Page 142 of Dust Storm

“I’m changing into my clothes.”

“You’ll get filthy.”

“We’re just watching Ray. I’m not riding a bull.”

Going to the rodeo had been the last thing on my mind. I had been so caught up with planning and executing the groundbreaking ceremony and running away from Christian that I had nothing to wear.

I made it work like I always did.

Blue jeans, the boots Christian had given me, and a silk button-up paired nicely for the occasion.

“Can’t wait to take this off later,” Christian murmured as he hooked a finger in the neckline of my blouse. Heavy clouds of lust lingered in his eyes.

I mirrored him, trailing my finger around his obnoxiously large belt buckle, then dragging him against me. “Likewise.” Ismoothed my hands up his stomach and chest, savoring the softness.

I loved his body. Those broad shoulders. His thick biceps and thighs. The way I pressed into him when he hugged me like he was trying to make a mold of the feeling and hold on to it for eternity. I loved the way I could tuck in right around his hip and rest in the curve of his belly. He was sturdy and steadfast, but gentle. He handled me with care.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said as he reached over my shoulder.

Gracie darted in and shoved a gift bag into his hand, then dashed away, giggling.

“Presents and compliments,” I mused as I pulled the tissue paper out. “I might stick around.”

I reached in and touched rough, heavy fabric. Curious, I pulled it out.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” I studied the canvas jacket. It was a warm tan color that matched his jacket.

“Actually, I did,” Christian said, taking the jacket and turning it around to show me the embroidered Griffith Brothers Ranch logo. “You’re part of the ranch. The team. The family. You get a jacket.”

I laughed as I stretched my arms out and let him put it on me. “If I had known I would get clothes, you might have convinced me to stay sooner.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said as he smoothed his palms over my shoulders.

It took us nearly three hours for our caravan to drive to Houston. Christian, the girls, and I were in his truck, while CJ, Becks, Nate, and baby Charlie followed in their new SUV. Claire and Silas had driven to the arena earlier in the day.

Christian gave my hand a squeeze as we trekked through the parking lot.

“This is…” I looked around. “Chaos.”

“Best. Day. Ever!” Bree squealed.

“Do you think Uncle Ray will let us near the chute?” Gracie asked.

“Can I get a snack?” Bree asked.

“What concerts are happening again?”

“I wanna go see the?—”

“That’s enough,” I clipped. “You’ll make me dizzy if you keep that up.”

Christian gave me a nudge of approval and a wink.

It wasn’t a big deal.

“How about we go scope everything out and see how much time we have?” he said as he kept a hand on Gracie’s shoulder, but still laced our fingers together.

“Our boots match,” Bree said, beaming as she looked down at our feet and matched her stride to mine. The boots were a gift from Christian from Ray’s line of western wear.

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