Cowboy Like Me

Chapter 2.

It had been about two weeks since I first met Richard Hale at the Beaumont Estate, and I had to admit, the man wasn't terrible company. But that didn't mean I was sticking around for much longer. Men like Richard always wore thin after a while—too predictable, too comfortable, too sure of themselves.

Still, it hadn't been a bad run. As always, I'd played my part to perfection: doting, mysterious, slightly unattainable. Just enough to keep him hooked. And in return, I'd been regaled, entertained, and lavished with gifts. From pearl earings to a diamond bracelet I'd pretended was too much, but, of course, I accepted. I mean, what kind of girl would I be if I said no?

I sat on the edge of Richard's unnecessarily huge bed. I felt the smooth silk sheets under my hand as I glided my fingertips across it, thinking of my next move. I could hear him puttering around, probably in his office, completely oblivious. He had work today, some boring conference call with his even more boring business partners, and he wouldn't miss me for hours. I had plenty of time.

I got up, stretching lazily, and walked over to the vanity where Richard's latest gift, a Cartier watch, sat neatly in its velvet-lined case. The man had taste, I'd give him that. I slipped the watch into my purse without a second thought, sparing a glance to look at myself in the mirror. I'd dolled myself up. For an old man who lived alone, Richard had quite the makeup collection.

"Let's do this thing," I muttered to myself, biting back a smile.

Moving quickly, I went through the room, grabbing small, but expensive, things—nothing too obvious. Just to be careful. I grabbed a pair of gold cufflinks from his dresser, a small jade figurine from his mantel, and a diamond ring from the desk drawer. They were just trinkets to Richard, things he wouldn't even notice were missing until they'd been pawned off for a hefty sum.

I slipped into the hallway, moving silently across the polished wooden floors toward his library. When I reached the ostentatious room, I went straight to the bookshelves. It took a minute to find the small safe behind a row of leather-bound volumes, some pretentious books about the meaning of life, but there it was.

I'd already scoped it out days ago, casually observing him open it when he thought I wasn't paying attention. Men always underestimated me.

I gave the dial a few quick spins, and it clicked open, revealing wads of cash, a couple of papers, a watch, and—jackpot—a set of emerald earrings in a black velvet box. These had to be worth more than half the crap in the house combined. I shoved everything into my bag and closed the safe as if nothing had happened. I could hear Richard still on the phone downstairs, laughing at something his colleagues probably said. He would never know what hit him.

Satisfied, I grabbed my coat and slipped down the staircase. The hired help wasn't around—he would send the staff away when I stayed over, something about wanting privacy—so there was nobody around. A quick glance at my reflection in the hallway mirror confirmed I looked innocent enough. Just another day in the life of the mysterious girlfriend.

I slipped out the back door without a hitch.

********

A few days later, after ghosting Richard, I was lounging poolside at a five-star resort, letting the sun bake the last bit of guilt off me. Not that I had much to begin with. The man had more than enough to spare. The cash I'd snatched, along with the emerald earrings and other trinkets, was more of a parting gift for my services than actual theft. He wouldn't even miss it.

The sound of the ocean was a perfect backdrop to the lazy buzz of conversation around me. Wealthy couples, the kind that vacationed because they were bored, milled around with their oversized sunglasses and designer sandals, completely unaware of me. I blended in here, just another "somebody" in expensive sunglasses sipping overpriced cocktails. I'd splurged a little—new clothes, fresh manicure, a stay in one of the resort's best rooms. A girl had to treat herself every once in a while.

I stretched, letting out a contented sigh. The sun felt good, hot and familiar, and I could already feel the tension of my last "relationship" melting away. Richard had probably already realized I'd gone, seen his stuff gone, and was sitting in his empty mansion wondering where it all went wrong. Poor thing.

Classic. No mess, no confrontation. Just the clean, swift departure I'd perfected over the years. It wasn't personal; he just wasn't interesting anymore. And now, I was on to better things.

The sound of tennis balls being whacked back and forth caught my attention, and I glanced over at the court nearby, shaded by a tent-like thing that stretched over the whole setup. Some couple in all-white outfits were going at it like their lives depended on it. The guy had one of those aggressive tennis grunts, the kind that made me cringe just listening to it. They both looked like the type who had personal trainers and didn't realize that most people ran on treadmills out of necessity, not fun.

I watched them for a moment, wondering how the game worked exactly. Tennis wasn't something I'd grown up around—more of a TV sport for rich people. But here I was, with nothing but time and money to burn.

I stood up, adjusting my swimsuit slightly, and made my way toward the court. The tent-like cover flapped slightly in the breeze, shading the court. A resort employee stood nearby, ready to assist at a moment's notice.

I stood in silence, watching for a good moment. As I scanned the area, someone caught my eye. He wore an impeccable linen suit that looked tailor-made, paired with polished loafers that hinted at wealth. But there was something off about him; he didn't fit in with the other rich men milling around, all stuck up their own asses, too engrossed in their cocktails and conversations to notice anything beyond their little worlds.

He seemed to carry himself differently. His poise felt forced, like he was trying a little too hard to be part of this elite crowd. He glanced around, his body language betraying a hint of discomfort amid the lavishness of it all. I couldn't really place it at the moment, but something about him interested me.

Feeling curiosity spark in my chest, I decided to approach him, weaving through the throngs of sunbathers and cocktail sippers. As I got closer, I caught his eye, and he turned to me, looking slightly surprised.

"Hi there," I said, flashing a confident smile. "I couldn't help but notice you standing out in this sea of perfectly polished people."

He chuckled softly, a hint of relief evident in his posture. "Guess I'm much more interesting than I give myself credit for. Alvan Leigh, by the way."

"Laverna Reeves," I replied, extending a hand. "Pleasure to meet you."