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Joy shook her head as she slid gracefully to the ground. “Thanks, but I have been doing this by myself for a long time”, suddenly wishing that she was again on top of Blaze as the man towered over her. She could not tell what he was thinking, his eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses, the handsome Spaniard so out of place on the farm. Everything about him was slick, clean, expensive, her hands rubbing down her jodhpurs, her hair clinging sweatily to her head when she removed the riding hat. Giving a half-laugh, her nose crinkled, “Sorry. If you had called I would have made sure I was showered... You are probably better being upwind of me right now... Horses have a very distinctive smell”
To her surprise he laughed, his arms crossing over his broad shoulders. “Kind of assuming that I don’t ride, aren’t you?”, her eyes widening in surprise, “YOU... You ride?”, her cheeks dimpling, “Horses... Not just sports cars?”, her look flitting to the one parked in front of the house, his brows rising in mock indignation. “As it happens yes... Is that so hard to believe?” Grabbing the reins, Joy began to walk to another field, her eyes squinting to him playfully. “It is just that I cannot imagine you creasing your suit, to be honest”, his loud laugh pleasant to her ears as he joined her.
Carig slanted a look at the small woman beside him. When had anybody teased him so openly? In the office, he was admired and feared, his employees treating him with reverence and respect, his adversaries even more so. His dates were generally not chosen for their thinking ability, but more by their looks and ability to pleasure him in bed, these women usually totally in awe at his impressive wealth. Joy however, seemed not to care one little bit about his money, he finding her openness strangely enjoyable.
As she moved around the horse, stripping the saddle from him in minutes, he allowed his eyes to trail over her. The previous day, dressed in a baggy suit, her figure was hidden from him, but today in jodhpurs which could have been sprayed on, he admired the way her shape softly curved in all of the right places. Her pert bottom and well-toned legs caught his attention, a sensual smile spreading over his face. Perhaps having her around might not be so arduous after all.
Finished with Blaze, Joy shooed the horse into the field, ensuring the gate was well-secured, before taking a deep breath, she turned to Carig, surprised at the strange expression on his face. Once more she was aware of what a sight she must make, dressed in working clothes, her hands dirty, she sweaty from the exertion of jumping. Fidgeting, she looked back at the house.
“Let me get you some coffee... Then jump in the shower”, another smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he chuckled, “Well that is very kind of you... But just coffee would be fine for me” Joy felt her cheeks burn as her mouth flapped open and shut. “I... I meant me... not together!”, her eyes narrowing as he began to laugh, before she too giggled. Moving towards the house she looked at the CEO over her shoulder, “A sense of humour... Who knew?” Carig followed behind her, his eyebrows wiggling, “Yeah, well don’t tell anybody... Stock prices might never recover”
She led him in the kitchen, her attempts to make him coffee shooed away, his loud snort bringing another laugh to her lips as he filled the kettle, “I think even I can manage making a coffee”, Joy pointing to the cupboards where he would find what he needed, before she slipped into the bathroom. As the water cleansed her, she thought about Carig Calle. The day before, he had been everything she believed the spoilt arrogant CEO to be, however, today he seemed different... More human.
A chuckle slipped from her lips as she rinsed the soap from her body. ‘Human’? Really? Poor man, she had villainised him before even getting to know him, a trait she usually loathed in others. With a grimace, she stepped from the shower. She of all people should know that often the persona someone exuded did not always reflect how they truly were, her brow furrowing as she determined to give him another chance.
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Carig sipped on his coffee, his eyes scanning the small yet comfortable kitchen. The oak cupboards were a million miles from those in his own home. Here they were aged, beaten up with years of loving use, instinctively knowing that they had been handmade, the colour richer than their newer counterparts.
Small personal touches filled the area, a plaque declaring, ‘I only have a kitchen because it came with the house’, making his lips curl. The sentiment would fit in well with his lifestyle, but from the array of pans and cooking trays hidden behind the cupboards he had looked in, forgetting where she pointed for cups, this kitchen was not underused. It was the heart of the home, and for some reason, sitting in it felt comfortable.
