Life in the Fast Lane: A BBW Erotic Novella (Western Romance, Billionaire Cowboy, Curvy Girls) (9 page)

But every time I reached out my hand I only met empty air. I tried to picture where he was; probably sleeping in some penthouse suite in a luxury hotel in Omaha. Did they even have luxury hotels there? I’d never been to Omaha. And even if I had, there was little chance of me staying in a place like that.

Or maybe he’d flown back and was just getting into his private car, his loyal driver ready to take him through the long, winding back roads that led to the ranch. I pictured him sipping a glass of bourbon, or maybe scotch at this point, tired and ready to fall asleep in his own bed. I wished silently that I could sneak up there to meet him.

Somewhere in the midst of these thoughts I fell back asleep and into a vivid dream:

Lane’s car pulled up to the ranch; he stopped the driver short just outside my cottage.

“This is fine,” he said. “I’ll walk the rest of the way. Have a good night.”

The driver nodded his acquiescence and Lane exited the car, closing the door gently. He put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly toward my cottage. He was dressed differently, wearing a suit and tie; not the normal, down-to-earth clothes he was typically adorned with during his time on the ranch.

The top button of his shirt was undone and his neck-tie loosened. It had been a long day for him—a profitable one, to be sure, but long nonetheless. He walked up to my door and then stopped, checking the time on his watch. It was late. Did he dare knock? Maybe he should just head back to his own bed.

No, he thought. I’ve been waiting all day for this.

He knocked three times at the door and waited. All was silent, he couldn’t hear any sound from within the cottage. He waited a little while longer and tried again.

And that’s where my dream ended, blending seamlessly into real life. I opened my eyes and listened as I heard three strong raps on the wooden door to my cottage. A naughty smile slowly spread its way across my face. I jumped out from under the covers and ran downstairs. I guess dreams
did
come true.

A few hours into dinner and drinks, Lane leaned over and spoke in a low voice to Phil Boyd.

“I’m going to get out of here. Can you cover for me?”

“No problem, Lane. But what’s the rush, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Just tired is all. I can’t handle a night out at a strip club. Believe it or not, I think I’ve grown out of that phase of my life.”

“Never thought I’d live to see this,” said Phil, shaking his head in feigned reproach. “Have you met someone?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“I had a feeling,” said Phil, who proceeded to take another swig of scotch.

“How’d you know?”

“Like I said, just a feeling, an intuition. You’ve seemed a bit distracted. Shoulda known it’d be a woman.”

“Am I really that off my game?”

“No, no. I don’t think anyone’s noticed. You just seem a bit… preoccupied.”

“I’d say that’s about right.”

“Well, go on, get out of here. I got you covered, buddy.”

“You sure?”

“Hey man, the heart wants what the heart wants. I, on the other hand, am unattached. I could use a rowdy night out.”

“Good. Go get ‘em, tiger,” said Lane, giving Phil a punch in the arm.

He’d known Phil since they were college roommates. He should have realized that if anyone could read him, it would be Phil. Thankfully, this was the one person he trusted to handle business for him.

Lane stood up from the table.

“Gentlemen,” he said, raising his glass. “One last toast to this deal, then I’m hitting the road.”

One of the men topped off his glass and they all raised them in cheers before downing their drinks. Lane shook Louis Caldwell’s hand one more time, and before he knew it, he was exiting the restaurant and stepping out into the cool night air. A car came around shortly, the same Bentley Arnage from before. He called his pilot from his phone as he sat in the backseat of the car and told him to have his plane ready in under an hour.

He lay back in the seat and shut his eyes, praying he might catch a few moments of sleep on the drive to the airport. But as soon as his eyes were closed, visions of Adelaide danced through his head. He didn’t mind that, but it sent a charge of electricity through him that shot him wide awake. Soon enough, he’d be home with her.

But when he arrived at the airport, his pilot greeted him with some bad news. A mechanical issue would keep the plane grounded for the next few hours.

“Can we charter another plane?” asked Lane.

“Not at this hour,” said the pilot. “It’s nearly 2:00 AM. I think it’s best if we wait until morning.”

Lane was frustrated, but apparently there was nothing he could do. Besides, he couldn’t just bust in on Adelaide at some strange hour in the morning. He walked back to the Bentley where it waited for him on the tarmac and told the driver he’d be needing a hotel tonight. They headed back into downtown Omaha and found a place.

