Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3)(27)

One of my goals today is to walk the town square and see if anyone is hiring.

When Rand asked me last night just before we fell asleep what my plans were today, I told him I intended to find a job. He offered to drive me to the town center as he was taking his ski equipment into his buddy’s shop for a tune-up with ski season fast approaching, or at least that’s what he said was the reason. I suspect he just wanted to offer gallant services to me, and it warmed me so much that he wanted to do that, I graciously accepted. I hope to cover most of the businesses surrounding the town square with my resume. Maybe something will come through.

Before I committed to staying in Jackson, there was a moment last night when I thought about just heading back to Vegas, even though I didn’t have any money to get there. I knew I could get a job stripping pretty quickly. I’d have immediate cash by which to live, so it was a decent option if I could just make my way back home.

But then I took serious stock of where I was in that moment and realized I didn’t want to go to Vegas. I wanted to stay right there, in that bed with Rand, with his arms wrapped tight around me and his beard tickling my neck. I wasn’t ready to give up the security he was temporarily providing me, nor these new and delicious feelings blooming inside my chest whenever he looks at me. It was my very own Christmas every time he touched me or smiled at me. I was soaking it up like a greedy sponge.

We both exit his Suburban, me taking a bit longer as I carefully use the running board to step down in my Fendi heels. I look at the shoes that cost $750, wishing I had that cash in my pocket rather than the designer label on my feet. Hopefully, that won’t be an issue by the time I meet Rand over at the ski shop after I finish all my errands.

“Good luck,” he says with a smile at me over the hood of his vehicle. “Call me if you need anything. I’m just going to be hanging out.”

“Will do,” I say, hitching my purse up as Rand turns toward the rear of his Suburban where he has his skis stashed. Apparently, a tune-up is nothing more than getting the skis repaired of any damage from the season before, such as nicks and stuff, as well as getting them waxed. Again, I suspect this is not something that had to be done right now, but was rather his excuse to drive me to the center of town, which I find almost unbearably sweet because I don’t understand what I’ve done to deserve that consideration.

I step up onto the sidewalk that borders the town square, which is nothing more than a small park with large shade trees that are still full and green, a few benches, and a small walking path. I head in the opposite direction of Rand, with no intention of job hunting right away. Tucked inside my purse is all the jewelry Samuel bought me. Well, I actually bought it myself, but it was with his money. Even my engagement ring I picked out and bought, at his insistence and with him pushing his own personal credit card into my hand since my limit wasn’t enough to cover the three-carat rock.

Rand has no clue I’m doing this, and I suspect he’d try to discourage me from something so rash, especially since I have a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and his amazing cock f*cking me every night. But the one thing Samuel taught me, and taught me well, is that no one is truly looking out for me but myself. I can’t rely on Rand to be there for me, and while I’m fairly confident he wouldn’t abuse the trust I’ve placed in him the way Samuel did, I still have to be ready to jet out of here at the first sign he’s something less than I hope him to be.

That means I need money.

I’ll sell my jewelry, or at the very least, I’ll pawn it. After that, I’m free, mobile, and I won’t be beholden to anyone.

I won’t be owned again.

Except… I have that nagging feeling like I want to be owned by Rand or something, but that’s just crazy. Samuel owned every part of me, and I hated it. There’s no way I could possibly want that from Rand.

Right?

I glance over my shoulder at Rand receding in the distance as I continue to walk away. He’s already got his skis pulled out and the door shut, standing at the corner waiting for a light to turn green so he can cross. He doesn’t look back at me as I turn right onto South King Street, which houses Libertine’s Jewelry just half a block down.

I decided to start with actual jewelry stores, independently owned and small. I figure they would be the most likely to buy from me. I actually purchased a piece here last summer, so I hope the owner remembers me.

With my gaze lowered to the sidewalk to make sure I don’t lodge my spiked heels in a crack or something, I’m almost knocked sideways by my shoulder colliding with someone.

“I’m sorry—” I start to say as I turn toward the person, but I come to a dead stop with my mouth hanging open and my blood turning to ice.

Kevin Vaughn stands there leering at me.

I can tell by the mixture of contempt and challenge in his eyes that he had seen me coming down the sidewalk and purposely ran into me. He’s not surprised to see me the way I am him.

“Hello, Catherine,” he says as he takes a step toward me.

My eyes take in his appearance. Samuel was old and practically withered with the slew of medical problems he had, but I could always see in his face that he had once been a good-looking man. His sons both have the same bone structure and look.

Kevin Vaughn keeps his blond hair perfectly cut, styled, and sprayed. Fake tan that is so well done it looks real. Thousands of dollars of veneers that make his teeth almost neon white. Dressed in designer labels. He loves money and he loves spending it. As the director of operations for Samuel’s hotel empire, he makes a lot of money.