28. Christian
CHRISTIAN
T he ranch was alive. Cars and trucks were parked in neat lines along the front pasture. String lights and lanterns marked the path that started at the front gate and looped around the property.
Cassandra had convinced a local company to donate a fleet of golf carts to ferry guests down the freshly grated dirt lane.
Ranch hands were mounted on horses, keeping curious guests from peeking behind the metaphorical curtain.
Cassandra and Ray had worked with his sponsors to have them pony up for the bar and catering. With adequate signage and company representatives on sight to rub elbows with the who’s who of groundbreaking attendees.
The billowing white tent had been donated, thanks to a local rental company that Cassandra promised would be an exclusively recommended vendor when the event space was up and running.
She fucking pulled it off.
I could barely believe it. The ranch looked good . It had been a push to get the place cleaned up and ready, but she had whipped everyone into shape.
Using her newfound friendship with CJ, Cassandra managed to get the ranch hands to work a little overtime and get the barns looking nearly new. Fresh landscaping had been put down and the siding had been power washed and painted.
Even the mayor was here.
That was a surprise. I thought Cassandra hated him.
Which begged the question, where was the woman of the hour?
Spenser Crenshaw, a representative from Lawson International, was poking around outside the tent. He looked harmless enough, but I was certain Cassandra wanted him to stay within the parameters she set for the party.
Giant blueprints and architectural renderings had been printed and displayed, showing off what was to come over the next—well— the next decade.
It would be a long project. That was for damn sure.
But little by little, we were solidifying the future of the Griffith Brothers Ranch.
She did that.
So where was she?
“Mr. Griffith,” a feminine voice said from behind me as I walked away from the tent.
I turned to find a blonde, but it wasn’t my blonde. “Yes, ma’am. Can I help you?”
She smiled from ear to ear as she extended her hand. A massive engagement ring that should have required a forklift glinted on her finger. “Elena Callaway. Allegiant Holding Group. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise, ma’am.”
“We partnered with Lawson International at the last minute to invest in the hotel. We’re excited about the venture.”
“As are we.” I looked around, searching for Cassandra.
“I was hoping to speak with Ms. Parker.” She smiled warmly. “It’s always good to put a face to a name, especially now that I hear she will continue to be the project liaison.”
I nodded. “Yes ma’am. We’re incredibly lucky to have her leading the ranch revitalization projects. She’s irreplaceable.”
Elena smiled knowingly. “Better hold on to her. If she’s everything I’ve seen through long-distance communication, someone might come along and poach her.”
Didn’t I know it.
The band beneath the tent transitioned into an old country tune, and partygoers filled the dance floor.
“Great party, Griffith,” Mayor Getty said as he came up and shook my hand.
Elena excused herself and disappeared into the crowd.
“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. We appreciate you coming out here. Did you have a chance to get a drink and take a look around?”
He stammered. “Just one drink for me. Time to call it a night.” He patted me on the back. “Very good. Gonna be great for the community.”
I watched as he hurried away like someone power walking through a haunted house. It was like he was trying to not seem scared, but inside he was terrified.
I’d have to ask Cass about that.
Speaking of. I needed to find her.
Partitions disguised as a photo backdrop shrouded the office from public view, but I saw a faint light glowing between the panels.
“Pretty sure the guest of honor isn’t supposed to be hiding in the office, answering emails,” I said as I slipped inside and shut the door behind me.
Mickey and Sadie were both seeking respite from the chaos in the quiet building.
Cassandra’s old Hollywood waves swished across her back as she looked over her shoulder. “What? Sorry. I was checking the status of a permit we need for?—”
I knelt down beside her and fished around in my pocket. I wasn’t much of a suit guy, but I had pulled out my Sunday best for the occasion.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing? Why are you on your knee? You’re not doing what I think you’re doing. Because if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, then I’m going to say ‘no,’ and it’s going to be very awkward for the next few days.”
I chuckled as I opened my palm.
“Christian, I can’t—” she froze and looked at my hand. “What’s that?”
I chuckled under my breath. “They—uh—they go on your heels. You know, so it’s easier to walk in dirt and not sink in.”
I held one of the little wooden blocks between my fingers. It wasn’t very wide, but it had a deep notch in the top that fit the spike of her stiletto, and a flat, flared base for more surface area on the ground.