The room was nice enough, but as Lane lay in bed he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep—not when he was craving Adelaide’s body like this. And so he tossed and turned, waiting impatiently for the pale light of the morning sun.

I approached the door of the cottage, hearing loud knocking still coming from the outside. I was in a low-cut tank top and a pair of athletic shorts, but I figured Lane wouldn’t mind.

Excited, I unlocked the door and swung it open—only to find Don on the front steps.

“Um, hey?” I said surprised, with a little hint of disappointment probably evident in my tone.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Uh, sure, I guess. What’s going on?”

“I was just walking around the property, making my nightly rounds, ya know? Just checkin’ in on things. I figured I’d see how you were doin’ tonight.”

“Nightly rounds? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, I’m up,” said Don, leaning in towards me.

I could smell the liquor on him and it made me tense up. He made a move to touch me, but I backed up, trying to remain polite as I did so, not wanting to start some kind of confrontation.

“Well, I’m pretty tired, so if there’s nothing pressing I think I’ll be heading back to bed.”

“Is that an invitation?” asked Don, leaning in again, backing me up toward a wall.

“No,” I said firmly. “Don, are you drunk?”

“Maybe a little. What does that matter?”

I noticed he was slurring his words slightly at this point.

“I don’t think you should be here then,” I said.

I felt myself shaking, but I tried to stand my ground.
Why was he doing this?
Up until now I’d always trusted Don; I’d assumed he was a good man. All of this seemed so out of character for him.

“Why not? I figured I’d get in on the action maybe while Lane is away. We’ve all heard what a good lay you are. How about you give me a little taste?”

“
Dammit
, Don. Don’t do this. Get the hell out of here right now or I’m going to go get Jim. You’ll be damn sorry if you move one more inch towards me.”

Don hesitated, staring threateningly at me. Then he thought better of it and backed down.

“Alright, fine. I’m leaving,” he said.

I watched as he stumbled away, muttering something about me under his breath. Once he was outside I ran to the door and locked it. Falling against the back of it, I let myself slide down towards the floor.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why the hell had he done that? Should I tell Lane?
I’d been so scared back there, but now I was crying, grateful that something worse hadn’t happened, but so damn angry that Don had put me through this.

Eventually, I picked myself up from off the floor and hiked up the stairs and back to my bed. It’d be absolute hell trying to fall asleep now with the mixture of fear and anger running through me. I hated Don for putting me in this position. Things had been going so well. Why did something like this threaten to derail all the good things that had come into my life?

I lay there as these thoughts ran relentlessly through my head. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but sleep was surely a long time coming.

Lane never slept that night, and as soon as the sun started to rise he called his pilot to confirm that the plane was in working order. Upon confirmation, he called down to the front desk of the hotel and ordered a car service. Within about an hour he was out on the tarmac, the wind blowing through his hair as he walked up the steps into his private jet.

After lift-off, he settled into a comfortable sleep and in a few hours he arrived back in Houston, feeling a little bit more rested and certainly glad to be close to home.

As his driver took him from the airport out to the rolling pastures of the ranch, Lane wondered when he’d have a chance to see Adelaide alone again. He thought of knocking on her cottage door in broad daylight, but realized by this hour she’d already be out training, working with his horses.

Without many other options, he figured he’d head up to his office and relax a bit; maybe read a good book or something to pass the time until nightfall. He liked to do that sometimes, especially after a big deal like the one he’d just completed. It was something to take his mind off business, to expand his horizons. There was more to life than oil and money, and despite the magnificent luxury that surrounded him, sometimes he craved a simple escape.

But after an hour or so of reading in his office he started to get drowsy. The truth was, he was still tired from his sleepless night, and an afternoon nap didn’t sound half bad. And so he dozed off into those quiet afternoon hours.

He woke a few hours later with an open book laying pages down on his chest, cradled there when he’d first fallen asleep. He checked his watch: it was almost six o’clock and he was absolutely starving.

He headed down to his big kitchen where he rummaged through the cabinets full of food. His head chef, Henry, was there and offered to make him something, but Lane decided he couldn’t wait.

“No, Henry, it’s fine. I just want a cold beer and some pretzels.”