Page 33 of Dust Storm

The woman stuck out like a sore thumb, but part of me—a deeply repressed part of me—really fucking liked it.

I got Bree and Gracie settled at the house when they got home from school, then took care of my evening chores before swinging by the cabin to see what work needed to be done to get it habitable.

Everything. Everything needed to be done.

The pipes were cast-iron and corroded. I was fairly certain if I turned on more than one switch, I’d spark an electrical fire. More critters lived inside than outside.

I could get one of the more reliable boys to get in there and fix it up over the next few weeks. But for now, it was uninhabitable.

Fuck.

“She’s got a nice rack.”

The comment from good-for-nothing Jackson ate at me as I scrubbed grease from my hands under the spigot.

He was already at the top of my shit list for dicking around when he should have been working on the cabin. If he ran his mouth anymore, he was about to be unemployed.

Someone else laughed. “I bet that pretty face hides her crazy.”

“Did you see the rock on her finger? Bet she’s got some poor guy by the balls.”

“A nice piece of ass isn’t worth her bitch face,” Jackson said.

I cut the water off and rounded the corner. “What was that?”

The cluster of cowboys froze around the turnout.

I had heard the whispers all damn day. I knew Cassandra had too. Maybe that’s why she had holed up in my office, taking over my desk and color coding shit.

I raised my eyebrows. “Well. Speak up if you’ve got somethin’ to say.”

Jackson shifted his eyes left and right, waiting for someone else to be the sacrificial lamb.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” I said as I rested my hands on my hips. “Wanna share with the class?”

“Doesn’t make sense, is all,” he sneered.

I beckoned him closer with a crook of my finger. “What’s that now?”

Jackson was out of grade school, but he acted like a twelve-year-old. CJ swore up and down that he was a good kid—that he just needed some guidance.

That made him CJ’s problem.

But since Cassandra was my problem, I wasn’t going to let this slide.

He scuffed the toe of his boot into the dirt. “Just don’t make sense that we can’t get raises, but you’re spending big bucks bringing in that snooty bitch to fuck around the ranch.”

A wry laugh escaped my mouth as I crowded him up against the pipe fencing that kept the horses contained. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion or seeing any work from you that’s worth a raise.” I fisted the front of his plaid-checked shirt instead of clocking him across the jaw. “Now. I have another question for you.”

His top lip pulled up in a sneer. Jackson had the body of a string bean with a linebacker attitude. But he didn’t make a peep.

“Is that how you talk about my daughters?”

Jackson’s nostrils flared. “No.”

“What was that?” I clipped.

“No,sir.”

---