The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (+Wicked Bond [5]) Read online

  "I'm not sure. My dad will be gearing up for reelection next year. Maybe I'll stick around and work on his campaign."

  "It makes sense," he says after spearing a few chunks of pancake on his fork. "You of the two poli-sci degrees."

  I duck my head to hide my pleased smile. That he remembers what my degrees are in. After graduating from Duke with my political science bachelor's degree, I went on and completed their master's program while Will went to law school at Duke. My dream had been to go to DC and work in the Senate or House as an aide, or maybe even try my hand at lobbying, but Will wanted to move back home to Connecticut and go into private practice, and so... I lamely followed him.

  And you know what the value of poli-sci degrees are in suburbia?

  About zero dollars.

  Therefore, I worked thirty-five hours a week as an event planner in a business owned by the wife of one of Will's partners.

  Woolf's phone rings, and he shoots me an apologetic look just before he answers it, "Jennings."

  I watch as he pushes his plate away and leans forward. One forearm on the table, the other raised to press the phone to his ear. His eyes roam around the restaurant lazily, not really seeing anything because I can tell he's carefully listening to whoever is on the other end.

  Finally, he says, "Yeah... that was supposed to have been mailed out to you week before last. I just assumed you received it."

  He listens a bit more, then looks over at me and makes a writing motion with his hand. I immediately dip into my purse, pull out a pen, and push a napkin across the table at him. He scrawls something that's practically illegible and says, "Okay... got it. I'll mail it myself as soon as I get back to the Double J."

  When Woolf disconnects, he looks flustered as he takes the napkin and tucks it into his shirt pocket. "Sorry about that. I just need to send myself a quick email so I don't forget about something when I get back to my office."

  "No problem," I say as I watch him over my coffee cup. I wait for him to send the email and when he looks back up at me, I tilt my head to the side and ask, "Don't you have a secretary or something to handle that stuff?"

  Woolf snorts as he lays his phone back down and picks his fork back up. "I have a secretary who works at the main office of JennCo in Cheyenne, but I can't seem to find a local one to keep me straight. I think I've been through five different ones already this year."

  "Slave driver," I tease.

  "No, seriously... I'm a pretty easygoing boss. I just hire shitty people without a work ethic."

  "Well, I'm not doing anything. I'll help you out if you want."

  Woolf freezes with a forkful of buckwheat cakes to his mouth and just stares at me in contemplation. But then he lowers the fork and his eyes right along, and says, "No. I don't think that's a good idea."

  "Why not?" I press him. "I don't have anything to do, and I'm a fucking whiz at organization. I've kept my father's schedule straight during his campaigns, and shit Woolf... I was a fucking event planner in Connecticut. I hated it, but I was damn good. I've got skills at least."

  He blinks at me hard and doesn't say a word.

  "What?" I ask defensively.

  "Just that filthy mouth you've developed," he says softly. "It's very anti-Callie."

  "I'm not the same girl you once knew," I tell him firmly. Well, I really was, but I aimed to change that. So far I've entered a wet t-shirt contest and mastered the word "fuck". I'm quite proud of myself so far.

  Woolf scrubs his hand thoughtfully over his stubbled chin. Seriously, did this guy ever shave? It seems he always has just the perfect amount of whiskers to make him look even ten times sexier than normal.

  "I'll pay you twenty dollars an hour, thirty hours a week," he says bluntly. "Oh, and buy a coffee pot for the office when you come in tomorrow."

  And just like that... I had a job.

  Working for Woolf Jennings.

  Life is good.

  Chapter 5

  Woolf

  Two things assault me when I open my main office door at the Double J.

  They happen almost simultaneously, yet one is just a few seconds before the other.

  The deliciously deep and rich scent of dark roast coffee brewing.

  Next, Colton Stokes sitting on the edge of Callie's desk, one long leg planted firmly on the floor, the other resting perilously close to her arm.

  He's gazing down at her in what I know is barely disguised lust, and they're both laughing at something. I shut the door hard and Callie jumps in her seat, turning her head my way. She gives me a cheeky grin and says, "Geez, Woolf... you about gave me a heart attack."

