Rodeo (BBW Cowboy Romance) (BBW Western Romance) (5 page)

During dinner that night John acted sulkily, a personal trait in anyone I find irritating, we spent most of the night talking in one sentenced remarks and once back in the hotel room we had nothing more to say to one another.  I felt angry and confused, how could someone shift their emotions so quickly? That evening I questioned it in my head, sitting out on the balcony whilst John engrossed himself in Sports TV I poured myself a glass of champagne and tried to relax in the musky twilight. 

I suppose it was bound to happen; two very, business minded people, used to making cut throat decisions and also used to getting what they wanted were poles apart because one or the other differed in opinion.  But, was it just a matter of differing opinions or was this the start of a match made in hell?  I'd not once in almost a year had I had any reason whatsoever to question John's love for me, he'd started out attentive, complimentary and sometimes a little over-bearing, he'd always seemed so proud to show me off, even though I discouraged his 'trophy wife' bravado.  Until now we'd felt equal so why the sudden turnaround?  With so many questions so early on in our marriage it was clear that we needed to talk.  That was easier said than done though, two very strong minded people who engaged in communication skills on a daily basis were all of a sudden at a loss for words.

I showed concern for John's moodiness and he only became moodier, I attempted to problem solve, which was my vocation in life and John appeared to become even more irritable; the chasm grew wider and wider and by the end of the honeymoon it felt like a huge gulf.

Deciding that I wasn't prepared to spoil my holiday any further I trailed off with the interrogations.  John was obviously pissed off about something and if he wasn't prepared to talk about it then neither was I, I assumed he would come to his senses sooner rather than later and then I would deal with it but right there and then I was tired of fighting a battle John didn't want me to win.  The rest of the honeymoon was spent being civil to one another. However, as soon as we were on the plane coming home, John seemed to revert back to his former charming self. 

I found myself sitting in First Class, sipping the finest vintage champagne and thinking that the bubbles that were merrily cascading around in my flute were practically symbolic to my recent days spent with John. I was jumping from one side of the glass to the other, enjoying the ride one minute and then desperately looking for some kind of escape, perhaps even a swift bolt over the side and into the unknown.  Whatever reasoning John was hiding to himself he was making it entirely clear that it was going to remain that way, he was a closed book.

Back at home I soon began to think that I'd imagined the whole of our stay in Dubai as John was the perfect husband, during dinner one night I gently brought up the subject of my concerns.

“Listen Eva, I'm sorry, but I'm a busy man, you're a busy woman, we're not always going to agree, ok,” the lack of a question mark at the end of his reply was tantamount to him stating a fact rather than inviting me to agree.

I wasn't wholly happy with his explanation but at least he'd acknowledged that there had been an issue, even hearing his half-hearted apology gave me enough reason to drop the subject and put it down to experience, it wasn't really worth fighting about and perhaps it was just a one-off.  Putting down his papers and joining me on the sofa his arm extended around my shoulders and he pulled me in towards him with a smile.

“Listen, if I've been a little difficult to live with over the last few days then why don't you treat yourself to something nice? Let's throw a garden party or something, you could do with getting together with Miguel or something, I'm sure between the two of you could cook up a successful storm, I'm expecting some business investors over from Japan in a couple of weeks, be nice for them to sample our hospitality,” he suggested, kissing me on the end of my nose.

It wasn't exactly perfect timing on his part if I was honest, I was horrifically busy myself at work, deadlines to meet on business reports and several agendas to prepare for annual general meetings at the beginning of the week were more my priority in favor of canapés and Japanese investors but I was a dab hand at juggling my business and social life and John was right, Miguel would love another challenge alongside his partner in crime. 

Leaving John on the sofa, “I'll call him right away.”

Miguel was overjoyed to be asked in the first place and even more ecstatic when I gave him the budget to work with,

“Honey, that's like almost as much as the wedding budget, you do know how to spoil me.”

“Miguel, it's not about spoiling you … we want to impress the guests, not the social diary columns of the local gossip mag,” I joked with him but on the other hand, I was being totally serious.  Miguel would, as I was only too well aware of, be planning his outfit, color co-coordinating his accessories and planning his latest injections of Botox before I'd even replaced the receiver.  Although John had suggested that I organized the garden party it was a relief to me to be able to pass the responsibility over to Miguel, of course I would need to keep a slight tension on his reins now and again but overall this was going to be Miguel's personal project of which I would take most of the credit for, that wasn't meant to be in a devious way, it was our kind of secret agreement.

Over the next couple of days I spent most of my time devouring business litigation papers, drawing up contracts of employment and contracts of termination whilst my mobile received the cruelest of abuse from Miguel's constant checklist requirements and “I'm just running this past you darling,” if he wasn't on the end of my phone he was demanding I met him in a drinks bar. The only problem with that was, by the end of a bottle of champagne we'd both created some kind of ostentatious and outlandish idea that, when we sobered up, seemed so ridiculous it worked. 

John and I lived in a beautiful house. I don't believe in hiring interior designers for the space in which you live so everything that surrounded us was my own creation. We only bought the best and even though it may sound big headed, it was tastefully decorated and coordinated to the very last detail.  We had no children and neither of us intended on having pets so a neutral theme had been jointly decided upon.  Hosting a garden party did make me slightly nervous that we'd chosen a white, leather sofa in the main living room, dark, polished wooden floors and crisp, white Egyptian cotton drapes to frame the windows but John assured me that most of the entertaining would be outside and that our guests were not likely to be tossing red wine over the furnishings. 

