8. Cash
CHAPTER 8
Cash
SHIT OUTTA LUCK
“You with the circus?” I ask, looking Mollie up and down as she strides into the horse barn alongside Wyatt. “Even Dolly Parton doesn’t dress like Dolly Parton all the time.”
“Don’t you dare speak ill of Dolly.” Mollie slips her thumbs through the belt loops of her skinny jeans. “And the only clown I see is you.”
Sawyer’s chuckling again, shaking his head as he tightens a saddle on one of the horses in crossties. He’s been here for twenty minutes or so, helping me tack up the horses. “I like the burn.”
“Don’t you have a job to do?” I snap, then turn back to Mollie. “Dolly is a goddamn treasure. I’d never insult her. But she’s not out here riding horses and working cattle in her big fancy getups, is she?”
Mollie’s eyes go a little wide as they move over the horse. “Working cattle? That mean what I think it does?”
I meet Sawyer’s gaze. It’s all I can do not to grin. She’s gonna hate this.
“Means we’re handling the cows. Moving them from pasture to pasture. Takin’ care of sick cattle, finding lost ones, that kind of thing.” Wyatt leans an elbow against the stall. “For the record, Miss Luck, I like the look.”
I don’t. She’s gonna be uncomfortable and hot as hell in her skintight jeans and long-sleeved denim shirt that’s unbuttoned practically to her navel. A lacy purple bra peeks through. It matches her purple boots and the ridiculous feathered band wrapped around her pristine Stetson.
I look away. I honestly can’t tell if Mollie is wearing this shit ironically or if she’s just that ridiculous. That clueless. It’s a hundred fucking degrees out there. She’ll melt in this stuff. Never mind how dirty she’s going to get.
She smiles. “Thank you, Wyatt. And you know, I was just kidding about the Miss Luck thing. Please call me Mollie.”
I drop the mounting block on the ground by her feet. “Time to get on the horse, Mollie.”
“Not you, Cash. You can still call me Miss Luck.”
Rolling my eyes, I shove my hat onto my head. “Let’s get a move on.”
“Where’s Goody?”
“Out here!” the lawyer calls from the corral. Like a true Texan, Goody keeps spare riding gear in the trunk of her pickup. She’d changed and was in the saddle less than ten minutes after lunch wrapped up. “Y’all take your time.”
Mollie dubiously looks up at the brown mare waiting for her. “Please tell me his name is Easy Rider. Or Sweetie. Or Sugar Puff.”
Sawyer holds out his hand, still smiling. “This is Maria. She was your daddy’s horse.”
Mollie goes very still. My chest tightens at the emotion that flickers across her face.
I remind myself that she’s here for the money. Said so herself.
But what would Garrett say if he saw her right now? Can’t help but feel he’d be happy his daughter finally stepped foot on the ranch, even if she is wearing sparkly purple boots for an afternoon ride.
He’d be proud as hell to see her riding Maria.
I think of all the pictures Garrett saved of Mollie on horseback, which makes me feel a stab of guilt. He wouldn’t be happy, knowing I was trying to chase her off. But it’s the right move, isn’t it? He loved the ranch, same as he loved me and my brothers. He wouldn’t want to see our hard work undone.
How they share the same genes, I don’t know.
I half expect Mollie to throw up her hands and quit on us before she even gets in the saddle.
Or maybe that’s just what I hope will happen.
Instead, she’s taking Maria’s velvety nose in her hand and stroking the white star on her head. “Hi, Maria. I’m Mollie. I get the feeling you took good care of my dad, yeah?”
Maria, being the sweetheart she is, nuzzles Mollie’s hand, tucking her head into Mollie’s chest.
“Aw, hey, I like you too. Please don’t throw me off. And if you wouldn’t mind being patient with me, that’d be great. I’m a beginner. Well, I rode when I was younger, but it’s been, like, a million and a half years since I got on a horse, and I’m a little nervous.” Maria whinnies, and Mollie bites her lip. “Okay, a lot nervous.”
Sawyer and I meet eyes again. He arches a brow.
Garrett loved talking to Maria this way. My brothers and I would joke that the horse was our long-lost sister. Mama was so desperate for a girl, she ended up with five boys trying for one.
“Thank God for Patsy,” Garrett would joke. “Sometimes, I think she’s the only thing standing between y’all and the gates of hell. Or the penitentiary.”
Taking a sharp breath through my nose, I turn and stalk toward my horse—a colt I named Kix—and climb into the saddle. My left leg throbs from a run-in with one of our longhorns this morning. Back aches because I’m old and I didn’t sleep great last night.
Glancing at Mollie, I wonder if she’s losing any sleep over her daddy passing. Looks rested enough. Then again, she didn’t see it happen.
She didn’t miss the signs the way I did. Garrett complaining about shooting pains in his arm that week. How he’d kept a hand on his chest that morning, clearly hurting. He blamed it on heartburn, saying he’d overindulged in Patsy’s ribs and jalape?o cornbread the night before.
She wasn’t here to see him collapse inside a working pen, calves streaming around his lifeless body like he was a boulder parting a river.
My shoulders slump beneath the weight of my exhaustion. Glancing behind me, I watch Sawyer and Wyatt help Mollie onto the horse. It takes three attempts and several oh sweet Jesus es to get her into the saddle.
“You got this.” Wyatt slips her feet into the stirrups. “We all gotta start somewhere.”
