11. Cassandra
CASSANDRA
“ I thought you were working from Chris’s house,” Becks said as she waddled into the warehouse office. She was drenched in sweat.
I looked up from the notebook I was plotting in like a mad woman. “Sometimes,” I said as I shifted over to my laptop and added to the spreadsheet on the screen.
“The internet’s faster over there,” she said.
“Yes, however, there are children. I cannot work in the presence of mayhem.”
Becks looked at the time. “Early dismissal day?”
“Something like that.”
Becks’s smile was easy as she lowered into a chair and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “They’re not that bad. It’s not like they’re toddlers. Bree’s a teenager and Gracie isn’t far behind.”
“Even worse,” I said as my fingers flew over the keys. “I remember being a teenager. I was a hormonal psychopath.” I saved the file and turned back to her. “Why does it look like someone dumped a bucket of water on your head?”
She groaned. “I’m trying to make myself go into labor. I did a five-mile walk around the property.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?” I shuddered. “Granted, I’m not sure what possessed you to get pregnant in the first place.”
Becks snorted. “My husband’s big di?—”
I lifted a hand and silenced her right then and there.
She laughed softly. “Time flies. Chris’s girls were seven and four when I first met them. It’s crazy to think that Nathan and I are older than Chris is, but his kids will be grown soon and we’re just starting.” She looked rather wistful as she laced her hands together on top of her stomach.
“You’ll be exhausted,” I said pragmatically.
“That’s an understatement.” She closed her eyes. “I’m hoping for an epidural just so I can take a nap before the baby’s born. I haven’t slept well in weeks.”
“How’s the water damage situation?” I said, recalling what she had said about a busted pipe flooding their house.
She sighed. “Nathan’s working on it. Hopefully, I’ll be back in my bed before we have another occupant.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry our spare bedroom is out of commission.
You probably would have preferred that over shacking up with Chris and the girls.
But, by the time it’s fixed, we’ll have a newborn. ”
“We’re not shacking up,” I clarified as I searched my phone for an old contact who owed me a favor after I got their brand out of hot water.
“Right,” Becks said dryly. “Because you’re engaged to Tripp.”
“You’ve never been one to hold back,” I noted as I shuffled papers around. My train of thought had been derailed at the mere mention of his name. “Why start now?”
Becks cocked her head, ginger hair spilling down her shoulder. “Are you actually happy with him?”
“Of course.” The lie was bold-faced, but my facade was all I had left. I was crumbling on the inside. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because he’s abysmal to be around.”
“He’s just driven,” I countered, though I didn’t know why I was defending him. He had done nothing but throw me under the bus, then lock me away.
Out of sight, out of mind.
“Can I be mean for a second?” she blurted out.
I raised my eyebrows. “Is anything stopping you?”
“Not really, and the baby hormones overpower my filter.” She looked rather fired up and I was more than a little curious.
“Then by all means…”
“Tripp is the worst. If I could hit him with a dump truck, I would.”
I couldn’t help the unladylike laugh that ripped out of my chest. “I wish you weren’t pregnant. I need someone to get wine drunk with.”
She smirked. “Chris would be a great drinking buddy.”
Oh god no. The fireworks that sizzled between the two of us nearly scorched me when he picked me up from the nail salon. I didn’t know what would happen if I let my guard down around him.
“Tripp is…” I tried to think of some redeeming quality that would help me come to his defense, but I fell short.
“Look,” Becks said. “I get it. I loved the city. I love the grind. But maybe being out here isn’t a bad thing.
When I pulled away from it all, I found Nathan.
But I found myself, too. Are you really happy or are you just acting happy because the sum of your personal and professional life says you’re supposed to be? ”
Was she right? Was I just holding on to him because it was what I was supposed to want?
Instead of admitting that the comment hit a little too close to home, I flipped my hair. “I’m successful. I’ll take that over happiness any day.”
“You work for success. You deserve happiness.”
I pressed my lips together. “Look at you. Already armed with the cliché parent-isms.”
The door swung open and Christian filled the frame. My blood sang at the mere sight of him.
Blue jeans that were pale and faded with age clung to his ass and thighs. They stretched and strained as he strode across the office. His boots thumped heavily against the cement floor.
“Becks,” he said as a no-nonsense greeting.
I could respect that.
“How you feeling?” he asked.
And there he went with the feelings again. Absolutely unnecessary.
“Tired. Everything hurts. I think I broke a rib after being punched from the inside all night long.” Becks huffed. “But I’ll get out of your hair. I’ve got a nap calling my name.”
Christian gave her a sympathetic smile. “Want me to drive you up to the house?”
“Nah.” She eased out of the chair. “Thanks, but I’m trying to get this baby to drop.”
He nodded as he walked behind me and braced his hands on the desk, trapping me between them as he reached for the desktop computer mouse. “Sit tight. I just have to print something off.”
I stiffened as his chest pressed against the back of my head.
Becks pointed between Christian and me and wiggled her eyebrows as she mouthed, “Oh my god!”
I rolled my eyes as the printer spat out a sheet of paper. “Go take your nap.”
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.
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 stood on 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.
I had just slipped out of the shower when the front door opened. Bree and Gracie’s voices filled the house. The dog joined in, raising the volume to an ear-piercing decibel.
I listened from the solitude of the simple guest room. Christian’s deep timbre calmed the chaos.
Muffled voices clouded together as they hung out for a few minutes before he sent them to bed and doled out goodnight kisses.
The bathroom door clicked and locked, and the shower squeaked on.
After failing to focus on a few chapters of a murder mystery I swiped from Christian’s bookshelf, I took a chance and tiptoed out of the bedroom, heading for the porch.
I missed the amenities of big-city living, but maybe Becks was onto something when she talked about taking a break from it all.
I used to be afraid of slowing down. If I slowed, I’d have to confront the things I was running from.
If I sat in peace and quiet, I couldn’t drown out my intuition with hustle and bustle.
Being kicked out of my beloved city and put on a strict social media blackout forced me to sit with myself.
I hated it.
Silently, I closed the guest room door behind me and rounded the corner as the bathroom door opened.
Christian stepped out with a towel wrapped low around his hips and tucked under his belly. Steam clouded around him as droplets of water clung to his arms and chest.
My heart rammed in my ribcage as I took in the bear of a man in front of me.
His hair hung in long, damp strands. His beard glimmered from the shower like it was covered in diamonds. I wasn’t usually attracted to chest hair. Or at least I didn’t think I was. Tripp always waxed his.
But Christian…
He was soft everywhere, but unmistakably strong. His bulk was sexy. Rugged, but still safe. I was drawn to him like a moth to a porch light. I ached to know what it was like to be in his arms. To feel the potent mix of comfort and attraction.
His eyes were soft as he looked at me with an uncanny warmth.
“Hey.” The single syllable was gruff, but tender.
“Hi,” I said on an exhale.
His solid frame shook as he shifted, holding the towel together with one heavy hand. Dark brown hair ran from his navel down to…
I wanted him to drop that towel.
The realization slammed into me, stealing the wind out of my sails.
What the hell was I doing?
“About today?—”
“It’s fine,” I blurted out.
Christian shook his head, then said the sexiest thing I had ever heard. “It’s not fine. I told you I’d be there, and I wasn’t. So, I’m sorry.”
I was so fucked.