21. Cassandra
CASSANDRA
“ S o, this is weird.” Becks closed her front door and let out a heavy breath.
I watched warily as she rested her hands on top of her belly. “Are you sure you should be leaving the property without your designated driver?”
She scooped her red hair into a bun and tied it up on top of her head. “You can drive if I go into labor.”
I laughed. “You trust me to drive?”
Becks laughed as she lumbered down the porch steps. “Let me guess. At least six months since you’ve driven a car?”
“Eighteen months,” I said as I followed her to Nate’s truck. “Tripp had a driver, and if I was traveling with a client, I just rode with them and their driver.”
“Ah, the city life,” she said as she heaved herself up into the driver’s seat.
It felt strange opening my own door. Christian always picked at me for trying, but I shook it off and climbed in.
Nathan Griffith’s truck had the same sort of smell that Christian’s did. It was a comforting cocktail of motor oil, hay, and cologne.
“Do you ever miss it?” I asked as she pulled away from the house.
I stared in the side mirror as Christian’s house grew to a faint speck.
It was Saturday, so Bree and Gracie were out of school and running circles around the front yard.
Sadie deemed it fit to sit on the top step of the porch and keep a watchful eye on them from the shade, ready to herd them if necessary.
I had questioned Christian when he said he and his brothers were going to spend their Saturday working on the cabins. Bree and Gracie were just left there? Alone?
With an annoyingly smug look on his face, Christian promised me they were fine.
“What? Do I miss living in Manhattan?” Becks shook her head. “Not in the least. I kind of dread going back to work and flying up there. Missing it was only a problem during my first trimester. I craved hotdogs, but I wanted the ones from the cart outside the studio. Nothing else sounded good.”
I peeled my eyes away from the girls and focused on the drive out of the ranch. “How much longer until you’re due?”
Becks huffed as she adjusted the seatbelt over her belly.
“Any day now. I’m technically due next week, but my OB said I might have to be induced.
We’ll see what happens at my next appointment.
” She looked over and smiled as she checked to make sure the road was clear before turning out of the ranch’s driveway.
“I’m glad you suggested this. It’s been ages since I’ve gone out with a girlfriend.
You know—since that damn ranch is flooded with cowboys.
Momma Griff is great, but she helps with Chris’s girls so much that I don’t want to take up her time getting our nails done, you know? ”
I faked a smile to ease my discomfort. I didn’t know how to go out with friends. I didn’t do that. I worked. I attended events. Pampering was done on my own time when I needed to decompress or do research.
But I wanted to leave the ranch. Getting Becks in on it was the easiest way for Christian to let me leave without an inquisition.
“Why don’t you come up to the house when Claire cooks? Everyone does.”
I artfully avoided those big family dinners, always conjuring some excuse as to why I’d just stay back at Christian’s house and eat a sandwich or whatever leftovers he brought.
I have a headache.
I told my parents I’d call and they’re at that age—I need to make sure they’re okay.
I’m expecting a call from the investment team about the revitalization project.
I’m not used to your early mornings. I’m going to bed early.
I talked to a lot of people today. I just need a quiet night to myself.
“I’m not family,” I said as if it was as simple as that. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Becks laughed. “You’re living with Chris. The line between personal and professional has already been crossed.” I stiffened, and Becks slammed on the brakes. “Wait—” she gasped.
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Don’t go there.”
She threw her head back. “Oh my god! How did I not see it before? I blame the hormones. They’ve made me insane. But oh my god !”
“Rebecca Davis?—”
“Griffith,” she corrected.
“Please, just go to the nail salon.”
“No, no, no,” she said with a laugh as she pulled over into a vacant gas station parking lot and stopped the truck. “Too many busybodies. You won’t tell me a thing. What happened ?”
I drummed my fingers on the center console, debating how much to say.
I didn’t know how to go out with girlfriends. But more than that, I didn’t have girlfriends. It had never seemed important.
I had Tripp. I had my career. I had my clients. I was working and socializing for them all the time.
Why did I need my own life?
But weekends on the ranch were lonely.
Christian spent as much time as he could with Bree and Gracie. They rode horses together. They cleaned the house and did laundry together. Nights were spent in the living room watching movies.
And there I was. The creepy lady hiding in the guest room.
One of them always invited me to join them, but that wasn’t a line I would cross.
Not that I was opposed to taking him up on round two, but sleeping with Christian was different than playing house.
Going out with Becks—even if it was a little awkward—was the reprieve I needed.
“Nothing happened,” I lied with the practiced efficacy of a seasoned red carpet wrangler.
“You do realize that I know how to lie on camera too, right?” Becks rolled her eyes. “Look. I know we aren’t sister wives or anything like that, but we’re not strangers. You can tell me. It has to be lonely being out here.”
“Nothing happened. It’s just been a tense few days. CJ’s not happy about the revitalization project, and Christian’s trying to get everyone on board before things move forward.”
She smirked. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m so out of practice.” I groaned and slumped into the truck seat. “I should’ve known better. Rule number one: never get stuck sitting with a journalist.”
Becks laughed. “And you’re stuck with me for the next few hours. But at least you know I can keep my mouth shut. And unless your situation with Chris is classified as ‘foreign affairs,’ I can’t use it for work.”
I glared at her. “Off the record?”
She zipped her lips. “I won’t say a word.”
“Not even to your husband?”
“I promise.”
I pointed at her. “No spousal privilege. I’m serious.”
Becks breathed heavily and readjusted her posture. “Do you want me to slice my finger open and write an NDA on the dashboard in blood? Just tell me already. It stays between us.”
I sat back and cringed. “Christian and I hooked up.” I peered out of the corner of my eye, waiting for her reaction.