“I stained them so they’d match your shoes and not stand out so much,” I said as I lifted her ankle to rest on my knee and wedged the little piece onto the tip of the heel.
Cassandra sat still as I gently put her foot down and lifted the other one to do the same.
She looked completely dumbfounded. “That’s… the sweetest thing someone’s ever done for me.”
I shrugged it off. “Just something I fiddled with while I helped the girls with their homework. If they work I can make some more. You know, so you have them to match all your shoes.” I took her hand and kissed it. “Maybe someday we’ll have sidewalks around here for you.”
“I can always go to New York when I need my fix,” she said, draping her arms around my neck.
I pecked her lips. “Just as long as you come back to me.”
I closed my eyes as she combed her fingers through my hair. I’d left it down today at the girls’ request. “Feels good,” I murmured listlessly.
“Bree was actually asking me about New York this morning.”
I leaned into her touch. “Yeah?”
“Mhmm. She wants to go. Apparently between me and Becks she’s convinced that New York is the most magical place on earth.”
“You told her about the crime rate?”
She laughed. “No, I told her about Broadway and Times Square and this little hole-in-the-wall place in the Village that has the best pastries.”
“And about the crime rate.”
“I told her about the Met, and what it’s like during Fashion Week, and?—”
“And the crime rate, right ?”
She stopped massaging my scalp. “Has anyone told you that you worry too much?”
I pecked her lips. “Yeah, I pay a therapist to tell me that once a month. What’s your point?”
“I’m not going to tell you to stop worrying,” she said softly. “It’s attractive.”
“Then between the ranch, the building projects, and raising teenagers I’m going to be irresistible these next few years.”
She shut down the computer. “How’s the party going?”
I stole another kiss and took her hand. “It needs its hostess before Ray makes it all about him.”
Cassandra laughed, standing as the black dress she was in cascaded down her body. “While that’s fair, considering he’s at the top of the leaderboard going into the finals tomorrow, we might need to make sure his ego can still fit inside the tent.”
The party was still in full swing. My folks were cutting it up on the dance floor.
Ray had not one, but two women on his arms. He was wearing a button-up emblazoned with his team and sponsor logos, but sleeves were cuffed, showing off the tattoos on his arms that the girls had colored in earlier today.
CJ was posted up on the edge of the tent, having no fun at all as he watched the guests with an eagle eye, making sure no one wandered off.
Becks was seated, chatting up a journalist who was looking at her like she was a fictional hero. Nate stood close by with their baby wrapped up in a swaddle, tucked safely against his chest.
Bree and Gracie were dancing with each other, taking turns leading.
Cassandra lifted her chin, surveying the chaos. All around, chatter about the restaurant, lodge, and community programs floated to the heavens.
I rested my hands on her shoulders. “You did it.”
I felt her ease back into me, resting against my chest. Her fingers brushed mine, and she squeezed. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not sending me packing the first day.”
“It was mostly pity.” I laughed when she swatted my leg. “Fine. That, and your ass.”
Cassandra huffed. “I’m trying to be serious here.”
“Go on.”
She turned her back to the party. “Thank you.”
Instead of responding, I kissed her, letting the party spin around us in a blur.
Somewhere in the mirage, I heard my girls squealing and guests clapping.
Cassandra’s mouth was soft and pliant, deferring to my lead as I fused my lips to hers. Gone was whiskey and mint. She tasted like champagne.
Like happiness.
“Tell me you decided to stay,” I said softly against her mouth. She had already given a tentative yes on the job offer, but hadn’t quit her job with the Carrington Group. But more than that, I wanted her to stay. With me.
Her eyes were misty. “We can talk tonight.”
I bumped my nose against hers. “Do I need to get the girls involved?”
“Absolutely not,” she clipped. “If Gracie does those damn puppy eyes and makes herself cry?—”
Like she knew people were talking about her, Gracie bolted over and rammed into my leg. “Did you ask her?” she whispered in the loudest whisper known to man.
Cassandra pursed her lips to tuck away her amusement.
“She said we’d talk later,” I shout-whispered back.
“Did you tell her she can still have the guest room if she doesn’t wanna share your room?”
Cassandra clapped her hand over her mouth and walked away, laughing.
I pulled Gracie into a hug, wrapping her up in my arms. “She knows, baby.”
“Good, ’cause I want her to stay.”
“Hi, Daddy,” Bree said as she wrapped her arms around my waist and tucked her head under my arm.
“Having fun?”