Bad Boy Romance: Nick (Romantic Suspense Alpha Male Romance) (New Adult Rock Star Contemporary Short Stories) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 2) (21 page)

“You want me to pass up Donna
Karan, Marc Jacobs, Vera Wang, and Mathieu Mirano? All to spend a week in the
company of cows and chickens?!?” Ava exclaimed.

“And horses...” her best friend
Christie interjected, as if that should adequately justify passing up a trip to
the fashion houses of New York in exchange for a week-long “life on a ranch”
experience.

It wasn't that Ava had anything
against farm animals, she just made a rule of keeping them as far away from her
Gucci stilettos and her Jimmy Choo pumps as possible. OK, up until now, there
had been no rule on the subject, but given her friend's ludicrous request, it
was about time the rule be made.

“You know I could never afford
the trip on my own, and admit it, you can't possibly think your meager savings
is going to get you through those houses' front doors, never mind walking out
with bags of irresistible clothing.”

Christie may have a point, but
Ava wasn't ready to back down just yet. Besides, she'd be perfectly happy
sitting outside of Michael Kors, watching the wealthiest of society prance in
and out. She'd be content to dream of the day women would prance in and out of
her shop, adorning themselves in her fabulous creations—just not at the same
ridiculous price tags. It was her driving force; Ava loved everything about the
fashion industry, except for the astronomical cost that came with being
fashionable. It was what had kept her dressed in thrift shop finds as a kid,
instead of in the beautiful clothing that only the rich girls could afford. She
wanted to learn every couture secret out there and use her knowledge to make
the art of fashion accessible to the next generation of less-than-filthy-rich
teens and young women.

“Then why don't we pool our
money and you come with me to New York?” she posited, thinking it to be a far
more reasonable request, even as Christie's eyes seemed to bulge out of her
head at the suggestion.

“You can throw on a pair of
overalls and look just fine on a ranch. What do you think it's going to take to
get me prepped for a fashion house?” Christie asked dryly, surveying her
generic brand leggings and oversized T-shirt.

“Besides, you're at the top of
your class. We both know you're destined for a glamorous internship and a
star-studded career in the fashion industry. What need is a ranch going to have
for a mediocre paralegal when I'm finished school? So, it's only fair that you
come with me before your career takes off and you no longer have time for us
little people,” Christie cajoled, with puppy dog eyes and a devilish grin.

Ava had no doubt that Christie
knew she was about to win. It was one of Ava's greatest gifts and her biggest
flaw at the same time. She was too kind-hearted. Not in the way that made her a
good person, but in the way that made her a perpetual doormat. Throughout her
childhood and high school years, she was a habitual people-pleaser, and it had
interfered with every facet of her life, from her social life to her academic
performance.

However, from the day she was
accepted into the Bachelor of Fine Arts in Apparel Design at the Rhode Island
School of Design, her life changed. She had found something she was good at,
something she could take pride in. Ava was happy, and her confidence soared.
When it came to Christie, her spine seemed to turn to Jello. Christie was
right; Sarah would likely be spending the last year of her degree in fashion
hot spots like New York, Milan and Paris. Meanwhile, she knew Christie had
dreamed of learning to work with horses since she was a little girl—and even
less well-off than Ava—and who knew how long it would be before she had another
opportunity like this one.

Ava exhaled heavily, rolling
her eyes. Christie's grin transformed into an enormous smile, recognizing the
resignation and knowing she'd accomplished her goal. She threw her arms around
her friend, hugging her tightly for a moment before standing upright, a frantic
look on her face.

“OK, so that means we have
exactly two weeks until we leave. I'll take care of all the arrangements. You
just make sure you pack something that the cows and chickens can't ruin,”
Christie teased.

Ava nodded, trying to mentally
envision the contents of her closet and cringing at the thought of
manure-soaked
crepe de chine pants or mud-splattered
silk tunics. It wasn't that her clothing was the most expensive stuff out
there—most of her wardrobe was actually comprised of her own designs—but she'd
hate to ruin so many one-of-a-kind creations. Deciding not to think about the
impending defilement of her attire, she glanced at her watch, realizing she'd
been dallying at lunch for too long.

