Meadowlarks 3 : Endless (3 page)

***

As soon as I get the green light on my newly acquired building, I call my developer and have him come over to take a look at the property.

“Pete, what do you think?” I ask when he gets out of his truck and walks up the steps on to the porch.

“Pretty nice, Casey. I think the homey look will appeal to potential clients.” Pete shakes my hand.

“That’s what I was thinking too,” I say, opening the front door and motioning for him to walk in ahead of me. Bob is already inside waiting in the empty kitchen.

“Pete! How are ya? It’s been too long,” Bob greets Pete.

“Good seeing ya, Bob. You sure found Casey a good one. I don’t think it’ll take much to turn it into an office.” Pete looks around, then opens the blueprints of the house on the breakfast bar in the center of the room. “Do you want a complete gut?”

I shake my head. “I’d like to keep the upstairs the way it is…for storage and such,” I lie. I might keep files up there in the future, but I really just love the idea of having a bed around. Maybe Riley will succumb to me…someday.

“I can have a crew in here tomorrow,” Pete says, confidently.

“Perfect. I’d like five offices, two of them adjoining…for an assistant.” I smirk at the idea of having her so close to me again.

We shake hands and after Pete leaves, Bob and I go to a local restaurant for lunch.

“Are you going to talk about it now?” Bob asks while chewing on a piece of garlic bread.

“It’s over. Nothing to talk about.” I try to brush it off.

“Well, I think it’s nothing but uphill for you from here on out. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when you open.”

“I can’t either.” I grin, and tip back my bottle of beer.

“You’re really going to New York though? How often will you be back?”

“I need to get away, Bob. I do love Wyoming, but I need a little filthy city air for a while.” I laugh. “Remember Riley Harrison? The agent working at Pine Ridge?”

“With black hair? Legs for days?”

I nod and inhale. “That’s the one. She’ll be running it for me while I’m gone. I trust her completely.”

“Doesn’t she still work for Elsa?”

“For now.”

Bob smirks. “Storage and such, huh?”

“More like…a bed with handcuffs,” I chuckle quietly. “Fuck, maybe it’s a bad idea.”

“Put aside how hot she is for a moment. I know you, and you don’t trust very many people. If you trust her, she’s obviously the right person for the job.”

He’s right.

When Bob excuses himself to use the washroom, I take the moment of privacy to text Riley.

Me: Hi, beautiful.

Riley: Weston…

I grin and lick my bottom lip.

Me:
Got the property. Ready to resign?

Riley: When will I start?

Me: Three weeks. I’m going to NY

but I’ll be back next week.

Riley: If you screw me over, you’ll regret it, Casey.

I close my eyes and think of her comment in a different light.

Me:
Don’t miss me too much.

Riley: See you next week, perv.

Me: Sure will, ma’am…

She doesn’t send any words back, just an eye-rolling emoticon. I run my thumb over her name on my screen, and quickly click my phone off when Bob sits back down at the table.

“I got this,” I say, taking the bill when the waiter places it on the table. “Thanks for everything, Bob. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Good luck in the big city, Weston.”

CHAPTER THREE

I peered out of the window on the plane while we made our descent into LaGuardia. It took a little longer than usual to collect my bags, but once I got outside of the terminal I was able to climb right into an awaiting cab.

“Leonard and West Broadway, please,” I say to the driver once he’s pulled away from the curb. I’m going to be staying in a friend’s condo while he’s out of the country. As much as my parents would love for me to stay with them in Chelsea, I’d rather not. I could stay with Liam too, but I just want to be alone.

After a few glasses of wine, a nice pinot courtesy of Mark, the condo owner, I swipe through emails on my cell. A few from Bob, one from my sister…I click to open the email from Josh, my best friend in school and the CEO of a top New York agency.

September 4
^th
, 2014

7:49 PM

From: Joshua Montedesco

To: Weston Casey

Subject: FINALLY!

Let me know when you’re here. We need drinks and women.

