Anticipation was a dull tingle thrumming through her body. Despite her outward calm, she felt skittish and distracted. She wished she'd taken the limousine Miss Bright had offered so she wouldn't have to concentrate so much on the road. She had wanted the freedom of her own vehicle, in case she lost her nerve and bolted. Also, the thought of a limo driver waiting out in the car while she got her cowboy fix was not appealing. Right now, however, a comfy, luxurious limo would have been a drastic improvement over this grim drive through nowhere. It would be a miracle if she arrived without accidentally steering into a ditch, or possibly just wandering into the other lane of oncoming traffic. Her mind was not focused, and that was a rarity.
Mostly, she wondered if she was going to be able to go through with this. Now that it was actually happening, she felt a little ridiculous. The wig and small mask sitting on the seat next to her didn't add to her comfort level. She would have been mortified if the Peace Arch border crossing guards had discovered her disguise. As it was, she'd had to fight the giggles when they'd asked her the purpose of her trip. She'd been so tempted to tell them that she was meeting a well-hung, cowboy-impersonating, man-whore for an afternoon of dirty, anonymous sex. Instead she had just chirped 'shopping' a tad too brightly and they'd waved her through after doing a cursory examination of her passport.
Ahead of her and on the right, there was a red barn. As she drew closer, she saw the smiling cow. This was it. She pulled over to the side of the road to get her bearings and slow her elevated heart rate.
Calm demeanor in place, she put the car back in gear and drove past the shiny red barn until she came to a gated driveway several miles up the road. The gate was open, so she slowly drove up the winding road until she came to a massive, modern stable surrounded by several empty, fenced pastures. No one appeared to be around, but she was early, as usual. She liked to have time to get organized before a meeting. Even one as unorthodox as this one.
She couldn't help but notice how modern and tidy this building was compared to the musky, dilapidated shack her family had used to shelter their two mangy horses and single milk cow. This stable looked like it could comfortably house a race track full of thoroughbreds, and a few people as well. Jake never would have left if they'd had a place like this. Instead, the cruel Alberta winter had forced him back to his family, at least for awhile. Until he'd run away and never been seen in their shabby little town again.
Kayla shook her head to ward off the ancient memories. She needed to stop thinking of Jake and focus on what was about to happen. Pulling up behind the stable, she parked and took a deep breath to calm herself again. She yanked the vanity mirror attached to her car's visor open and reached for the small, black lace mask on the seat behind her. Donning it, she admired her reflection for a moment. She had expected to feel foolish wearing something so dramatic, but instead she looked mysterious and sexy, even in the bright afternoon sunshine.
Next, she smoothed on the platinum wig and was surprised at how the chin-length bob accentuated her high cheek bones and lush mouth. She looked like another person. A woman quite comfortable living out her fantasy, rather than the tight-ass she'd become. Exactly the look she was going for. If the video of her adventure today somehow ended up in the wrong hands she was certain no one would recognize her. She barely recognized herself.
Stepping out of the car, she glanced down and yanked at the hem of her denim skirt until it covered a decent amount of thigh. No one was there to see her practically exposing herself, but she felt embarrassed by the immodest display anyway. She was used to being firmly buttoned up from knee to neck. She hadn't worn this particular skirt since high school, and had forgotten how it had a tendency to ride up until her panties were practically visible. She had loved this particular item of clothing back then. Loved how it and her red cowboy boots had gotten her so much attention. Not from Jake, but from every other guy in the county. Her white off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, with strapless bra beneath, completed her country look. She was strangely comfortable in these clothes, considering she had been trapped in restrictive fitted skirts and high heels for the past six years.
Idly, she wondered if her fantasy man would approve of her simple attire. She just couldn't think of him as a 'Scene Facilitator.' That sounded entirely too clinical. And the word 'gigolo' reminded her of that Richard Gere movie from the eighties. Yuck. Until she found out his name, fake or not, she was going to think of him as her cowboy.
Walking into the stable, her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lights and she was struck by the familiar scent of animals, leather, and hay. Closing her eyes, she breathed in and felt a lump form in her throat as she thought of her former home. She sent money to her parents to keep them afloat, but she hadn't visited in years. She was just too busy. At least that's what she told them. In truth, it was just too painful to return there.
When she thought of home, her memories usually consisted of her dad constantly working but still struggling financially to make ends meet. Or even more vividly, she could remember the endless teenage years of being at war with her mother who tried so valiantly to make her into a clone of herself. But Kayla had wanted so much more and her mother had resented her for not being satisfied with a 'normal' life. Her childhood home had felt like a prison, but despite her bitter memories of never fitting in, she still had some nostalgia for it and her family. And Jake, of course.
Looking around at the ostentatious display of wealth before her, she felt a little out of place. In fact, she felt like a complete interloper. That poor little girl from nowhere certainly wouldn't belong here. Very few people would feel comfortable in a place like this. Kayla's career had brought her into contact with people of extreme wealth and affluence, but this represented a whole other level of privilege. The person who owned it obviously had money to burn if he or she could afford to keep their animals in this degree of luxury.
The stable's ceiling was so high the space resembled an airplane hangar. At the far end, a massive stained-glass window the size of a mini-van depicted a horse running through a green field. The sun passed through that glass to send dapples of multi-colored light streaming down onto the floor.
Instead of concrete, the wide corridor was paved in red cobblestone. It separated two rows of stalls, at least ten on each side. Each room-sized stall had a large, wrought-iron sliding gate and a name-plate was attached to many of them. The stall she was currently looking for was to be labeled, "Kingmaker."
She quickly found the stall she was looking for on the left.. She quickly stepped into the empty stall beside it where she had been instructed to wait. There were a few hay bales along one side, and the floor was covered in a thick blanket of clean straw which completely covered the bottom half of her boots. She edged into the corner where the iron gate stopped and the wooden frame began. From this vantage point she had a clear view of the tack area beside the entrance, but should be invisible to anyone outside the stall. Across the corridor, various horse grooming instruments hung on a rack attached to the wall, and the huge rustic table beneath it held a saddle, a few horse blankets, feed cones, and other horse paraphernalia too sophisticated for her to recognize.
Looking down at the thin platinum watch circling her wrist, she wondered how long she was going to have to wait. Around her, in the silence of the stable, she could hear a horse rustling around and somewhere else a tap was dripping, but otherwise it was completely still. She was alone in a barn in the middle of nowhere. Her stomach knotted in dread as she thought about walking back to her car and forgetting completely about her fantasy.