Page 7 of Dust Storm

Instead, Lillian was sunning herself on a yacht in Spain, and I was heading for bullshit.

Tripp’s face was unbothered. “I know it’s not optimum, but this is best for everyone.”

Great. Now he was using his publicist voice on me.

I stared out the window as grassy plains rolled by. “What about us? How is this the best thing for us? What about our wedding?” My throat grew tight, but I effectively choked it down and put on my game face. “When do I get to come back?”

Tripp flashed a placating smile. He had tuned out of the conversation the moment it started. “Once things cool down, we’ll talk about setting a date. The optics are?—”

“More important than our comfort.”

I knew the saying well. It was Tripp’s party line whenever he put the firm or one of his clients ahead of our relationship.

Shove it down. Fake a smile. Don’t flinch. Don’t let them see you crack.

I wondered why I had a ring in the first place. Was that just optics too?

On many occasions, he told onboarding publicists to get a fake engagement ring to wear. It kept the tabloids from speculating if our PR experts were dating the clients they represented.

I twisted the ring on my finger.

No … it wasn’t fake.

He had proposed to me. We had an engagement party. We had…

No date.

No dress.

No bridesmaids or groomsmen.

We had nothing.

“Game face,” he chided as a farmhouse came into view.

Dust rolled in the distance. I slid my sunglasses on and took in my new prison.

Tripp put the car in park and handed my phone over.

No service. Not a single bar. I had truly been exiled.

Without a word, Tripp hopped out.

Might as well not put off the inevitable.Game face.

My stiletto sunk into the dirt as I eased out of the car, and I shifted my weight to my toes. At least February in Texas was better than February in New York.

A shadow loomed to the right.

Holy shit.With the sun to his back, all I saw was the silhouette.

But damn. What a silhouette.

The horse was a little terrifying. Were all horses that much bigger in person? I’d always imagined horses being more approachable.

That thing was a tank.

The horse shifted, letting rays of sunlight illuminate the man’s face.

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