Page 53 of Dust Storm

I stared at the pages, feeling stupid for getting excited to show him what I had come up with.

I never got giddy about work. Being Lillian Monroe’s publicist was like being a chess coach for a Godzilla. I stoodon the sidelines, whispering what moves to make while she stomped all over the board and terrorized civilians.

It was ninety percent frustration, which made the nine percent that ended in success complete elation.

Then there was the one percent that ended it all.

I didn’t realize how much I missed business consulting. It ignited part of my brain that craved to be used for more than damage control, quippy responses, and official statements online.

Not that I didn’t like doing that. It put my sass and sarcasm to good use. But I liked the big-picture stuff; the long-term projects.

I liked being the architect, not the firefighter.

The radio sitting in the cradle on Christian’s desk chirped. “Cass.”

Was I supposed to answer that? It sounded like Christian, but everyone on the ranch had access to all the channels, so conversations stayed short and business only.

He had given me a quick run-down on the radio system on my second day, but I had never needed to use one.

“Cass. You still in the office?”

I huffed and eased out of the chair as the static-filled message came across again.

What did I answer with? Hello? Cassandra Parker speaking? Yeah, I’m still here waiting for you?

I pressed the button and decided to answer it the way he always did. “Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it back up there by four. I’m hung up on the northeast side working a problem with CJ.”

Something inside me lurched. I almost asked if he was okay.

Then my mind went to the girls. They had gotten out of school early. Were they still at the house by themselves? Were they allowed to be alone that long?

Rule number one of public relations floated through my mind.Don’t give fuel to people holding matches.

The ranch hands already hated me. Why would I make them think I cared?

“We can reschedule the meeting,” I clipped, keeping it vague and professional for the other listening ears on the line.

“I’ll be back tonight,” he said.

The girls…

But before I could bring it up, his voice came over the line again. “Momma’s got the girls up at her house, so you’re on your own for dinner. You good with that?”

Mickey, the long-horned menace squeezed through the door and lumbered into the office.

“Only if I can cook the cow that’s currently taking up residence at my desk.”

A chorus of voices came on the line from different radios. “Get lost, Mickey,” they said together.

Slowly, he backed his bovine ass up and retreated outside.

There was a pause. Was I supposed to say something? For someone who was used to being around the public eye, I didn’t like the spotlight on me. I preferred to lurk in the shadows. Talking to Christian should have been all business, but it didn’t feel like it.

Christian’s voice was softer as it came across the line again. “See you tonight, Cass.”

I gathered my things and piddled around Christian’s house, reheating a container of leftovers I found in the fridge.

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