Page 131 of Dust Storm

I made it halfway through my roasted potatoes before I couldn’t take it anymore. “Fine. Let’s talk,” I blurted out, dropping my fork onto the plate with a clatter.

His beard fluttered, and I knew that jackass was smiling underneath it.

Christian slowly set his fork and knife down and looked me dead in the eye. “Would you like some wine?”

“Really? That’s what you wanted to ask? I can pour my own fucking wine.”

Apparently, Christian took that as a “yes.” He reached into the ice bucket perched on the edge of the table and pulled the cork out of a bottle of Salado Diamond Back. I watched as the redblend splashed into the crystal glass, and contemplated what the hell I was doing with my life.

I was tired.

Christian set the bottle down and slid a glass to my side of the table.

“How was your ride?” he asked, and I froze. “Yeah, I know about it,” Christian said as he resumed eating.

“It was fine,” I hedged, pushing an asparagus spear across the plate. “It’s a good way to clear my head.”

To my surprise, he nodded as he took a sip of wine. Ruby droplets clung to his mustache. “It is.”

I gritted my teeth, grinding the steak to a paste.Why was he being so amicable?

Fine. If he was going to play nice, then I’d ask what I really wanted to know. At least I didn’t have to tiptoe around him the way I used to do around Tripp.

“What are you going to tell Bree and Gracie?”

Christian sighed. His warm eyes looked like soft flames in the candlelight. “That I tried.”

Ice flooded my veins. “You tried.”

“That’s right.”

“You didn’t try, cowboy. You tied me to a pole and gave me an ultimatum.”

“Fence post.”

“Same thing.”

Christian picked up his glass by the stem and swirled the wine around. “I tried my best, Cass. Did I do it right? No. But that’s what I’m going to tell them. Because they learn by watching me. They deserve to know that I put myself out there. Success isn’t guaranteed. Happily ever after isn’t guaranteed. Happily ever eternity sure as fuck isn’t guaranteed, but they learned that one a long time ago. The only thing I expect of themis that they try in life because that’s what I expect of myself.” His gaze was heavy and stern. “What do you expect of yourself?”

I jabbed my fork into the potatoes. “Excellence.”

Christian sat back, looking a little surprised. “And you think that excludes you from a relationship because you can’t do it… excellently?”

It wasn’t that. Not exactly, anyway. I was fine in relationships. Frankly, I was a fucking saint in relationships.

I put up with Tripp and his bullshit for years.

It was the other aspect of Christian’s life I wasn’t totally comfortable with. And, if I was honest with myself, it’s because I didn’t like being bad at things.

I wasn’t a kid person. So what? Not everyone was. I wasn’t a fairytale villain who wanted to lure children to a giant gingerbread house and cook them alive. I just wasn’t good at leveling with kids.

I was too blunt.

Too abrasive.

I wasn’t nurturing or maternal.

Christian needed someone who could fill those sensible shoes. My high heels didn’t fit the mold.

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