“I gotta go!” she announced,
rising from the diner's booth. “I've got a heavy schedule all week, so give me
a call this weekend and we'll finalize the details.” “...and see if I can't
figure out how to weasel my way out of this rustic excuse for a vacation,” she
mumbled under her breath.

Unfortunately, the week passed
by too quickly, and by the time the weekend arrived, she hadn't even a pitiful
excuse in sight. Worse, Christie had investigated the itinerary for the vacation,
and as she recited it over the phone, Ava fought valiantly against the urge to
back out. Early mornings, horse grooming, ranch maintenance—which she could
only imagine meant cleaning out stalls and other ungodly tasks. But at the end
of the long list of indescribable horrors sat the reason Ava stood strong
against the innate desire to flee. Horseback riding, training sessions, sunset
trail riding and other stuff that she knew meant the world to Christie. She
committed the trip—and its wretched itinerary—to the back of her mind for her
remaining week in civilization, and did her best to make every moment pass by
as slowly as possible. Unfortunately, the fates were unkind to Ava, speeding
her through the week at an exorbitant speed and before she knew it, their day
of departure was upon her.

She awoke early to squeeze in a
shower and prep time before their flight. Slipping on a pair of form-fitting,
bootcut jeans and a simple viscose tank top that had a deceptively demure
neckline in the front but plunged all the way to the waist of her jeans in the
back. She checked her reflection in the mirror, sliding her hands along the
outline of her curvy figure. At first, studying in the fashion industry, she'd
been terribly self-conscious about her curves, but as time went by and she saw
one skinny model after the next, she realized something. Those women, while
beautiful, were cookie cutters, exact replicas of one another. Even worse, from
studying behind the scenes she had come to see their many flaws; sunken faces,
bony thinness, Botox and volume injections and a steady calendar of plastic
surgery to keep up with the latest body trend.

In contrast, Ava saw herself as
absolutely unique, with a curvy, one-of-a-kind frame, long, golden blonde hair
and crystal blue eyes that captured the attention and admiration of men and
women alike. Satisfied with the woman staring back at her in the mirror, Ava
nodded, heading out into the small, common living room of her shared apartment.
She grabbed her luggage from next to the front door and forced her feet to
usher her downstairs to the lobby where Christie was, no doubt, already waiting
anxiously. She did her best to plaster a smile on her face, seeing no point in
making this a miserable experience for both of them, and made small talk all
the way to the airport and throughout the plane ride from Rhode Island to
Colorado. Ava loved to fly, though her tight budget didn't allow for air travel
very often.

The four-hour flight flew by
quickly, and Ava took a deep breath as she stepped off the plane. This was it;
there was no turning back. She wasn't entirely certain what she had against
ranch life so much—aside from the obvious muck and mud issues, of course. She
supposed it must have something to do with the unfamiliarity of the situation.
In truth, the only pet Ava had ever had was a goldfish, her parents both
allergic to most domestic animals. She felt very out of her comfort zone when
she thought about spending time on a ranch, surrounded by large, strange
animals and burly farmworkers. So much land somehow seemed unnatural, too,
having grown up in a two-bedroom apartment before moving into the apartment she
shared with two other fashion students.

Perhaps it was about time she
opened her mind and gave ranch life an honest try—at least for the week—she
thought as she spotted a man holding up a sign with their names. Walking over
to him, he greeted them both kindly, offering to take their bags and escort
them to the vehicle waiting outside, which turned out to be a luxury sedan,
pleasing Ava immensely. She had imagined having to ride in the back of a rusty
old pickup truck all the way from the airport to the ranch, and was pleasantly
surprised by the unexpected luxury ride. Traveling at least thirty minutes to
the ranch, the car pulled into a long, winding driveway that lead to a
well-kept, moderate-size ranch house.

Ava stepped out of the car,
turning to take in the view around her. She had never seen so much open space,
and it was...breathtaking. Beyond the open expanse was lush, green forest in
every direction and the mountain range beyond drew the eye upward, making it
seem like the land went on indefinitely. She had expected to be greeted by the
noxious smell of animal and manure, but instead the air smelled...clean.

“I told you it wouldn't be so
bad,” Christie whispered, obviously recognizing the awed expression on Ava's
face.

