Page 42 of Dust Storm

Cassandra didn’t seem to be bothered by me speaking my mind, so I didn’t hold back. “He’s getting it from somewhere else.”

That motherfucker would have to be out of his mind to be celibate when he had a woman like Cassandra, who found some slightly redeeming quality in him.

She stared down at the reins, her gaze never leaving Libby’s rust-colored coat.

Libby led herself back into the barn and self-parked beside her stall. I dismounted and took Cassandra’s hands, coaching her through getting down. She fell at me rather than hopping down.

It was slightly less graceful than a bird kicking its baby out of a nest.

I caught her as she collided into my chest. “Yeah,” I grunted. “We’ll work on that.”

Instead of making her untack Libby the way Bree and Gracie were always supposed to, I talked her through each step as I did it while she stroked Libby’s nose.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said as we headed back to the house.

I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her hand. Having her against my body while we were riding felt so natural. The loss of it stung.

“Yeah?” I lifted a curious eyebrow. “You liked it?”

“I didn’t say I liked it. I said thank you,” she clarified.

But I caught her smiling.

I stopped on the porch and grabbed her discarded high heels. “That’s alright, Princess. Keep it to yourself, but I know Libby will win you over eventually.”

Cassandra paused in the doorway, leaving us chest-to-chest again. Her eyes were heavy as she studied my mouth. “I doubt it.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Electricity sizzled between us, sparking and crackling, but neither of us made a move.

Something heavy thumped on the far side of the porch. Cassandra’s eyes finally lifted from mine, then rolled.

I looked over my shoulder and found Gracie’s pet lumbering up the steps. Someone had put a fresh set of pool noodles on his horns.

“Get out of here, Mickey,” she hollered.

I smirked as I threw my arm around her shoulders and steered her inside.

Cassandra would do just fine here. She just didn’t know it yet.

“I’m not a breakfast person,”Cassandra said as she emerged from the guest room.

Of course she wasn’t.I kept the thought to myself as I shoveled eggs and sausage onto Bree and Gracie’s plates and tried to coax them into eating.

Cassandra didn’t float past me. She didn’t even strut. She stomped toward the coffee maker like an angry runway model.

Another day, another pair of heels.

I was starting to wonder how many pairs of shoes she’d brought.

I owned a grand total of three pairs of shoes. A pair of work boots, a pair of dress boots, and a pair of rarely used sneakers.

Cassandra had been here for three days and I had seen five different pairs of shoes.

“Whoa,” Gracie said as a waffle hung halfway out of her mouth. She looked at Cassandra like Dolly Parton herself had just walked into the kitchen.

“Where’d you get that dress?” Bree whispered with reverence.

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