Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Mollie smiles at Patsy. “As if I couldn’t adore you more. How cool! I’ll be there.” She looks at me. “As long as you’re not going.”
Patsy gently elbows me. “Cash hasn’t been to The Rattler in a while.”
“Don’t mean I ain’t itchin’ to go back.” I mean that. Sort of. I don’t miss the hangovers, but I do miss the live music. And the dancing. And the ice-cold beer.
“Hmm.” Mollie taps a finger against her chin. “Maybe I’ll pass, then.”
I hold up my hands. “Then I won’t go.”
Mollie grins. I’m gripped by the urge to grab her face and—
Hell no. No more fantasies about Mollie’s mouth.
No more fantasies about Mollie, period.
“Then I will,” she says. “I love live music. Thanks for the invite, Patsy.”
Jesus, Mollie is such a brat.
I wish I hated that about her as much as I did three days ago.
CHAPTER 11
Cash
BABY GOATS & BAD DECISIONS
I’m soaked through with sweat when I walk through the kitchen door at the New House later that morning.
Usually, I’d change my shirt or grab a quick shower. But I’m running late, thanks to Duke falling flat on his back after attempting a dumbass trick earlier.
He basically tried to ride his horse right into the trailer, the plan being he’d grab the top of the trailer just as the horse was entering it. He’d lift himself off the horse and do some fancy thing where he’d drop to his feet on the ground.
“It’ll make a great reel,” he said.
I looked at him. “What the fuck is a reel?”
Instead of “creating content,” Duke ended up on his back in the dirt, mewling like a baby because he got the wind knocked out of him. Luckily, he’s all right. But the whole episode ate up half an hour I didn’t have.
That trailer getting not one, but two flat tires a mile from the barn ate up another half hour. Now here I am, covered in sweat and dirt and cursing like a sailor because I’m running around, trying to get everything done.
Ella’s class will be arriving at any minute. The bottle needs to be prepared for the foal. Snacks and juice boxes need to be transported to the barn, along with those picnic blankets we have around here somewhere.
Ordinarily, Sawyer would help me out with this stuff. Patsy too. But Sawyer’s leading the caravan from preschool to the ranch. Patsy is out at the barn, putting the finishing touches on the goody bags she made for the kids.
Whole thing was my idea anyway. Ella comes home every day from school chatting about the animals they’ve learned about. Last week, it was polar bears. The week before, it was butterflies. I figured why not make this week about horses and visit some real ones while we’re at it?
Sawyer reached out to Ella’s teachers, and they were thrilled by the idea. Not exactly novel, considering we’re in small-town Texas. Classes visit ranches all the time. But with the new foal’s arrival, this feels special.
I’m starving and thirsty as hell, but I don’t have time to fix that. I stalk into the pantry and nearly run face-first into City Girl.
She startles, Goldfish tumbling from the open packet she’s got in her hand. “Goddamn it, Cash, you keep doing that!”
“Doing what?” I glance at her pink dress and brown boots. The boots have red and pink hearts on them.
Ridiculous, but cute.
Bending down, she picks up the Goldfish. “Barging into rooms and scaring the shit out of people.”
“I’m in a bit of a rush.” Pulling up my shirt, I use it to wipe my face as I point to the juice boxes behind her. “Can I grab those?”
Mollie is staring at me as she straightens.
Specifically, she’s staring at my naked stomach, eyes raking over my skin.
My body pulses. I try to ignore it, but the prickling awareness in my thighs and groin won’t quit.
“You…need a new shirt.” She licks her lips.
I look away, smoothing my shirt back over my belly. It sticks to me like a second skin. “Don’t got time. The juice boxes, please. Kids’ll be here any minute.”
“You’re going to scare those kids off with that stink. You smell like poop. And horses.”
“Dealt with a lot of both this morning. Kids need their snacks.”
“The juice boxes and the Goldfish?” She holds up her packet. “There were, like, seventy packs of these, so I figured it was all right if I stole one.”
“Ella’s obsessed. So are Duke and Ryder. The juice boxes, please.”
Mollie sets down her Goldfish and wipes her hands. “How about you grab a new shirt—or better yet, a shower? I’ll take the snacks over to the barn.”
I put a hand on my hip. “I got it.”
“You’re always saying that. Trust me, you want a new shirt. I’ll meet you at the barn.” She tucks the carton of juice boxes underneath her arm. “Anything else you want me to bring?”