Doesn’t matter the order. Call me.

Joshua Montedesco

Montedesco Properties, NY

I call him, but he doesn’t answer. “Josh. Where the fuck are you? I’m in Tribeca, and you’re not answering your damn phone. I started drinking already, so where are the women?”

Half a glass of wine later, Josh calls me back. “Hey, asshole. How was the flight?”

“Not bad. What’s the plan tonight?”

Josh chuckles into the phone and I hear him speak to someone else. “Just a sec, damn…Sorry, Weston. Yeah, tonight. I’ll pick you up for dinner in an hour? Sound good?”

I was already starving, and ransacked Mark’s fridge earlier, but I could eat again. “I’ll text the address.”

Thirty minutes later I’m showered, and dressed. Charcoal suit with a faint blue shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and no tie.

Josh texted when his car arrived outside, and I made my way down the building and out into the warm night air. He pushes the car door open from the inside and slides over on the leather seat. “I’m disappointed you’re not wearing cowboy boots.”

“Shut up,” I growl when I climb in and close the door behind me.

Josh laughs then nods his head to the driver who was waiting intently with his eyes on the rear view. “I cancelled all my appointments for tomorrow, so I hope you’re prepared to get completely obliterated tonight.”

“Fuck, yes.”

***

Dinner was the typical Manhattan swank. Suits and cellphones. We ate a light dinner, then headed toward the East Village. Five minutes into the drive, the car pulls over and idles at the curb. I glance over at Josh who is on his phone.

“I’m here,” he says gruffly to whoever is on the other end.

Thirty seconds later Josh nods his head toward my door and grins. I look out, and there are two women standing there. I open the door and step out. One, a total knockout with skin the color of warm honey, with long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. The other, a blonde with very obvious silicones and the best ass I’ve seen in a while.

“Ladies...” I stand out of their way so they can climb into the car. The mixture of their sweet perfume permeates in the September night air, and my heart instantly starts to race. I’m
so
ready for this.

“Chella, Kristen…this is Weston. New Yorker turned cowboy. We need to show him what he’s missed all these years.” Josh elbows me and I grin at the women sitting across from us.

“You don’t look like any cowboy I’ve ever seen,” the blonde says in a sultry voice while twirling her hair between her fingers.

“Josh likes to exaggerate. I’m sure you’ll find that you later in bed, but…” I laugh when Josh punches me in the arm. “I live in Wyoming. But I’m no cowboy.”

I could tell them the last thing I’ve ridden was the brunette from the coffee shop, but it might be in poor taste this early in the night. I’ll get a few drinks into them first.

The East Village has changed since I last remember it. Then again, it was at least a decade ago, and I wasn’t even legal drinking age at the time. I get out of the car and extend my hand, the dark haired knockout, Chella, grips me and climbs out. She pulls her long hair over her shoulder, revealing her bare back, and I have to clench my jaw to refrain from grabbing her and pulling her back into the car.

The music thumps and Josh directs us into the building. Bypassing a line of people waiting to get in. Chella keeps her fingers laced through mine, and when we stand by the bar waiting to order drinks she stand right in front of me and presses her behind right into me.

I look over at Josh, mouth the word “
fuck
”, and shift my eyes down Chella’s body. He grins and winks.

“What are you drinking, beautiful?” I lean in and ask what she would like. My knuckles slowly tracing down her spine.

“Patrón,” Chella says, leaning her face back to me.

Oh, baby is a tequila drinker
.

This was already looking good, now it’s almost a grand slam.

We drank…and drank. And danced, and drank some more.

Eventually our age caught up with us, and Josh and I stood and watched the girls dance.

“How do you know them?” I loudly ask over the music.

“Interns,” Josh says back, not taking his eyes off the girls.

“No shit…” I grinned, thinking that I’m
really
going to like working in New York.

***

Tequila was a bad idea.

