tranquilizer dart, but I’ll be damned if there’s tranquilizer in that.

The bull takes off, faster than any animal I’ve ridden before. I’m almost bucked off in the first second out, but then I realize how hopped up this animal must be, and my senses luck on to him as best as they can. I try to join our minds together, and give him some peace in his frantic, frightened flight, but he’s too wild. Too young, too drugged up.

No, this animal is beyond real. This animal has been sabotaged. Or more accurately, I have. It’s all I can do to keep ahold of him as his 2200 pounds go haywire. The crowd’s sounds are not helping either. This animal is terrified. I can just imagine the looks on the kids’ faces, at first excited, and then scared for me. It’s hard for me to admit, but I’m also scared for me. I don’t know if I can survive this ride.

I anticipate the bull’s shift to the right and the left, his jump, his buck. My legs are his legs. But it takes every ounce of my energy and sensitivity and strength. It’s taking more than I have to spare. I know that the bull is going to win, he always does, but this time he wins before I even know it. I’m thrown to the ground before it’s possible for me to react, to protect my head, or myself in any way, to roll out of his path. I’m down and I’m dizzy.