Page 135 of Dust Storm

“Can Miss Cass do my hair for school today? I want curls and you hate the curling iron.”

“I can use a fucking curling iron,” he grumbled under his breath.

I clapped my hand over my mouth to hide my laughter.

“Uh, maybe if she wakes up in time, but you’ll have to ask her,” he yelled back.

“Can you ask her?” Bree countered.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Christian leaned close to my ear. “You have some reputation damage control to do, then. I’ve been telling everyone your broom is in the shop and that’s why you have to hitch rides everywhere.”

I swatted his stomach.

A lazy smile graced him. It was a good look.

“I’ll ask her when she comes out of her room,” he hollered, spinning a little white lie.

Silently, I mouthed, “Thank you.”

Christian nodded.

Bree groaned. “Ugh. Dad, I know she’s in your room. I need extra time getting ready today, so I got up early. Y’all are usually up by now anyway. I hear you walking around every morning.”

I dropped my hand onto my face.

“Busted,” he whispered before burying his face into my hair. “She’s got an attitude like her momma had.”

“Thirteen going on thirty. The sass is strong with that one.” With a huff, I yelled, “Give me ten minutes and go start the coffee pot.”

“Thank you!” Bree squealed, scurrying away from the door and running into the kitchen.

I glared at Christian. “You said they’d never know.”

He shrugged. “They do now. But you know what?”

“Hmm?”

Christian tightened his arms around me. “The world didn’t end.”

28

CHRISTIAN

The ranch was alive. Cars and trucks were parked in neat lines along the front pasture. String lights and lanterns marked the path that started at the front gate and looped around the property.

Cassandra had convinced a local company to donate a fleet of golf carts to ferry guests down the freshly grated dirt lane.

Ranch hands were mounted on horses, keeping curious guests from peeking behind the metaphorical curtain.

Cassandra and Ray had worked with his sponsors to have them pony up for the bar and catering.With adequate signage and company representatives on sight to rub elbows with the who’s who of groundbreaking attendees.

The billowing white tent had been donated, thanks to a local rental company that Cassandra promised would be an exclusively recommended vendor when the event space was up and running.

She fucking pulled it off.

I could barely believe it. The ranch lookedgood. It had been a push to get the place cleaned up and ready, but she had whipped everyone into shape.

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