3. Christian
CHRISTIAN
L ibby was peeved as I rode out past my house to the cluster of cabins that had been sitting unused for the better part of a decade.
I couldn’t blame her. I was annoyed too.
I tipped my chin down to peer over my shoulder. Cassandra drove the rental car behind me while Tripp—still shouting into his phone as if a cell tower would magically appear—trudged along beside her, covered in shit.
I didn’t blame her for not wanting to be trapped in a car with the human cow patty, but he seemed like the kind of guy who could afford the incidental charge for fucking up the rental. It sure beat the mile walk out to the cabins. He was red as a cherry and seething in anger.
Tripp.
What kind of fucking name was that? Was it short for something?
Trippworth?
Trippington?
Tripped-over-his-ego?
Libby let out a displeased grunt as I hopped down. I used a manger knot to tie her to the post in front of the cabins for the few minutes it would take me to show Cassandra around inside.
Then I could get back to the never-ending to-do list that seemed to get longer and longer each day.
When I finished here, I’d get Libby squared away and head back to that fucking desk for another hour before I went to the house to oversee the girls doing their homework.
Then it’d be time for showers all around and bedtime before we did it all again tomorrow.
Thank God for aftercare at school, extracurriculars, and my mom being a taxi service.
There just weren’t enough hours in the day.
Cassandra pulled up in front of the cabins and hopped out. I could feel the displeasure radiating off her body.
Before we built the new bunkhouse right after Gracie was born, the ranch hands lived in the cabins.
That had been…
Shit. Gracie was eleven.
How was the new bunkhouse a decade old?
“Home sweet home,” I said as I turned to face Cassandra.
I couldn’t get a good look at what was going on in her head behind those big sunglasses, but her face was passive.
Twenty feet away, Tripp had stopped to shout at someone through his phone, as if they’d hear him yelling halfway around the world.
Lord knows they weren’t hearing him through the call.
Cassandra had popped the trunk and was heaving a suitcase the size of a small bedroom out of the back. She didn’t even teeter on those ice picks she was walking around on.
I cut my eyes to the jackass who didn’t care enough to give her a hand. “He’s not gonna help you?”
She didn’t even give her fiancé a quick glance. “He’s busy.”
“I’ll get it, Cass,” I grunted as I stepped up to help.
Her head snapped so hard I was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. “It’s Cassandra. ”
I chuckled as I unloaded the rest of her five suitcases. “Alright, Princess.”
Her lips twitched in a thin line.
I tipped my chin toward the cabin. “Go on in. Should be unlocked.”
“I can get my bags,” she insisted.
I stepped closer. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to.” I tipped my head toward the door. “Inside. I have shit to do.”
Cassandra relented and strutted toward the cabin. If I was a betting man, I’d say that a cabin with electricity and water was her version of “roughing it.”
But I didn’t say that out loud.
I hung back a second longer and indulged myself in another look at that ass. Cassandra’s fancy white pants were out of place on a cattle ranch, but I wasn’t complaining.
I let myself appreciate the way they made her legs look a mile long. If the shit stain who put a ring on her finger wouldn’t appreciate the way she looked, why shouldn’t I?
I snapped out of it when I smelled Tripp getting closer.
It took Cassandra a few tries of wiggling the doorknob before she got the door open.
“The light switch is on the wall to the right,” I said as I pack-muled her luggage toward the cabin.
She reached inside, feeling around on the wall until she found the switch. Her head of blonde hair had barely slipped inside when I heard the scream.
I dropped her suitcases and shoved my way inside, while Tripp bolted behind the car.
I huffed when I saw what gave Cassandra a conniption. “Goddamn it, Mickey.”
Gracie’s pet was lying on a couch that had seen better days.
He let out a moo, and Cassandra screamed again.
“Why is there a cow in the cabin?!”
“His name is Mickey. He’s real sweet.”
“There’s a cow in my house!”
“Pet cow.”
Slowly, I unloaded my arms and picked up her fallen sunglasses.
Shit.
I froze on one knee as I looked up at her. She had the prettiest eyes—slate gray and sparkling.
Cassandra stammered as she ran a hand through her thick blonde hair. “And why are there—” she blinked in disbelief “—are those pool noodles on his horns?”
