Page 11 of Dust Storm

Cassandra had popped the trunk and was heaving a suitcase the size of a small bedroom out of the back. She didn’t even teeter on those ice picks she was walking around on.

I cut my eyes to the jackass who didn’t care enough to give her a hand. “He’s not gonna help you?”

She didn’t even give her fiancé a quick glance. “He’s busy.”

“I’ll get it, Cass,” I grunted as I stepped up to help.

Her head snapped so hard I was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. “It’sCassandra.”

I chuckled as I unloaded the rest of her five suitcases. “Alright, Princess.”

Her lips twitched in a thin line.

I tipped my chin toward the cabin. “Go on in. Should be unlocked.”

“I can get my bags,” she insisted.

I stepped closer. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to.” I tipped my head toward the door. “Inside. I have shit to do.”

Cassandra relented and strutted toward the cabin. If I was a betting man, I’d say that a cabin with electricity and water was her version of “roughing it.”

But I didn’t say that out loud.

I hung back a second longer and indulged myself in another look at that ass. Cassandra’s fancy white pants were out of place on a cattle ranch, but I wasn’t complaining.

I let myself appreciate the way they made her legs look a mile long. If the shit stain who put a ring on her finger wouldn’t appreciate the way she looked, why shouldn’t I?

I snapped out of it when I smelled Tripp getting closer.

It took Cassandra a few tries of wiggling the doorknob before she got the door open.

“The light switch is on the wall to the right,” I said as I pack-muled her luggage toward the cabin.

She reached inside, feeling around on the wall until she found the switch. Her head of blonde hair had barely slipped inside when I heard the scream.

I dropped her suitcases and shoved my way inside, while Tripp bolted behind the car.

I huffed when I saw what gave Cassandra a conniption. “Goddamn it, Mickey.”

Gracie’s pet was lying on a couch that had seen better days.

He let out a moo, and Cassandra screamed again.

“Why is there a cow in the cabin?!”

“His name is Mickey. He’s real sweet.”

“There’s a cow in my house!”

“Pet cow.”

Slowly, I unloaded my arms and picked up her fallen sunglasses.

Shit.

I froze on one knee as I looked up at her. She had the prettiest eyes—slate gray and sparkling.

Cassandra stammered as she ran a hand through her thick blonde hair. “And why are there—” she blinked in disbelief “—are those pool noodles on his horns?”

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