Page 29 of Dust Storm

I tugged the quilt up, covering the side of my boob that had spilled out of my top.

“I’m leaving in ten,” he hollered across the house.

“My workday starts at nine,” I reminded him.

Christian let out a sharp whistle. “Sadie. Bring ’em.”

The click-click of dog paws on hardwood floors was instantaneous. Sadie—the annoying Aussie wiggle butt—scrambled up the stairs. Muffled thumps echoed all over the second floor as she scrambled from room to room like a fur tornado.

I was fairly sure she had tumbled head over tail down the staircase, then quickly realized the sound was from how fast her paws carried her back down the steps.

The incessant barking was worse than the children.

Earplugs were at the top of my to-do list this morning.I’d get up, beg Becks to let me use her vehicle to go back to civilization, grab a proper latte somewhere in town, make my phone calls and send my emails, and find somewhere to stay that had significantly less wildlife. And that included the children.

The barking grew closer.

And closer.

And closer.

I wrapped the pillow around my head and briefly contemplated smothering myself.

The headache grew. It was half-exhaustion and half-anger.

I hadn’t slept well. It was too quiet here. Too dark outside.

I needed the lights and noise of the city to drown out my thoughts so I could get some sleep.

Children stomped down the stairs and out the door, screaming, “Grandma!”

Finally, the house was quiet.

Paws clattered on the floor in a drumroll. I peeked out of the pillow just in time to see a ball of fur leaping onto the bed.

Sadie barked repeatedly as she attempted to trample me to death.

“Out!” I shouted as I curled into the fetal position to protect my vital organs.

“Leave! Down! Back!”

I tried every command in the book to get her to stand down. I screeched in horror, blocking my face as she lunged for my head over and over again.

Ten minutes later, I was storming out the front door of Christian’s godforsaken house, only to find him—arms crossed and smirking—as he leaned against the door of his truck.

“First of all,” I bellowed, stabbing a finger in his direction. “Fuck you.”

Sadie nipped at my ankles, and I jumped away.

Christian looked so damn pleased with himself as he took me in. My unwashed, day-old curls had been slicked back into a tight bun that accentuated my cheekbones. The linen blouse I usually would have taken the time to steam was mussed. I tucked it into wheat-colored trousers that tied in a bow at my waist and hid the rest of it beneath a white blazer.

With the yapping, I had to rush through my makeup routine, and made do with some concealer for the bags under my eyes, a coat of mascara, and a plum-colored lip.

My phone was in one hand, and my Mary Poppins bag was slung over my shoulder. “Happy?” I shouted over the barking. “Will you call off your canine alarm clock now?”

Christian grinned from ear to ear. “Down.”

I glared at Sadie as she immediately turned into a rug. “Seriously? I said that at least thirty times!”

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