Page 14 of Dust Storm

“Give Libby some sugar, and she’ll love you unconditionally.”

Cassandra didn’t move. She was stiff as a board, so I did what I had done with the girls when they had to get acquainted with the animals as babies. I cradled the back of her hand in my palmand lifted the peppermint to Libby. The horse didn’t hesitate to go for it.

Cassandra flinched, letting out a petrified shriek as Libby’s mouth touched her fingers.

“You’ve gotta stop screaming,” I murmured into her ear. I put my hand on her hip to keep her steady as Libby nibbled away at the candy, then backed away.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Cassandra spun on me. “You’re fucked in the head if you think I’ll get up on that thing.”

“Take your shoes off.”

“Absolutely not,” she clipped.

“That’s fine,” I said as I positioned Libby so Cassandra could get up using the stirrups. “Keep ’em on then. Up you go.”

Cassandra protested the entire way up. Finally, I got her situated on the saddle.

“Sorry. Tight fit,” I said as I settled on Libby’s back, behind the lip of the saddle. “Riding double sucks.”

What didn’t suck was my view of her hips and thighs.Damn. That ass.

I looked up at the sky and prayed for my dick to calm down.

It had been a while since I’d gotten any action.

Okay, it had been a long while.

The moment Libby took a step, Cassandra flopped forward and nearly fell off.

“Keep your back straight,” I said as I bracketed her between my arms and took the reins.

“You’d better be taking me straight back to the airport on this thing.”

Her walls were crumbling and it tugged at something inside of me. “How about I take you to a spot with cell service and the internet?”

Cassandra was pacingmy living room when I carried her bags inside. After putting Libby back in her stall, I drove my truck down the cabin to get her luggage and bring it up to my house.

Her posture was tight as she paused and stared at the wall while listening to whoever was on the other end.

Dirt streaked the white pantsuit she was in. Her hair was slightly mussed and disheveled from running her hands through it.

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she stared at a spot on the rug where Gracie had spilled a cup of juice a few years ago. I had tried and tried, but the stain never came out.

The floorboard creaked under my boot, and Cassandra whipped around. From the look on her face, it was clear as day that the conversation wasn’t going in her favor. Her brows were furrowed and her lips were pursed. She tapped the pointed toe of her high heel on the carpet and returned her eyes to the other side of the room.

Every time her gaze hit me, it was sharp, quick, and decisive. She made fast judgments about who people were and what they would mean to her faster than I could rope a calf.

I emptied my arms and headed to the kitchen while she finished her phone call with clipped, staccato acknowledgements.

“Doesn’t sound too good,” I said when she ended the call with a soft growl of frustration.

“You could say that,” Cassandra said as she kept her back to me.

I checked the time. The girls would be home from dance any minute, and we’d head up to the ranch house for one of the bi-weekly dinners my mom insisted we join her for.

I knew it was her way of giving me a break. I should have refused, but truthfully, it was nice not having to cook twice a week.

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