  I don't smile back at her, and I'm an utter dick when I say, "Not surprised. What with your attentions focused elsewhere."

  I say this with a great deal of employer censure, and her face flushes. "Sorry. Colton was just telling me a joke. He's here for your ten AM meeting."

  Nodding curtly at her, I walk over to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup. I silently will myself to get under control, but fuck... that just started my morning off shitty watching them laugh together. Colton wants in her pants, no doubt about that. Not sure what Callie wants, but I seem to remember they dated in high school. I know he doesn't know her as carnally as I do, but doesn't mean that he won't in the future.

  I risk a quick glance over at them. Colton has stood from her desk and stepped a few feet away.

  But Callie?

  Man... fucking more gorgeous today than she was yesterday. When she showed up for her first day of work just three days ago, she was wearing a pair of jeans, cowboy boots, and a white t-shirt that fit her nicely. She had on a heavy denim jacket as the mornings were still quite chilly and her hair was in a ponytail.

  "Sorry about the attire," she had said without real apology. "I don't have much in the way of clothing here. I plan to try to get some shopping done this afternoon when I get off."

  I assured her that working on a cattle ranch, regardless of whether it was in the saddle or behind a desk, meant jeans were entirely appropriate.

  And yet... the very next day, she showed up in a slim, black skirt that came to just above her knees and a silver-colored blouse that dipped low but didn't reveal anything but shadow. The kicker was a pair of knee-high boots with heels that added a good four inches onto her height and because she's tall, almost put her eye to eye with me. Her hair was stylishly sleek, she had on makeup, and her lips were glossy. She looked like a movie star, and I think my tongue was hanging out of my head all day.

  She's dressed to the nines again today in a form-fitting dress in a dark purple color, and those killer, sexy boots again. As she sits at her desk, I can see a flash of skin above her knees and when I glance back over at Colton, he notices that too.

  Asshole.

  "Let's go, Stokes," I say brusquely and nod my head toward my office.

  Colton follows me in, and I shut the door behind us. By the time he takes a seat opposite my desk, I'm already regretting my tone with him. Colton is a long-standing friend. His family ranches cattle too, and he's a decent guy. On top of that, I really have no business getting between him and Callie, so I try to lighten the mood for all our sake's.

  "Saw your dad in town the other day. He's looking great," I say genially. Clinton Stokes had quadruple bypass surgery at the young age of just fifty-two about six months ago. Colton has been pretty much running things since then.

  Colton smiles and nods his head. "Yeah... he's a tough old coot. Nothing will keep him down for long."

  I laugh and drum my fingers on my desk. "Remember that time he caught us reading his dirty magazines in the bathroom when we were kids? Scared the shit out of me when he chased us around, threatening us with his belt."

  With a bark of a laugh, Colton nods his head. "I was more afraid he'd tell my mom what we were doing."

  We both chuckle over the memory, and I'm satisfied Colton isn't giving any thought to my dick attitude just a few minutes ago. I not only don't want him thinking I have
anything going on with Callie--which I do not--but I also do business with the man and I don't need tensions there.

  I segue into the real reason I asked Colton to come by. "We're headed to auction in a few weeks, but I wanted to ask you about the results of your crossbreeding program."

  He blinks at me in surprise, because while the Stokes know their cattle, they aren't on the same playing field as the Jennings. But he's not giving himself enough credit because I've been hearing some good things about his new crossbreed of Red Angus and Hereford cows.

  Colton gives me a smile and lapses into a long-winded soliloquy of the program. He's only all too happy to share with me as we sell off our excess cattle to his ranch, and we also use their slaughterhouse from time to time for overflow, so he desperately wants to maintain good business relations with Double J. He tells me about the methods they use to breed and continues on to proudly talk about the beef falling well within Angus certification guidelines. He drones on, and while the information is interesting and completely useful to our operations, my mind drifts.

  To Callie.

