Page 52 of Dust Storm

She cackled as she wobbled out into the bright afternoon sun.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Christian asked.

“Not even a little bit.”

He had printed his document, but still kept me caged between his arms.

His chest was right there. He smelled like the great outdoors and leather. His softness pressed against me again as he peered over my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and remembered the way it had felt to have him behind me on the horse. All warm and safe. If I was being honest, I daydreamed about what it would feel like for him to hug me.

Tripp wasn’t a hugger. We had done it a few times, but it was always awkward and stiff. He was a “kiss on the cheek when saying hello” kind of guy.

It would feel so good…

What if I just…

…Just for a minute.

“Plans coming along?” he asked, snapping me out of the day dream.

“What? Um—” I cleared my throat. “Yes. I should have a working concept by the end of the day.”

He hummed deep in his throat as he thumbed through my notes. “That’s a lot of numbers. I thought you just did branding and shit.”

“Everything is money,” I insisted. “And you’ll be appreciative that I can operate within a budget.”

He hummed something non-committal.

I slammed the notebook shut. “These are not ready for client eyes yet, but you can tell your father that I’ll have a presentation ready at four if he’d like to hear it.”

“I think you’re forgetting who makes the decisions around here, Princess.”

I looked over my shoulder, peering at one strong arm. “I think you’re forgetting that I don’t work for you. I work for your father.”

“You work for the ranch, ergo you work for me. Trust me, my dad will just tell you to talk to me.”

“Do you take all your employees on midnight horseback rides?” I countered.

He let go of the desk and took a few steps away, giving us both a little breathing room. “It wasn’t midnight.”

“The point still stands.”

I watched as he licked his lips, trying to calm himself—though he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. I had started to learn his tells. From the outside, he was cool and collected, but I could tell Christian was on edge. A powerful energy ran through him. It was a living, breathing danger.

Becks’s comment from my first night here floated through my memory.It makes me wonder how he gets all his stress out.

Suddenly, I was wondering too.

“I’ll see you at four.” Christian grabbed the paper and stormed out. Of course, that just meant he walked out all calm and casual, but there was an unmistakable tension between us.

Four o’clock came and went without a single appearance by Christian. The only visitor to the office was Mickey, who nearly broke a window had it not been for the pool noodle on his horn.

This place was so bizarre.

I reviewed the plan I had compiled one more time, alternating between making small tweaks to the language and checking the clock.

For some reason, not hearing from Tripp for days didn’t eat at me the way Christian being an hour late did.

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