“I'm willing to concede that
the place doesn't smell like an outhouse,” Ava teased quietly.

A man came out of the house to
greet them then. He must have been nearly seventy-maybe older-and as wrinkled
as a prune, but he wore a kind expression that made him seem immediately
likable.

“Hello ladies. My name's
William Winchester—just call me Will, but not Bill. I managed to avoid the name
all these years and I don't want to pick it up now. I'm the owner of the
ranch,” he welcomed them, extending his hand in greeting. “I'll take you over
to your cabin so you can get settled, and then what do you say you join me at
the house for lunch? Don't worry, I'm not the one doing the cooking. We have an
in-house chef for that, or else all our guests would be stuck with my specialty
night after night.” “It's hot dog spaghetti, in case you were wondering,” he
whispered conspiratorially, and Ava couldn't help but laugh.

“It sounds like your specialty
might rival mine—macaroni and cheese whiz...a la Ava,” she teased back.

“That sounds wonderful,”
Christie replied, beaming brightly. “Um, the cabin, not the spaghetti...or the
macaroni,” she smiled apologetically.

The three laughed and the two
women followed Will beyond the house to a grouping of cabins about twenty yards
behind and to the right. The cabins were quaint, but immaculately maintained
with a small, wooden front porch on each one. Inside the “grand” one-bedroom cabin—the
largest unit the ranch had—was a cozy living room with a fireplace and a
kitchenette off to one side. The bedroom was a decent size with two double beds
and a large curtain that could be pulled to separate the space. The bathroom
was painted and decorated in the same style as the rest of the cabin, but
beyond the stand-up shower and small pedestal sink was a deep,
luxurious-looking hot tub—a welcome sight but it looked a little out of place
in the rustic cabin.

Their luggage was deposited by
the front door by the man who had picked them up at the airport, who nodded
goodbye and waited for Will on the grass beyond the front porch.

“If you need anything, just
mention it to anyone you see working around here,” Will explained. “They all
know that, outside of taking proper care of our animals, making sure the guests
are comfortable is our number one priority. Now, lunch will be ready in about
half an hour, so you just go ahead and take your time getting settled. I'll see
you up at the house shortly.”

Will turned and left the cabin
then, and Christie turned to look out the back window, overlooking the vast
fields and forests.

“Tell you what, Christie,” Ava
started, making her way in the opposite direction. “You go ahead and shovel
manure and rub down cows...or whatever it is you do here, and I'll spend the
week right here in the hot tub. Deal?”

“Ava,” her friend complained
good-naturedly.

“OK, fine. You can join me in
the hot tub, but keep to your side, and you're the one who has to tell Will
that we've opted for a week of luxurious relaxation instead of rustic farm
work,” Ava teased.

She turned into the bedroom
instead, depositing her luggage there and then reemerged into the living room.
Wandering out onto the front porch, she intended to take another look at the
scenic forest and mountain range but was greeted by another sight instead.
There, not thirty feet in front of her was an impressive, four-legged creature.
It's long, chestnut mane and tail glittered in the sunlight, and its eyes met
Ava's, surprising her with the alertness she saw there. Next to the horse stood
a young man, he couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old,
rubbing the animal while he spoke to it in quiet tones before taking hold of
its reins and slowly stepping backward. The young man's movements were
deliberate, as if he were reciting a set of instructions in his mind. Although
Ava hadn't seen a horse or its trainer once in her life, she could easily tell
he wasn't very experienced. It was interesting to watch; the horse more
accustomed to the movements than the young man.

From the corner of her eye, she
caught sight of another figure moving into view from the direction of the ranch
house. He was tall, well over six feet, and broad chested. Wearing a simple,
white T-shirt, she could decipher the outline of every sinewy muscle. His
five-o-clock shadow did nothing to hide the rugged outline of his jaw, and he
wore a cowboy hat, shielding his face from the sun, but drawing attention to
his dark, vivid, sapphire blue eyes. He walked over to the boy who was
stiltedly leading the horse around the pen. He spoke to him for a moment and
then stood back, observing. Suddenly, the boy moved more confidently; his steps
were more fluid and his eyes were focused on the task at hand.