  She's been a damn godsend in just the few days she's been working for me. She has me entirely organized and for the first time in well, forever, I don't feel as if I'm always in a state of worry that I've forgotten to do something important. She's working with Marta, my secretary at JennCo, and between the two of them, I feel like the weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

  The downside to her working for me is her presence.

  It's maddening. Her scent, her beauty, her voice.

  Nine times out of ten when I'm looking at her, she'd be surprised to know I'm imagining something filthy I want to do to her. Just yesterday, I imagined eating her out while she was splayed out naked on my desk, and only my phone ringing brought me out of that daydream. Which was, by far, one of my tamest.

  Callie would never speak to me again if she ever found out what my dirtiest fantasy with her was. Hell, I feel compelled to slap myself on her behalf just for thinking it.

  Give it up, dude. Not ever going to happen.

  I force myself to listen to Colton and even write down some notes as he talks. After about half an hour, we make arrangements for me to come over and check out his stock. When we're finished, I walk with him to my door but before we get there, he says, "You missed a crazy time at the opening of Bacchanalia the other night."

  Colton is grinning at me slyly.

  And yes, Colton is a member of The Wicked Horse's inner club. He pays a whopping fifty-thousand dollars for a platinum membership, which pretty much gives him access to everything. Twenty-four-seven access to all the buildings, unlimited food and liquor, and registration in our fantasy database that helps to facilitate hookups by matching people according to their level of kink and desires.

  Bridger and I have had to carefully construct our sex club so we don't run afoul of prostitution laws. We employed a team of lawyers to make sure we were legally in compliance of all criminal statutes, and Bridger vets our employees very carefully to make sure they stay in compliance too.

  The law is really quite simple though and easy enough to skirt around.

  Prostitution in Wyoming is when a person performs, permits, offers, or agrees to sex in return for money or property.

  Therefore, we had to make sure the exchange of monies to my company was not in exchange for sex. Rather, it's more of a rental fee on the facilities to make use of however they want. For his fifty-thousand, Colton gets a membership into a private club that offers him a place to socialize with excellent food and liquor, as well as entertainment. If Colton happens to participate in sex when he shows up, that's all his choice. He exchanges no money with his partner or partners, nor does said partner or partners get paid. All people engaging in sex are there because of paid memberships that do nothing more than guarantee them entry into the building, top-shelf liquor, and gourmet food. That includes the few employees from the main club that partake of what the club has to offer. So as not to confuse the payment of money for their bartending or waitressing services, as part of their salary, each of those employees also gets a Silver membership to the sex club. It only gives them access two days a week, but otherwise operates the same as a Platinum membership. So, technically, the employees are not paid for their work in The Silo or one of the cabins, but rather enjoy a much higher salary than most bartenders or waitresses would make as well as a Silver membership.

  The one thing that has caused some troubles for Bridger and me is if a club member is extremely satisfied with the services one of my employees provides and wants to give a tip. We have to shut that shit down fast because that right there is prostitution. No employee of mine can accept monies once they step foot out of the main club, and I will fire them on the spot if I catch it.

  I give a knowing smile to Colton and lower my voice so I ensure Callie can't hear us through the door. I'm purposely vague when I say, "I was there when the party kicked off, but I didn't stay long. Must have missed you."

  That's true enough and if Colton chooses to believe I participated, so be it. But the fact of the matter is I just showed up and gave a little speech about how excited Bridger and I were. I only stayed for about a total of ten minutes, watching Bridger play with a husband and wife who've been members since we opened. Normally, observing Bridger put both a man and a woman on their knees before him and making them take turns sucking his dick would turn me the fuck on, but not that night. For some reason, I just wasn't into it.

  I felt unsettled and unsure of myself for the first time I can ever remember. I ended up going home and watched a basketball game on TV while I drank a beer. I even wondered what it would be like if Callie were there with me, maybe curled up into my side, reading a book.

  Shaking my head because I have no fucking business thinking those things, I grab the doorknob and open the door. I hold my hand out, and Colton shakes it. "Thanks for coming by, man. I'll be out to see you next week as planned."

