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.
