Page 10 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
Before I lived in the penthouse, I lived in a 13,000-square-foot mansion upon my mother’s insistence. I moved out when we parted ways, and when I cut her off financially, she lost the means to keep up with the payments and eventually lost it.
“I know, but I don’t really plan on leaving Iron Stallion, so I probably won’t run into her.”
My plan is to lay low for the next three months, enjoy some peace and quiet, and hopefully try to mend things with Zane.
“What if she catches wind that you’re there?” Lou counters.
“I’ll talk to the Morgans and ask them to keep her away.”
“I don’t mean to get in the middle of family issues, but don’t you think you should at least talk to her? She seems to have changed,” she suggests.
“Lou, the day that woman changes, it’ll rain candy. Why haven’t you blocked her at this point?”
“She is my former boss. I owe her my career,” she defends.
“You owe her nothing. You earned the spot of my manager all on your own. She was the one who messed up,” I assure her.
Her face lights up. “Thank you for saying that.”
I bump her shoulder, giving her an encouraging smile. Without Lou, I would have crumbled long ago, so I’m glad she stepped up when I cut ties with my mom.
She relents and lets the mother topic die. I haven’t had breakfast yet, so I reach for a water bottle and a pack of crackers from the basket in front of me with an assortment of drinks and snacks. All of a sudden, the smile on Lou’s face drops, and I brace myself for the incoming lecture.
“I know I agreed to ease up and not check up on you every day, but you have to promise me to eat,” she asserts.
“I eat,” I defend with an eye roll.
“Water, crackers, coffee, and chips do not count,” she scolds.
I look at the water bottle in hand, my fist tightening around it. “I’m trying.”
A gentle hand squeezes my arm comfortingly. “I know you are, but I don’t want a repeat of what happened in Miami.”
“It was one time,” I defend, recalling that dark moment from two months ago with a pinch in my heart.
I didn’t mean for it to happen. I relapsed, and before I realized it, I was too far gone. Thankfully, Lou was there as she always is, picked me up, and helped me get better.
“One time too many. Eat, please, and take better care of yourself,” she pleads.
“I will, Lou. I promise,” I assure her.
“Thank you,” she nods and opens the water bottle for me, replacing the crackers with an energy bar. “I had plans to have meals delivered to the penthouse three times a day and demand before and after pictures of all completed meals, but since you will no longer be in my care, I expect you to take better care of yourself,” she insists.
Her threats are serious, but they make me laugh nonetheless. “Calm down, Lou. I hear you—I’ll eat.”
“You better.”
The car falls silent as I drink my water and munch on the energy bar. I roll down the window, which earns me a disapproving look from Lou, but all I want is some wind on my face.
The chauffeur drops me off at a private airfield, where one of the Morgan family’s private jets—a sleek black Gulfstream III—awaits me.
Lou whistles, impressed, as we get out of the car. “You know, when they said they were sending you a private jet, I had no idea what I was expecting, but it was definitely not this.”
“The Morgans own one of the biggest ranches in Texas. It’s been in the family for generations, so they’re pretty well off,” I explain, still amazed how a rich girl like Ella became friends with a poor immigrant girl like me.
The chauffeur retrieves my bags from the trunk, and the flight attendants are quick to help me with them. I turn to Lou, who’s already teary.
“Have a safe flight, take care of yourself, eat, and please keep me updated. I’ll worry. This will be the longest we’ve been apart,” she says, pulling me in for a hug.
