Page 66 of Dust Storm

“It’s not like it’s a surprise. Things like this happen all the time.”

“No, they don’t, Cass.”

The corner of her mouth trembled. “Maybe not in your world.”

Since it was pretty damn obvious she wasn’t going to let me comfort her, I hunched forward and rested my elbows on my thighs. “What are you gonna do?”

“I want him to hurt as badly as he hurt me.” Malice and cruelly calculated anger hung on every word.

“Come on, Cass.” I pulled my hair out of the bun it had been in all day long. “You know that’s not the mature way to handle things.”

She let out a beautifully wicked laugh. Her lips were crimson like Cruella. If luck was a lady, revenge was a seductress named Cassandra.

“The wonderful thing about being newly single and unattached is that I don’t have to set a good example for anyone. Why be mature, when you can be petty? And since I have plenty of time on my hands, I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with a beautiful form of payback.”

“I think being happy is the best form of revenge. Because that’s something he could never give you or himself.”

Cassandra pushed out of the swing and stood. Her bare feet kicked at one discarded stiletto. “Again with the mystical cowboy wisdom. Does being cryptic ever get old?”

I chuckled. “If moving on doesn’t do it for you, I can dig a trench and bury him in a place where no one will find his body. Do you want him in the east pasture or the west?”

“That’s more like it.”

Cassandra chewed on her nail as she paced the porch.Jesus, she was going to gnaw that thing down to nothing.

“Hey—” I grabbed her hand on the pass that brought her closest to the swing. “That’s a bad habit, you know.”

She tried to jerk away, but I didn’t let her. When I stood up, she tried to pull away again, but careened back toward me when I didn’t let go. I planted my other hand on her hip, trapping her against the porch railing with my arms braced on either side of her.

“Give yourself a chance to feel upset and hurt, Cass.”

She clawed at the wood railing. “You’d better let me go, Griffith.”

“So that’s it, huh? You’d rather chew off your fucking finger while you plot your retaliation rather than taking a goddamn breath?”

“It’s why I get acrylic nails. I don’t have to wait for them to grow back.”

I took a chance and closed my arms around her.

“Why do you care?” she said as she grunted and threw an elbow to get out of my grasp. “The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner you can get your life back.”

“I’m looking out for you.” I pressed my cheek to her temple. “I value what you bring to the table, and I’m trying to keep you from fucking imploding so you can show everyone else what I see in you.”

She thrashed again, but I didn’t budge.

“I’ve got at least a hundred and fifty pounds on you, Princess. Stop it.”

“Christian.” My name was a whispered tremble on her lips.

She didn’t say my name often, but hearing her mutter it in that breathless tone had me picturing us this close in a different situation.

A very different situation.

Cassandra’s knuckles turned white with pressure as she held on to the railing for dear life. Her shoulders were taut. The way she was grinding her teeth to maintain her composure made me think of sandpaper on rust.

“Please go.”

“Cass—”

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