Page 130 of Dust Storm

“Girls, we can talk about this at home, but it’s getting late and?—”

“Come along,” Momma said as she eased out of the corner she had been hiding in. “Let’s leave your dad and Cass to eat in peace, knowing that homework is already done. And since you’ve got some dishes to help me with back at my house, we’ll make it a sleepover and I’ll get you to school in the morning.” She gave me a passing wink.

Bree and Gracie scurried out of the kitchen and threw their arms around me, then hugged Cassandra.

“Please talk to her, Daddy,” Bree said, letting go of Cass and grabbing my hand the way she used to when she was little. “Please?”

I kissed her head. “I love you, baby girl. Thank you for doing this. It was very thoughtful of you.”

One by one, they filed out and headed back.

Cassandra let out a weighted breath and slumped against the brand new cabinets. “I don’t know how parents put up with the emotional manipulation. That was exhausting.”

“It starts early,” I said, taking a peek at the plates that were packed full. “You build up an immunity.”

Cassandra looked around. “So, what do we do now? Wait until they’re far enough away and then leave?”

I pulled out one of the kitchen chairs. “We eat.”

27

CASSANDRA

Ihuffed, slumping against the countertops. “Christian, I can’t do this.”

The cabin was decorated in flickering candles and string lights. An old school record player played softly in the background as Nat King Cole spelled out L-O-V-E.

It was all too much.

“Cass.” His voice was soft. “It’s just dinner.”

As much as I wanted to fight it, I was tired. I had been working non-stop, getting all the pieces in place for the groundbreaking celebration. When it was all said and done, so was I.

The investment deal with Lawson International had been signed. I connected Christian with one of their representatives, and then made sure that she had Momma Griffith’s and Becks’s contact information just in case.

Christian had a penchant for escaping to the pastures when he got stressed. It gave me a contingency plan to make sure things ran smoothly and they wouldn’t have to call me.

But part of me—a larger part than I wanted to admit—wanted that phone call.

I wanted to be needed.

But was being needed worth getting hurt again?

“How about this?” Christian said. “If I promise not to say a word, will you eat with me?” He glanced down at the plated meal set out on the table. “Looks like the girls put a lot of work into it… Probably the least we can do before I go back and have a talk with them.”

Relenting, I sat and let him push my seat in because I knew better than to argue with him about it.

Christian’s silence was unnerving as we cut into our steaks.

They were perfectly cooked to medium rare with flawless cross-hatched grill marks. I paused with my knife over the middle of the steak. “Is that…” I cocked my head. “Is that a brand?” I asked, looking up at him.

Sure enough, there was a circle around the middle of the steak with the outline of a longhorn cow and the ranch’s initials.

Christian’s lips twitched in a smile, but he didn’t make a peep.

“Right.” I stabbed a small bite and popped it into my mouth. “Not talking.”

His eyes turned down to his plate and he kept eating.

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