Page 109 of Dust Storm

I rolled my eyes. The desk chair squeaked as a wheel caught on a loose piece of hay.

“Cass?”

I was alone, so I let a giddy smile slip at the sound of Christian’s voice. I grabbed the radio. “Right here, cowboy. Where else would I be?”

Static crackled. “Didn’t know if you decided to go get some fresh air or go on a ride or something.”

I laughed. “As if I’d get on a wild animal voluntarily.”

He snickered. “You did alright the other night.”

Was he talking about the family trail ride he forced me to join in on, or the clandestine hookup we had in the office after the girls were in bed? I certainly did alright riding him.

The radio clicked. “Stop flirting on the line,” CJ groused.

Christian came back on. “You’ve got a suit poking around at the front gates. Might wanna go see what he wants before one of the ranch hands sees fit to hogtie him and smoke him low and slow.”

I groaned. “There’s no one closer?”

“We’re out on the far side of the property. Trail cameras picked up the car. Take Dottie. She’s tacked up.”

My stomach dropped. “Can’t I take your truck?”

“Can you drive stick?”

Grumbling, I kicked off my heels and yanked open the desk drawer for a pair of socks. “Don’t be mad when I wreck your horse.”

I had stolen a thick pair of Christian’s socks to keep on hand for when he made me do outdoorsy activities against my will. The boots he got me lived under the desk for moments like this.

I stared at the target on the far wall as I pulled the boots on. Christian had mounted a piece of plywood on the wall so I could practice with his throwing knives.

The photos I found online of Tripp and Principal Beeker were sliced to ribbons.

I looked absolutely ridiculous in a blazer, high-waisted trousers, and cowboy boots, but it was better than ruining my beloved heels.

I trudged out to the barn and found Dottie hanging out in her stall.

She looked at me with those big horse eyes as if to say, “Oh. You again.”

For a brief moment, I contemplated walking, then decided better of it. I didn’t have time to trek up there or take my blouse to the dry cleaner to deal with the sweat stains.

“Alright, work with me,” I said as I hesitantly took the rope, leading her out of her stall.

She came willingly, but that didn’t make me feel any better. I was certain I could mount her, make it out of the barn, and then I would fall to my death.

Dottie stood still as I held on to the saddle and let out a breath. Placing my foot in the stirrup, I pushed up and swung my leg over her back.

Okay, I could do this.

Dottie shifted, but I kept my hips loose.

“Posture like a princess, hips like a whore,” I whispered to myself as I gave her a little squeeze with my legs.

I felt ridiculous as Dottie loped past the office building, barns, and equipment shops. Sadie spotted us as we passed the house and bolted off the porch to follow.

When had I started calling it “the house?” I had always called it Christian’s house. I liked the distance of that language.

And when had Sadie stopped trying to herd me?

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