Page 11 of Dust Storm
Cassandra had popped the trunk and was heaving a suitcase the size of a small bedroom out of the back. She didn’t even teeter on those ice picks she was walking around on.
I cut my eyes to the jackass who didn’t care enough to give her a hand. “He’s not gonna help you?”
She didn’t even give her fiancé a quick glance. “He’s busy.”
“I’ll get it, Cass,” I grunted as I stepped up to help.
Her head snapped so hard I was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. “It’sCassandra.”
I chuckled as I unloaded the rest of her five suitcases. “Alright, Princess.”
Her lips twitched in a thin line.
I tipped my chin toward the cabin. “Go on in. Should be unlocked.”
“I can get my bags,” she insisted.
I stepped closer. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to.” I tipped my head toward the door. “Inside. I have shit to do.”
Cassandra relented and strutted toward the cabin. If I was a betting man, I’d say that a cabin with electricity and water was her version of “roughing it.”
But I didn’t say that out loud.
I hung back a second longer and indulged myself in another look at that ass. Cassandra’s fancy white pants were out of place on a cattle ranch, but I wasn’t complaining.
I let myself appreciate the way they made her legs look a mile long. If the shit stain who put a ring on her finger wouldn’t appreciate the way she looked, why shouldn’t I?
I snapped out of it when I smelled Tripp getting closer.
It took Cassandra a few tries of wiggling the doorknob before she got the door open.
“The light switch is on the wall to the right,” I said as I pack-muled her luggage toward the cabin.
She reached inside, feeling around on the wall until she found the switch. Her head of blonde hair had barely slipped inside when I heard the scream.
I dropped her suitcases and shoved my way inside, while Tripp bolted behind the car.
I huffed when I saw what gave Cassandra a conniption. “Goddamn it, Mickey.”
Gracie’s pet was lying on a couch that had seen better days.
He let out a moo, and Cassandra screamed again.
“Why is there a cow in the cabin?!”
“His name is Mickey. He’s real sweet.”
“There’s a cow in my house!”
“Pet cow.”
Slowly, I unloaded my arms and picked up her fallen sunglasses.
Shit.
I froze on one knee as I looked up at her. She had the prettiest eyes—slate gray and sparkling.
Cassandra stammered as she ran a hand through her thick blonde hair. “And why are there—” she blinked in disbelief “—are those pool noodles on his horns?”