“He’s clumsy. It keeps him from breaking shit on the property.”
“Oh my god,” she muttered.
“Out, Mickey,” I barked.
“How did he get in?” she asked as her well-bred facade began to unravel.
I trudged through the dust-covered cabin and poked my head into the kitchen. The back door was open.
Actually, it was lying on the ground outside.
The upside was that it let in a nice breeze, which was necessary considering it was clear Jackson hadn’t been in here to get the place ready.
Dust-covered sheets laid over the kitchen table and chairs.
The refrigerator was silent.
Bird’s nests and cobwebs filled the space between the top of the cabinets and the ceiling.
I scrubbed my palms down my face. I didn’t have time for this shit.
Mom was with the girls. Dad was napping, because fuck him. Now was not the time for character building, “you’re on your own” sentiments.
Bringing in a business consultant to give unwanted opinions on how to expand and shore up our interests wasn’t my decision.
Ergo, not my problem.
Maybe I could dump her on Becks for a couple days.
With that decided, I went to deal with the bovine on my furniture.
“It was supposed to be cleaned up for you,” I said as I swatted Mickey off the couch.
He lumbered off of it and sauntered to the door with more sass than both of my daughters combined.
Cassandra stepped aside to give him a wide berth. Her ass bumped into a decaying bookshelf, and something hissed.
Her scream pierced my eardrums.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” After a second, I spotted the snake curled up in a nook. “Just a rat snake,” I said as I pulled a pair of gloves out of my back pocket. “It’s not venomous.”
Cassandra clapped her hands over her mouth. “You’re going to pick it up?!”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I’m just gonna move it outside so it doesn’t bother you.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re joking.”
I managed to pick the snake up with one hand on the tail and the other mid-body. “He won’t hurt you, and he’ll keep the mice away.”
Her face went hard as stone.
I made a move for the door, but she put out a warning hand to stop me. “Don’t come near me with that thing.”
Spooked by her shrill voice, the snake decided to latch on and try to take a chunk out of my arm.
“Oh my god!” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “It bit you!”
I pinched its head and pried it off of my skin. Little thing hurt like a bitch.
“Kill it!” she shrieked.
I just shook my head, stifling a chuckle. “I’m not gonna kill it. Can’t blame a snake for acting like a snake.”
“That’s it. I’m done. I quit.” And with that, she stomped out the door.
I followed her and released the snake into a bush.
Tires crunched over the smattering of pebbles that made the dirt drive a little less dirt-like.
“Where are you going?!” Cassandra shouted.
Tripp, sitting behind the wheel in shit-covered pants, barely lifted a hand to wave. “Back to the airport. I caught an earlier flight. Gotta work.”
Her face turned beet red. “Tripp!”
“I’ll check in next week,” he called as he rolled up the window.
“ Tripp !” The pitch and rasp of her scream probably tore her vocal cords.
I had a backhoe that could dig a Tripp-sized hole in the blink of an eye, and I was more than tempted to use it.
What a dick.
I sided up to Cassandra as I pulled my gloves off and shoved them back in my pocket. “Did he really just leave you like that?”
Her ring finger twitched, but her face didn’t flinch. I knew that face. A woman on the verge of eruption.
Bree was starting to practice that look, and it scared the shit out of me.
I pointed to the ground. “If it makes you feel any better, he stepped in a fire ant colony before he hopped back in the car. That’s some long-term karma.
They’ll be up his britches and in his drawers before he makes it to the front gate.
” I pulled the radio off my hip, changed the channel, and lifted it to my mouth. “Becks?”
No answer.
I pressed the button again. “Becks, you there?”
Still nothing.
Why was everything my problem?
I looked down at those fuck-me heels she was in. I couldn’t rightly make her walk back in them.
“I’ll come back for your bags,” I said as I untied Libby and led her over.
Cassandra squeaked and stumbled backward.
“This is Liberty. We call her Libby.”
“Let me guess,” Cassandra said, using sarcasm as her first line of defense. “She’s sweet like the cow who should be charged with breaking and entering, and the snake who should get the death penalty for assault.”
Her sass was fun.