“And?” she pressed.
“And nothing. We slept together once. That’s it.”
Satisfied, she pulled out of the lot and headed toward town. “And do you want to do it again?”
I picked at my nail beds. “Are you really asking for details? He’s your brother-in-law.”
Becks smirked. “He’s not your usual type, and that’s not a bad thing.”
She was right about that.
I shrugged. “My type hasn’t been working for me lately. Or ever. I think a short fling was just what I needed.”
“And what? You’re going to stay here for the next few years to oversee the revitalization project, but you’re not going to touch each other again? What if he starts dating?”
“First of all,” I said as she pulled into a space in front of the nail salon.
“I don’t care if he starts dating. That’s his business, not mine.
” But the pang in my chest told me I was a dirty liar.
“Second, I’m here until the contracts are signed and things are rolling on their own.
I’ll find local contacts to see the plans through. I won’t be here much longer.”
“So you can get back to what? Working for the Carrington Group with your cheater ex-fiancé? Being tied to your phone twenty-four seven? Spending your days off in airport lounges and hotel rooms?”
I hopped out and stepped up onto the sidewalk, breathing in clean, small town air. “I miss the smell of jet fuel and terminal coffee.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Becks said as she locked the truck and hooked her arm around mine. “The girls will miss you.”
The tightness in my chest returned as she yanked open the door and I was hit with the comforting smell of acetone and polish.
But this time, Becks was none the wiser. “Come on. I want my toes pretty for when a million doctors and nurses are watching me push out a baby.”
It was late afternoon by the time Becks and I returned to the ranch. Nail appointments turned into lunch and a stop by a store for some nursery items that Becks couldn’t remember if she had already gotten or not.
I said my goodbyes, made a tentative promise to do an outing next weekend if she hadn’t gone into labor yet, then made the long walk down the dirt path that led from Becks and Nate’s house to Christian’s.
The lights were on, but the house was oddly quiet.
They were probably out for a ride or something.
I loped up the steps, pausing at the top to pull my heels off. I wiggled my freshly painted toes on the weathered wood and slumped against the post.
Tired. I was damn tired. Not after today—though it had been a while since I socialized, and I was a little rusty.
I was just tired. Period.
My mind always felt loud and hurried. If I was being honest, the quiet around the ranch was nice. I understood why Becks felt safe here after a year and a half in a war zone with Nate.
It was probably a nice break from flying all over the world to cover global conflicts.
Instead of immediately heading inside, I pivoted to the porch swing. The breeze was gentle as I used one foot to rock back and forth. The back of the swing pressed against my neck as I draped my head backward and let out a heavy breath.
Maybe Becks had a book I could borrow. Did Christian have wine in the house?
I wanted to stay out here until the skies turned to cotton candy, sipping something full-bodied, and reading something salacious.
The dog popped out of nowhere and darted up onto the porch, plopping down beneath the swing.
“You’re back already?” Christian surprised me when he stepped out the front door.
I sat up quickly. “I thought you were out with the girls.”
A dish towel was draped over his shoulder. He pulled it down and wiped his hands. “They’re up at my mom’s house for the night. She has them sleep over once a month so I can have a night to myself.”
“Oh.” I glanced toward Claire and Silas’s house. “I’ll make myself scarce so I don’t intrude on your night.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” And with that, he left the front door wide open, and disappeared inside.
When I finally left the swing, I found him at the sink, scrubbing plastic containers.
“You’re really living it up on your day off.”
Christian chuckled as he rinsed the last one off and unplugged the drain. “I put off cleaning out the fridge as long as I could. Things were starting to walk around in there.” He glanced down at my bare feet. “Did you have a good time out with Becks?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
He sprayed the sink down, then dried his hands. “Why is that surprising?”
I followed him to the living room and curled up on one end of the couch while he took the other. “We were professional acquaintances, not friends. I never spent time with her outside of work or events.”
Christian stretched his arm across the back of the couch, letting his fingertips play with my hair, but he never closed the space between us. “I have a feeling you have a lot of ‘professional acquaintances, but not friends.’”
“You can stick that judgmental tone up your?—”
He laughed. “I’m not judging you, Cass. Just making an observation. Besides, I’m not one to talk. Not like I have a social life.”
His fingers grazed my scalp, and I melted. Maybe if I sat a little closer, he’d massage my head. I disguised moving six inches closer by readjusting the throw pillow behind my back.
“So, what do you do when you’re kid-free?” I asked as he dug his fingers into my hair and scratched up and down. Oh my god, that was better than an orgasm.
Christian kept scratching my head. “I’ll catch up on housework. Sometimes Nate or CJ will come down and we’ll have beers.”
“That sounds dreadful,” I said, letting my head rest more heavily against his hand as my eyes fluttered closed. “You need to learn how to go out.”
Christian didn’t immediately answer.
I tilted my head backward. “Tell me what you really do.”
“I just told you.”
“I believe you. But I doubt all you do is wash dishes and drink beer.”
His hand moved from my head, squeezing all the way down my neck, working at the knots in my muscles.
I scooted a little closer.
“Sometimes I’ll get out of town for the night.”
I smirked. “Now that, I believe.” I looked back at him again. “Where do you go?”
“Little town east. There’s a bar called The Silver Spur. It’s a good time. I’ll go out there and get a motel room after. Let off a little steam.”
A soft hum escaped my mouth. “I respect not shitting where you sleep.”
“I didn’t say I?—”
“I know what getting a room in another town means. In my previous life, I was the one booking those rooms for people. I even booked a few of my own.”
He was silent.
“Were you planning on leaving the ranch tonight?” I asked.
“No.”
And for some reason, I believed him.