  "Sure thing, Woolf."

  Turning my back on him, I force myself not to look at Callie sitting at her desk, and walk back to my own. I flip up my calendar to look at my schedule for the rest of the day, pleased to see that after my lunch meeting, I don't have anything else. I think I'll knock off and head over to The Wicked Horse. Stephanie is on duty I think, and I could get a quick fuck in. I think that all I need is to just get laid. It's been going on a full week now since I've had some pussy, and I'm starting to get grumpy about it.

  Yeah, that's what I'll do.

  My mouth curves into a smile, and I give myself a little fist pump of exuberance. I just need to get re-oriented. Shake off all the crazy that came with the return of Callie Hayes.

  "...this little restaurant they just opened up on the main square," I hear Colton saying, and my ears perk up hard.

  "Sounds divine," Callie says.

  "Awesome. Saturday then... I'll pick you up at seven?" Colton says with excitement in his voice.

  Oh, hell fucking no.

  I shoot out of my chair and walk out of the office just as Callie says, "It's a date."

  "What's a date?" I ask casually as I open up the file cabinet behind her desk, rooting around for what the fuck ever.

  "I'm going to take Callie out to that new restaurant in town on Saturday," Colton says with a shit-eating grin.

  I turn from the cabinet with a folder in my hand, no clue what I just grabbed, and give first Colton and then Callie an apologetic look. "Sorry... she has to work this weekend."

  "Doing what?" Callie demands as Colton's face falls.

  "It's branding weekend on the Double J," I say smoothly, immensely grateful that it is, in fact, the weekend we'll be vaccinating, castrating, and branding the spring calves. "It's going to be a busy day for me, and I'll need your help."

  Colton looks at me dubiously because as an owner of a cattle ranch, he knows I really don't have much to do. I mean, sure, I'll participate in some of the branding, but that's just for fun.

&nbs
p; In fact, most ranches treat branding day as a festival of sorts. All the ranch hands and their families will be there. After all the work is done, we'll have events like roping contests and three-legged races for the kids. I've got two hundred pounds of Double J barbeque being cooked with enough potato salad, baked beans, and apple pie to feed an army. Hell, I've even got a band to play and fireworks set up.

  Not a damn thing for me to do other than enjoy it, and while I had been struggling this week on whether or not to invite Callie, that decision just got firmly made all so I could prevent her from going out with Colton.

  I'm such an asshole and yet I can't find it within me to feel guilty about it.

  I don't want her, not in the way I'm sure she wants to be wanted, but I don't want anyone else to have her.

  It's twisted and complex and I should back the fuck off.

  But I'm not.

  "Plan on being out at the Double J about mid-morning, okay Callie?" I say as I look at her. I want to gauge how she feels about me breaking up her date with Colton.

  She gives me a brilliant smile, and I relax. Callie's always loved this type of stuff. She's going to have a blast, and that makes me feel good.

  She then turns that sunny smile to Colton and says, "I'm sorry. Maybe we could go next weekend?"

  And now Colton is smiling brightly at Callie. It's all shining white teeth flashing around the room, and it makes me pissy. I frantically search my brain for something I need her to do next weekend, but I come up empty.

  No matter. I'll figure something out by then.

  "Catch you later, Colton," I say in dismissal and then head back into my office. Colton apparently gets the hint because I hear the front door open and close seconds later.

  Thoughts of fucking Stephanie gone, I shut my door and walk over to the shelf where the architectural drawings for The Wicked Horse are still laying. I pull them out from time to time, survey the surrounding land, and figure out how we can grow bigger. But now I look at them with a bit of dread in my stomach.

  Week after next, Tenn will be coming to visit, and I'm going to have to show him these plans. It's time he learned his little brother also has plans that exist outside of the family business. It's important I show him this because I've been thinking a lot lately about seeing if there's a way for me to distance myself from JennCo. We had considered once taking the company public, but our overwhelming sense of familial obligation shot that idea down. Almost two years later, though, and I'm feeling the walls closing in on me.