Page 81 of Dust Storm

But Christian liked my freckles…

I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I didn’t want butterflies. I didn’t need butterflies.

Christian Griffith was a lot of things, but he wasn’t my type.

“You’re coming with us?” Gracie blurted out the moment her sneakers hit the landing. “Best. Morning. Ever.”

Bree came down shortly after, grabbed one of the breakfast tacos Christian had wrapped up in aluminum foil, and took a hearty bite.

Her breezy white skirt stopped at her knees. The turquoise shirt she was in brought out her eyes and made her skin warm.The old Chuck Taylors with permanent marker scribbles on the toes were timeless.

“Is that what you’re wearing to school?” I asked over the last sip of coffee.

Bree looked down. “Is it okay?”

I recognized each of the pieces from the fashion show I was forced to endure the night before, but she had paired them with other garments. This was a more curated version of Bree and it made her glow.

“You look like a great version of yourself.” I tapped my thumb against the coffee mug. “Hold on.”

I disappeared into the guest room and rummaged around until I found what I was looking for.

Bree was watching curiously as she finished her breakfast.

I let the gold necklace dangle from my fingertips. The charm was a looping gold bow. It was dainty and feminine and perfect for her.

“Pull your hair back,” I said as I unclasped it and looped it around her neck.

“This is probably really expensive,” she said softly. “I don’t want to break it or lose it or something.”

“I wouldn’t let you wear it if I thought you wouldn’t take care of it.” I fastened the necklace and smoothed her hair down. “Square necklines need a little something extra. And it’ll make you hold your head high.”

Bree threw her arms around me and squeezed.

“Okay, okay—” I shooed her away as my throat prickled. “That’s unnecessary. It’s just jewelry.”

A male throat cleared behind me. “Everything okay here?” Christian asked.

“Daddy, look!” Bree beamed as she looked up and held out the charm.

Christian looked a little sad as he smiled back at her. “You look great, baby girl.”

We piled into the truck and set off on the bumpy drive off the ranch. When we got to the girls’ school, I avoided eye contact with the teachers who were overseeing the drop-off line, but they didn’t avoid eye contact with me.

“They’re just mad you’re here because all the teachers and moms want to date dad,” Gracie informed me, to Christian’s utter dismay.

He tried his best to regain his composure. “Love you, Gracie. Love you, Bree. Have a good day.”

I kept my laughter in until we were safely away from prying eyes. “I had no idea I was in the company of such a hot commodity.”

Christian grunted. “I’m not a commodity. It’s just slim pickings around here.”

“Is that why you haven’t remarried?” I asked, seizing the opportunity.

But he decided to avoid the question altogether. “Let’s just get you to the beauty parlor so you can look like Dolly. I’ve got shit to do.”

We rode silently to the little downtown strip. Christian pulled into a space and gave me the speech I imagine he had prepared for when he dropped his kids off on their own.

Call me if you need anything. Let me know if you go anywhere else. I’ll be back in a few hours. Do you have your phone? Your wallet?

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