Chella drank so much she threw up all over the inside of Josh’s car, and all over my shoes. Kristen naturally insisted on nursing her friend back to health and we dropped the pair of them off at their apartment.

We drove all the way back to Tribeca with all of the windows rolled down. Josh was passed out most of the way, and I faded in an out a few times myself.

“Sir? We’ve arrived.” The driver stands with my door open and tries to discreetly cover his mouth from the stench.

“Thanks,” I say, swallowing hard. I look over at a sleeping Josh and decide not to wake him up. I tossed my shoes in the garbage before heading upstairs.

Once I’m showered—scrubbed—and in bed, I fall into an alcohol-infused fantasy starring the most beautiful girl in Wyoming. Riley.

We’re lying in the grass in the meadow just beyond Pine Realty. I used to sit in my chair and zone out looking through the trees, thinking of just being free. Probably my subconscious telling me that I’ll probably always be alone. Even in marriage I was unrestricted.

Riley sprawls out; dew from the grass kisses her skin, and she’s wearing nothing but skimpy underwear and one of my dress shirts. Her long black hair is curled in long, flowing waves, and is fanned out around her head. She looks at me so lovingly, I almost can’t take it.

I climb on top of her, placing my hands on either side of her head. She gazes up at me, running her fingers up my arms and then down my chest. I lean down to kiss her soft lips, and she pulls me down on top of her body.

Riley sucks on my neck, my jaw, licks across my stubble and places biting nips on my throat. I strain against my jeans and whisper to her just how badly I want her. We roll, and she’s on top of me. Sitting straight up, she slowly runs her hands up her body, up her neck and runs her fingers through her silken hair.

Her fingers run back down her chest, then she slowly unbuttons the shirt she’s wearing. Underneath is nothing but pure and perfect bare skin. I lean up and she pulls my head to her chest.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “Take everything.”

I growl and flip her over, pinning her down on the grass once more. This time I kiss and bite down the side of her body. Once I reach her hip I take her panties between my teeth and pull gently, the loose ribbon unties and I pull the fabric from her body.

Riley grabs a handful of my hair and directs my head. I grin and inhale deeply before consuming her sweetest flesh. She claws the earth on either side of her body, and her body lurches slowly into a climax. “Baby, please,” she whimpers softly.

Harder and faster I press into her, and she unravels, shuddering and screaming for me. I get to my knees and inch up to her, licking my lips before she pulls me into a deep kiss.

Riley’s hands reach down and grip me tightly, directing me into her, and the moment I push…I wake up.

Shit
.

“What!” I angrily answer my phone without looking at the caller ID.

“Well, sorry for disturbing you, you fucker. I’m so pissed you left me in that car full of puke. You’re a dick,” Josh’s voice rumbles like gravel through the phone.

I part my lids and glace at the clock. Three in the afternoon. Holy shit, I slept for twelve hours. “Man, I almost added to the pile.” My body is still panting from my dream, and the apparent tent in the sheets indicates I’m still fully aroused.

“Breakfast tomorrow? We need to go over some major details.”

“Yeah. But don’t send that car.”

“I called the insurance company and wrote it off.”

I blink. “Really?”

“No, not really, dumbass. But it’s getting the shit detailed out of it right now. Tomorrow. Eight AM.” Josh hangs up before I can say anything else.

I let the phone drop from my fingers and look down at my ever-present
situation
. Well, like any man that’s married, or has been…I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. That’s not a euphemism, by the way.

CHAPTER FOUR

“To a Montedesco and Casey uprising…” Josh reaches across the table and clinks his glass with mine. “…and to your freedom.”

“Cheers,” I say before sipping my vodka with a splash of orange juice to taste. Breakfast of champions.

Montedesco Properties spans all of New York, as well as parts of New Jersey. Josh has sold commercial real estate for the past seven years, and was named one of New York’s most eligible bachelor’s last year. Now, he’s bringing me in as his chief financial officer; a job that he was also doing for the past two years, on top of being CEO.