Page 103 of Dust Storm

“You’re really living it up on your day off.”

Christian chuckled as he rinsed the last one off and unplugged the drain. “I put off cleaning out the fridge as long as I could. Things were starting to walk around in there.” He glanced down at my bare feet. “Did you have a good time out with Becks?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

He sprayed the sink down, then dried his hands. “Why is that surprising?”

I followed him to the living room and curled up on one end of the couch while he took the other. “We were professional acquaintances, not friends. I never spent time with her outside of work or events.”

Christian stretched his arm across the back of the couch, letting his fingertips play with my hair, but he never closed the space between us. “I have a feeling you have a lot of ‘professional acquaintances, but not friends.’”

“You can stick that judgmental tone up your?—”

He laughed. “I’m not judging you, Cass. Just making an observation. Besides, I’m not one to talk. Not like I have a social life.”

His fingers grazed my scalp, and I melted.Maybe if I sat a little closer, he’d massage my head.I disguised moving six inches closer by readjusting the throw pillow behind my back.

“So, what do you do when you’re kid-free?” I asked as he dug his fingers into my hair and scratched up and down.Oh my god, that was better than an orgasm.

Christian kept scratching my head. “I’ll catch up on housework. Sometimes Nate or CJ will come down and we’ll have beers.”

“That sounds dreadful,” I said, letting my head rest more heavily against his hand as my eyes fluttered closed. “You need to learn how to go out.”

Christian didn’t immediately answer.

I tilted my head backward. “Tell me what you really do.”

“I just told you.”

“I believe you. But I doubt all you do is wash dishes and drink beer.”

His hand moved from my head, squeezing all the way down my neck, working at the knots in my muscles.

I scooted a little closer.

“Sometimes I’ll get out of town for the night.”

I smirked. “Now that, I believe.” I looked back at him again. “Where do you go?”

“Little town east. There’s a bar called The Silver Spur. It’s a good time. I’ll go out there and get a motel room after. Let off a little steam.”

A soft hum escaped my mouth. “I respect not shitting where you sleep.”

“I didn’t say I?—”

“I know what getting a room in another town means. In my previous life, I was the one booking those rooms for people. I even booked a few of my own.”

He was silent.

“Were you planning on leaving the ranch tonight?” I asked.

“No.”

And for some reason, I believed him.

22

CHRISTIAN

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