When driving to her farm that morning, the land the last piece of the development puzzle he needed, he had been determined to be aloof, make her think twice before having her drag him around as her boyfriend. However, the whole scene outside unsettled him. He enjoyed talking to her, a long weary sigh leaving him. Why did she have to be so damn likable?
Lost in his thoughts, his head snapped up as he heard the footsteps entering the kitchen. Joy moved into the area, a shy smile on her face, her hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing yet another bland suit. Frowning, he watched her features become more concerned as she took in his look, his eyes rolling as he stood. “Seriously... Is that what you plan on wearing?”
The words were out before he could stop himself, the softness in her features disappearing instantly as she stood more rigidly, fire lighting her large eyes. “What is wrong with my clothes?”, the words bitten out as she glared at him. Waving his hands, he exhaled a long, suffering groan, “You really need me to tell you?” Her mouth straightened in an angry line, eyes flashing with warning, “Why don’t you do that Mr Big shot”, she threw back at him, Carig seeing as her hands fisted angrily on her small hips, her foot tapping.
Nodding, he stepped forward, “Fine... I will” A finger flipped the long tail which hung down behind her. “For a start... Most women do not wear ponytails... At least not after the age of twelve” Joy gasped, her hand rising to pat her hair, eyes daggers as he pointed to the collar of her jacket, “And you are supposed to be going out with me on a date... Not attending some job interview... Especially not in this outfit. I have seen better sacks than this ‘suit’” Another gasp left her as he plowed on, “And flatties?... Seriously Joy. You are not some six foot model who could get away with looking a little shorter... How tall are you?... 5’2... 5’3?... You need all the help you can get”
With her whole body rigid, she glowered back at him. “And I suppose you could choose better, could you?” Carig nodded as he moved around her, making for the direction she had come, only one door open, he sure that it must be her room. Her loud cries of protestation did not stop him as he stalked into her bedroom, pulling open the old wardrobe. To her dismay he paused, his eyes turning to her. “Good God... I like a challenge, but not much to work with here”
Joy’s insides shrivelled as he pushed each hanger aside, his look assessing each of her outfits, none of which could be described as fashionable. Finally, he settled on a summer dress, the soft buttermilk yellow a colour which looked good on her. Pulling it from the dark interior he threw it onto the bed. “OK... That was the best I could find... But you need clothes, and lots of them”
Heat infused her cheeks as she glared at the man before her. Was it only minutes ago that she had thought herself to have judged him unfairly, that perhaps he was really a sweet little pussycat, her lips twisting in a snarl. Well let that be a lesson to her. Carig Calle was no pussycat; he was an animal of a completely different species – a snake maybe. Drawing herself up to her fullest height, sure that he was not intimidated, but needing to seem stronger than she felt, she growled at him, “Well tough. I cannot afford new clothes... So get used to it”
With a look of contemptuous arrogance, he moved to the door, halting as he pointed to the dress, “Put that on... And consider the clothes I WILL be getting you a gift. However, if you think for one minute that you are going out with me wearing any of those…”, his hand gesturing to the wardrobe, “outfits... Then you are wrong. You said you wanted to mix with my social group... Well guess what, sweetheart. They will laugh you right out of the room if you turn up dressed in those”, and with that he turned and left. Joy stood silently, her eyes staring back at the empty space he had stood with stunned shock, his receding footsteps the only noise to be heard.
Slowly the rage which held her melted away as she sank onto the bed, her eyes staring intently at her hands. What the hell was she thinking? Of course he was right. She was some nobody farm girl who only ever bought a new outfit if she was attending a wedding. His friends were bored socialites who had turned shopping into an Olympic sport. Sighing, she lifted the dress he had chosen, a soft smile on her lips. It had been her father’s favourite too, the simplicity of it never aging as it hugged her small figure before flaring slightly at the hips. With a chuckle, she wondered if he thought it to be a retro copy of similar designs worn in the sixties, not prepared to tell him that it was an original, having belonged to her grandmother.
