crazy about CEO cowboy

child, I was always overweight. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I looked like a blob of fat. However, when I turned eighteen, I tried hard to get the body I had always wanted. And in doing so, I created an unfair image of myself. I starved, worked hard and was a completely unhappy person. Then I met Mal and I had to keep forcing myself to eat well, or not eat at all, to please my husband. Then I got injured, was forced to slack off, and gained weight. Unable to work out, I had slacked off, and my husband had lost interest in me since I was no longer his perfect little wife.

It took me six weeks to get healthy enough to exercise again and two weeks later to realize my husband was cheating on me. Within a week, I filed for divorce, and if it weren't for Mal's father, Malloy, I would have drowned. Unfortunately for Mal, when the divorce happened, Malloy took my side. Meaning I had taken Mal's entire family away from him in one fell swoop. Not that I was trying to do that or anything. I would have gladly given this to Mal if he had just worked with me on the house payment, but he has turned into a raving lunatic, and a man I no longer recognize. “You look like you’re having fun,” Mal scoffs. “I can’t wait for you to see the checks. Oh, and before I forget. My dad said something funny today.” He continues as if he can't tell he's making me uncomfortable. “He said you’re going to participate in the Spartan Texas Race. What is this foolish plan you have?” He is right. But what he doesn't know is that I made a promise last night. Today will be my last day of eating like garbage. It will be the last day I put anything in my body that is unhealthy for me for at least the next few months as I train my butt for the Texas Spartan Race, which I signed up for as a spur of the moment sport decision last night. I was lying in my bed, feeling sorry for myself, and had seen the announcement on my timeline on my social media page, as I scrolled through all my friends' happy lives. Since I baked cakes for a living and made a living pretty much by word of mouth through social media, I spent a lot of time there looking for ideas and promoting the hell out of myself. And when I saw this on my timeline, I remembered when I ran the race with Mal last year. We were already having problems at this point, so when I expressed interest in wanting to go for it, he practically laughed in my face and told me I couldn't do it. So when I saw him again last night, I made a snap decision and signed up, even though I knew it would probably take everything I had to give to even finish the race, let alone rock it. This was also why, when I saw the training camp just below, which takes place with two ex-military men helping to run it who were 'getting ready for the race', I signed up both myself and my best friend for it. However, she still doesn't know this fun fact. I have a plan to meet her after lunch to discuss this with her. However, she is applying for a job and is late. "Yes." I nodded. “I mentioned it to him.” I know what his next words will be without even thinking outside the box. He's so predictable. What he tells me confirms my guess about what will come out of his mouth moments later. “You know, right, that you’re not going to do well?” he asks bluntly. I want to punch him in the dick. “I signed up for a boot camp that will help me achieve my goal of finishing,” I say patiently, not wanting to create a scene. This is my favorite restaurant, and I want to be able to go back to this place after all is said and done with the man and the bitch standing in front of me. “Well, good luck with that,” Marjorie scoffs. “Me and Mal are working together this year. Can not wait." Wonderful. On one of the biggest days of my life, I would have to see them. Yay. "That's great." I take my chips and pop them in my mouth. “You won’t get anywhere eating like this.” He shakes his head. “I thought you told Dad you didn’t have any money. If you don’t have money, how exactly can you go out to eat and buy things like that?” Sigh. “I received a gift card.” By dad, of course, but it's a gift card nonetheless. He got one from his clients and then gave it to me because a little hole in the wall wasn't Malloy's cup of tea. Malloy's tastes were more refined... and they leaned toward two-hundred-dollar steaks and not ten-dollar hamburgers. “Show the checks” whispers Marjorie. She grits her teeth at his unpleasant voice. "Yes." He smiled. “She’ll really like them.” There he goes again with the checks. Son of a bitch. God, what did I see in him? Seriously, I can't see an inch of the man I thought I fell in love with. Sigh. “How about you show me now and give the anticipation a rest.” He takes pride in taking out his wallet, opening it, and showing me the new checks he will send me every month. They're a photo of Mal and Marjorie, kissing, with Marjorie holding her hand up to the camera with my ring on her finger. My. Ring. My. Son of a bitch. You cocksucker. Ring. A family heirloom. I'm literally going to kill him. Right there and there. Followed shortly by her. I look at the knife that was wrapped around my napkin with the fork and then at Marjorie's finger. The sad thing is, I seriously considered it. Seriously. If I didn't need my job, I would seriously consider cutting off her finger just to get it. “You do realize, correct,” I say softly, “that was my grandmother's ring. This has been used by every woman in my family for the last four hundred and twenty years.” I had lost my wedding ring in the confusion. However, I knew I hadn't lost it. I suspected Mal had done something with it when he moved in, and apparently he did. Apparently he had given it to his new wife. I seriously want to kill them both. My hand curls around the steak in my hand, and I have to have a constant 'don't kill him' mantra in my head as he smiles like he's pulled one on me. Someone sits next to me, but I'm so crazy I don't even register who it is. I'm too busy telling myself that the color orange isn't good for redheads. Chapter 2 According to Google, I can eat seven donuts a day if I don't drink a Coca-Cola. -Maybe you shouldn't always trust what you read on the internet. Callum I watch her from across the restaurant. I'm in the last thirty minutes. I noticed her the moment she walked through the door and have openly eyed her ever since. “Can I serve you something else?” The waitress, a cute little blonde