Set in established grounds, the house itself was just on the outskirts of the city, we'd purchased a city apartment not so long after buying the house as it was more convenient sometimes to stay in the city if work was too time consuming.  The apartment was ultra-modern, stainless steel and gadgets for everything, I rather think it was more 'John' than it was me but for me, the house was my favorite. 

The driveway swung around in a semi-circle outside the front door and throughout the centre of the driveway we'd designed and had built a smaller but perfectly formed replica of the fountain in Dubai so that we would be reminded of our honeymoon.  In light of what actually happened on that holiday I must have been having a mad moment when I'd agreed to have one built on the doorstep!

The house itself was a five bedroomed manor house and as soon as we'd seen it for sale I'd fallen in love with it, it was my dream house and there was nothing in our way to stop us from having it.  The stonework of the house had been quarried locally and every window and door was in its original glory; huge bay, sashed windows looked out over the copious, green and flowered scenery, it was like something from an English period drama.  The front door opened into a spectacular, wide opened hallway with tiled flooring and a grand staircase in the centre, it was the main feature of the hallway along with the stained glass window that when the sun shone through sent a multitude of kaleidoscopic colors cascading down into the stairwell. 

Two reception rooms opened off on either side, one was a main living room, and the other was used when we had guests come over.  Down past the staircase at the back of the hall was a door to the kitchen, when we'd first bought the house the kitchen was smaller but we'd extended into an existing outhouse that was considered unnecessary, turning it into an extensive, bright and more useful space in which we spent the majority of our time.  A separate dining room with a conservatory on the side was at the very back of the house which allowed us to sit and view the back garden area along with orchards and grassy meadows.  The upstairs was every bit as grand as the downstairs, the five bedrooms all contained views to die for and at the very top of the house we'd converted the loft area into a bathroom to rival all bathrooms complete with walk in shower and a circular Jacuzzi bath tub.  John had insisted on a particular feature which I had to admit was probably one of the best design concepts in the house; a glass roof.  There was nothing more affluent than soaking in a bath underneath the stars.

Another decorative luxury that gave me immense pleasure was our extensive collection of art, John had initially inspired me to explore this interest as he'd already owned a few impressive pieces of his own, once I'd started to travel more and visit some of the more famous museums and art galleries I realized and John agreed, that my flair for choosing particular specialties was on a par with his taste, everyone who walked through our doors commented on it.

During the run up to the garden party John left me to it, it was neither his scene nor on his tolerance level, plus his patience was always tested when Miguel was around; he was far too uptight to accept Miguel with a pinch of salt or a plum in his mouth; they were very different people and John knew when to keep his distance, for his own well-being.  Miguel took devilish delight in pushing all the wrong buttons in John's nature, his playful flirting, flamboyant mannerisms and bossiness drove John to distraction so he made himself as scarce as possible.

I had decided to work at home on the approaching week which gave John the perfect excuse to stay in the city apartment, suited me too, and gave me some space and some fun time with Miguel.  As John and I said our goodbyes in the hallway, Miguel floated past eclipsed by a giant floral display that was to be mounted in the conservatory, suddenly popping his head out from beneath the petals he blew and air kiss in John's direction, it was met with a curling lip of disapproval to which Miguel purposely sing-songed “Bye my darling, missing you already.”

Playfully, I poked Miguel in his ribs, “Ouch!! Bitch!” he gasped.

Once John's car had disappeared down the driveway I felt my body and sanity relax.  I did love him and I knew in his own selfish way he loved me but it was nice to have some time apart and appreciate each other more when everything was organized, in its place and ready to enjoy.  John wasn't good with the preparation side of things and I wasn't good with the seriousness he shrouded everything in.  He was prolific in business but his people skills left a lot to be desired, I was equally dynamic in the boardroom but managed to deal with people on their level rather than on a level they were expected to be on, I didn't look down on people as John did, he was very impatient with anyone who was deemed to be lower in status than him and it provided him with many enemies.

Cracking open a mid-week bottle of wine was considered quite frowned up in John's eyes but John's eyes were no longer able to frown upon us, I'd finished work for the day and Miguel needed assistance, the wine was to smooth down the edges of a busy day.  I found Miguel fussing over his florals and passed him a glass.

“Darling you must have climbed inside my mind,” he smiled, “Has lover boy deserted you at last?”

“Miguel, honestly you must stop teasing him like you do, you get far too much enjoyment out of it,”

“That's the point,” he winked, playfully.

After three bottles of wine and ordering a takeaway there wasn't a lot of planning done that night in the end so as Miguel was staying over in the guest room, I kissed him goodnight and made my way up to bed, it was late, 3am in the morning in fact and although I was in a position to choose my own working hours, I was always an early riser and three hours sleep was going to prove somewhat of a challenge.  In a slightly drunken state I decided to call John to say goodnight, he was quite opposite in the fact that he very often stayed up throughout the night and caught sleep whilst travelling on planes, he was one of those very annoying people who could survive on minimal sleep and when he did sleep he could sleep anywhere, standing up if necessary.

The phone connected but gave me the engaged tone, typical of him to be discussing some crucial business deal, probably to the other side of the world where their time difference was more appropriate to them.  I surrendered to my drooping lids and lost myself in sleep.