Page 121 of Dust Storm

The corner of her mouth trembled. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not the kind of person you should be involved with.” She swallowed, strengthening her resolve. “I won’t change.”

“I’m not asking you to.” I ran my hand down my beard. “I just want you to be honest with yourself. With me.”

“I am,” she shot back.

“No,” I barked, cutting her off. “If you were honest, you wouldn’t be so fucking wishy-washy—wanting me and then pushing me away. I’m done with that. If you were honest, you’d admit you’re miserable doing what you’re doing. But that’s on you. If you want to be miserable, then be my guest. You want so badly to be right that you can’t even tolerate the thought thatmaybe, just fucking maybe you and I could have something good. So yeah. I’m asking for it, Cass. Because I’m not a coward.”

The last sentence hit her like a shot.

The fence post creaked and let out a groan as it tipped, cracked, and fell into the grass.

Neither of us flinched.

So much for playing for money. I was leaving the table with empty pockets.

We walked back to the house in silence and found the rest of my family cleaning up from dinner.

CJ smirked when he saw us. “How’s that fence?”

Cassandra flipped him off.

I trudged in behind her, angrier than when I had left. “I’ll fix it in the morning.”

25

CASSANDRA

“He tied me to a fence and fucked me.” I stabbed my spoon into my bowl of ice cream.

Mickey blinked at me from across the office, letting out a deep bovine grunt.

The pool noodles on his horns had been replaced yesterday. He now sported a lime-green one on the left and purple on the right.

I stared at the bottle of bourbon that had been on my—Christian’s—desk since, presumably, the wee hours of the morning. The note that had been stuck to the front taunted me.

Bourbon pairs better with mint chocolate chip.

No signature. No initials.Not that I needed it to know who had left the liquor.

It had been two days since Christian demanded I make a choice that I wasn’t ready for. And two days of me avoiding him.

“After giving me an ultimatum,” I grumbled over a mouthful of ice cream.

I had just gotten off a call with Mike—my boss at the Carrington Group—who let me know that, while the Griffiths had given raving feedback about my job performance, I wouldstill have to meet with HR due to the aftermath of my relationship with Tripp.

Just fucking great.

I had gone through an entire fling after ending things with Tripp, and yet he was still haunting me.

But after a quick call to Spenser Crenshaw, an old contact who owed me a favor, I’d be haunting Tripp soon enough.

Anger made me revenge-y. And since I couldn’t take that anger out on Christian, Tripp was the next best target.

The knife in his face on the dartboard wasn’t enough to satisfy my blood lust.

“I mean, how dare he? We hooked up a handful of times. It’s not like we were in a relationship and I put my foot down that it wasn’t going any further. I’m not the one at fault here.He’sthe one who nuked it.” I pointed my spoon at the cow who had let himself into the office and laid on top of Sadie’s dog bed, flattening it.

Mickey huffed in annoyance.

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