I cracked a grin. “Trust me, Libby’s a sweetheart. She doesn’t spook easily.”
Cassandra didn’t look convinced.
I stood behind her and reached in my pocket. “Hold out your hand.”
She tried to take another step back to escape, but bumped into my chest. I picked up her wrist, turned her palm up, and dropped a peppermint into her hand.
“Give Libby some sugar, and she’ll love you unconditionally.”
Cassandra didn’t move. She was stiff as a board, so I did what I had done with the girls when they had to get acquainted with the animals as babies. I cradled the back of her hand in my palm and lifted the peppermint to Libby. The horse didn’t hesitate to go for it.
Cassandra flinched, letting out a petrified shriek as Libby’s mouth touched her fingers.
“You’ve gotta stop screaming,” I murmured into her ear. I put my hand on her hip to keep her steady as Libby nibbled away at the candy, then backed away.
“See? That wasn’t so bad.”
Cassandra spun on me. “You’re fucked in the head if you think I’ll get up on that thing.”
“Take your shoes off.”
“Absolutely not,” she clipped.
“That’s fine,” I said as I positioned Libby so Cassandra could get up using the stirrups. “Keep ’em on then. Up you go.”
Cassandra protested the entire way up. Finally, I got her situated on the saddle.
“Sorry. Tight fit,” I said as I settled on Libby’s back, behind the lip of the saddle. “Riding double sucks.”
What didn’t suck was my view of her hips and thighs. Damn. That ass.
I looked up at the sky and prayed for my dick to calm down.
It had been a while since I’d gotten any action.
Okay, it had been a long while.
The moment Libby took a step, Cassandra flopped forward and nearly fell off.
“Keep your back straight,” I said as I bracketed her between my arms and took the reins.
“You’d better be taking me straight back to the airport on this thing.”
Her walls were crumbling and it tugged at something inside of me. “How about I take you to a spot with cell service and the internet?”
Cassandra was pacing my living room when I carried her bags inside. After putting Libby back in her stall, I drove my truck down the cabin to get her luggage and bring it up to my house.
Her posture was tight as she paused and stared at the wall while listening to whoever was on the other end.
Dirt streaked the white pantsuit she was in. Her hair was slightly mussed and disheveled from running her hands through it.
She pinched the bridge of her nose as she stared at a spot on the rug where Gracie had spilled a cup of juice a few years ago. I had tried and tried, but the stain never came out.
The floorboard creaked under my boot, and Cassandra whipped around.
From the look on her face, it was clear as day that the conversation wasn’t going in her favor.
Her brows were furrowed and her lips were pursed.
She tapped the pointed toe of her high heel on the carpet and returned her eyes to the other side of the room.
Every time her gaze hit me, it was sharp, quick, and decisive. She made fast judgments about who people were and what they would mean to her faster than I could rope a calf.
I emptied my arms and headed to the kitchen while she finished her phone call with clipped, staccato acknowledgements.
“Doesn’t sound too good,” I said when she ended the call with a soft growl of frustration.
“You could say that,” Cassandra said as she kept her back to me.
I checked the time. The girls would be home from dance any minute, and we’d head up to the ranch house for one of the bi-weekly dinners my mom insisted we join her for.
I knew it was her way of giving me a break. I should have refused, but truthfully, it was nice not having to cook twice a week.
“Doubt you’ll get a flight out at this hour. You’ll have a better chance tomorrow.”
Cassandra let out a slow breath, then turned on me.
“I have a job to do,” she said as if she hadn’t been fighting back tears at the cabin.
“I’ll be meeting with Silas tomorrow to discuss the possible avenues he would like me to explore to generate new revenue streams for the ranch.
I’ll need an office with internet and—ideally—cell service. But at the least, a landline.”
I looked around the living room, giving it a quick study. A pile of laundry sat on the couch. Photo frames and a stack of opened bills covered the roll-top desk. Shoes were in a chaotic pile by the door. Unless she wanted to share my office, which was—well— mine, this was it.
“What?” she hedged.
Resigned to the fact that life was just going to keep fucking with me until the day I died, I shrugged. “You’re looking at it.”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Welcome to your new office.”