Page 16 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
I had value. I had pride. And I had earned everything I had gained along the way.
So Stone and Toddrick and Constance and every other silver spoon, prep school, yacht club, trust fund jerk could take their nepotism and shove it!
That job wasmine.
* * * *
My alarm went off. I triple checked it this time.
Still, I woke up every hour or so all night long, just to be sure.
Today was a brand-new day, and I was going to make the most of it.
Hopping out of bed, I entered the bathroom and enjoyed every inch of that giant shower. I scrubbed from head to toe, headed back to the bedroom to see what Moira had provided for me.
It was as bad as I had anticipated. The names on the clothes were ones I only ever saw in store windows and on Kardashian Instagram pages. But still, I had no other option.
Selecting what I thought was the simplest and therefore least expensive option, I packaged the rest up again. I would have Moira return them later today. There was no need for all those things when my own clothes could be arriving any day now.
At least, I hoped they would be arriving.
But even if I never saw my suitcase again, I could go shopping and find some reasonable items to wear. I would lament the loss of the Jimmy Choo pumps, though. I frowned, wishing I had taken the time to at least try them on when mom presented them to me yesterday.
Putting on the plain black dress pants and simple pale blue button up blouse, I finished my hair and used the mascara and lip gloss that was included with the other items. I refused to use any of the other make up, however. I thought sixty-three dollars an ounce was a ridiculous amount of money to pay for foundation. I simply couldn’t bring myself to even open it.
Sliding my feet back into the flats I had worn from Queens, I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and made my way out of the room and back down stairs to the kitchen.
Stone sat at the island, his suit jacket over the stool next to him, coffee in hand as he scrolled through his phone. He looked like a GQ cover model, and I hated that I thought he was handsome. Distressingly so. His dark hair and square jaw looked even more pronounced without the cowboy hat, although that was a look I appreciated as well. The sight of him sitting at the island, so casually, was doing weird things to my insides. It took more effort than I wanted to admit to keep my eyes off of his striking profile as I entered the kitchen and went about my morning, trying to ignore the low hum of attraction buzzing under my skin.
Making my way to the coffee machine, I selected a pod and inserted it. Placing a mug below and waiting for my drink, looking at him out of the corner of my eye as I did so. I didn’t want to even acknowledge his presence, seeing as he seemed determine to ignore mine today. Just as well; we clearly had nothing to say to each other.
When the machine finished, I took my mug and moved again to the back door, taking in the spectacular view once again. In the early morning light, the hills appeared much darker, their low peaks soaked in crimson and the gnarled shrubs appearing almost black. I breathed deeply, letting the view and the smell of hot coffee fill me with energy for the day. I took a sip, never taking my eyes off the incredible vista, and heard the legs of the stool scrape back against the tiles as Stone stood up from the kitchen island. I watched his reflection in the glass door as he moved to the sink and I was surprised to see he was rinsing his own mug. He then shocked me further when he placed it in the dishwasher before heading upstairs, never once looking in my direction.
Not giving him another thought, I finished my own coffee, cleaned up my mess, and stopped at the fridge to grab an apple before gathering my purse and heading for the door behind the kitchen. Part of the package Moira gave me at the office yesterday included instructions to using the car that was kept in the garage. I grabbed the keys from the hook as I passed.
Stepping into the garage, my nerves picked up. Sure, I had a driver’s license, but that was only a technicality. I had gotten it years ago in my high school drivers ed class. I renewed it every five years like I was supposed to, but I hadn’t actually driven in almost nine years. Owning a car in New York was about as useful as owning snow shoes in Florida.
The car in question was beautiful. A sweet cherry red Mustang convertible, the top already down, the gorgeous tan leather seats on display. I moved around to the drivers’ side and climbed in, careful not to smack the door into the large pickup truck parked beside me. After taking my time adjusting the seats and mirrors, I put the key into the ignition and turned.
Nothing happened.
I took the key out and reinserted it, turning again like I remembered to do, my foot on the brake pedal. Still nothing. This was bad. I didn’t have enough time to call a cab if I wanted to make it to the office on time. Sighing in defeat, I dropped my forehead down on to the steering wheel, jumping when the car horn let out a quick blast.
“Having a problem?” drawled a voice from my right. I looked over to see Stone, now wearing his suit jacket, leaning against the door to the house, a smirk on his stupidly handsome face as he reveled in my failure once again.
“Not a problem,” I said defensively, straightening up and turning the key a third time. Still nothing. “Not one I can’t handle, anyway.” I said, exiting the car and reaching for my phone. Maybe Uber was faster?
“Let me guess,” Stone said, moving into the garage and stepping up to me, trapping me between the two vehicles. “You can’t drive.” He looked down his nose at me, like I should be ashamed.
I was not.
“I most certainly can drive,” I countered, not backing down one bit. “It has just been a while, that’s all. I’m fully qualified to operate a motor vehicle.” I was rambling, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Sure looks like it, Blondie.” He stepped even closer to me, and I backed up before our chests touched. I was breathing hard, staring into his bright hazel eyes, trying not to let any emotions show on my face. Not my embarrassment at being once again found lacking, not my discomfort at being so close to him when he looked and smelled so good I could hardly think straight, and not my slight fear of being alone with him when he so clearly didn’t like me in the least.
He continued walking toward me, and I continued backing up, when he suddenly grabbed the door handle of the pick up truck, opening it wide. “Get in.”
I stared at him questioningly, a frown between my eyebrows, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Look,” he said, releasing a long-suffering sigh. “I’m going to the office. You’re going to the office. You can either stay here all morning trying to figure out the difference between the brake and the clutch, or you can get in this truck and come with me. The choice is yours, but I ain’t waiting all day for you to make up your mind.”