He gives her a quick lesson in riding. Shows her how to steer the horse, how to get Maria to go, to stop, to pick up pace.
Mollie gasps when Maria shuffles to the side. “And how far away is the nearest hospital?”
“Eh”—Sawyer hands her the reins—“you’ll be fine.”
“That far, then?”
“Well—”
I gather my own reins in my hand. Check that my rifle is secured with the other. “John B will get you right as rain should you need medical attention.”
Mollie scrunches her brow. “Isn’t he a veterinarian?”
“We’re all animals at the end of the day. Let’s go.”
Wyatt gives me a look. Be patient. Go easy on her .
Thing is, I got no patience when it comes to saving my family from ruin .
When it comes to preserving the land and the life Garrett Luck loved so much.
“Forgot to mention,” Sawyer says. “We got that fundraiser at Ella’s school tomorrow night. Gonna need the truck.”
“It’s yours. Just make sure to gas it up on your way back home.”
“Speaking of trucks”—Wyatt takes off his hat and scratches his head—“what about that mishap with the liquid feed? The pickup still stinks.”
“I got Tyler coming to disinfect the upholstery tomorrow at eight.”
The sun slices through my shirt the second I’m out of the barn, searing my skin. It’s gotten hotter every year, the heat increasing in intensity and duration, to the point where summer lasts until the beginning of October.
I’m over it. Same as I’m over the purple princess riding behind me.
“Good Lord ,” Mollie says. “This heat is unreal. How is it so much hotter here than it is in Dallas?”
“It’s actually about the same.” I slow my horse so I fall in beside Mollie. “You’re just never outside in Dallas.”
“I play pickleball.” She sniffs.
“Drinking games don’t count.”
She laughs. The high, clear sound sends a jolt through me. “It’s not a drinking game. It’s a legitimate workout.”
“Sure it is. Right up there with shopping and tanning by the pool.”
“Okay then.” Goody trots over to join us. “What’s on the agenda, Cash?”
Light Mollie Luck’s hair on fire so she runs from the ranch screaming .
“See a pasture or two. Take a lap down by the river. Give our honored guest here an understanding of the size and scope of our operation. ”
I wait for Mollie to correct me. She’s not a guest. She’s our new owner.
But she doesn’t say a word. My heart skips a beat. Maybe that means she’s not planning on staying. Why come at all, then?
I keep an eye on Mollie as we head toward the first pasture. She actually does all right. I can see traces of the decent form she had as a kid: straight back, rolling hips.
A hawk circles overhead, startling Maria when it swoops low to the ground. Mollie yelps. I veer to the right and grab her reins, giving them a tug.
At the same time, Mollie’s hand darts out and grabs on to my forearm.
“Whoa, girl. Easy. Easy,” I say.
“Trust me, I’d rather die than touch you?—”
“I was talking to the horse.” My lips twitch.
Maria slows her roll.
“Oh.” Mollie’s still holding my arm in a death grip. “Sorry. But I actually don’t want to die, so…”
“You’re not gonna die. Not on my watch.”
She glances at me from underneath the brim of her ridiculous hat. Sunlight slants across her face, her irises crystal clear, the color of whiskey. “So I’m going to die in an accident then? That how you’re going to get rid of me?”
“Nah, Miss Luck. I was gonna let the land do the dirty work.” I nod at the pasture ahead of us. “Like I said, plenty of things out there that’ll get the job done for me.”
She laughs again. It strikes me that maybe I made her do it on purpose this time.
“Ah, manslaughter. Isn’t it hilarious?” Mollie squeezes my arm before letting me go. “You’re a funny guy, Cash.”
“Manslaughter is, in fact, quite the opposite of hilarious,” Goody says.
My heart dips at the loss of Mollie’s touch. “Y’all keep up. We got a good ride ahead of us. ”
Same as during lunch, I let Goody do most of the talking. She knows the ins and outs of Lucky Ranch’s operations almost as well as I do. The way she and Garrett worked so closely together over the years, I’d have thought for sure the two of them had a thing going on if Goody wasn’t married to Tallulah Smith, Hartsville’s largest landlord. Tallulah also moonlights as a bartender at The Rattler, which she owns.
Goody talks. I keep one eye on Mollie and the other on the pastures we pass through. She doesn’t look comfortable in the saddle, but she stays in it. Doesn’t complain. I gotta give her credit for that.
The ride doesn’t turn out to be a total waste of time. We run into a pair of heifers that went missing yesterday. I radio in their location—a little island in the creek by the southeast pasture. Duke and John B say they’re on their way with a trailer and medical supplies. One of the heifers was hanging at the back of the feeding pen earlier this week, so Doc wants to take a look at her.
Mollie sits up in her saddle. “Where are the rest of the cows?”
“Long ways away. You gotta move ’em around so they don’t overgraze the pastures. A herd this size, we’re movin’ ’em often. They’re about four miles that way.” I point into the distance.
Mollie’s eyes go wide. “Four miles?”
“That’s nothin’.” I turn my horse and head for the river. “Lucky Ranch is big, but it ain’t nearly as big as some of the famous ranches. Some of the older ones that have been around a while, they’re the size of Rhode Island.”
Goody smiles. “You don’t appreciate just how big Texas is until you’re out here, do you, Mollie?”
“I really had no idea.” Mollie puts a hand on her head. “Wow.”
I point in the other direction. “The river was Garrett’s favorite part of the ranch. You should see it. ”
It also happens to be a hilly ride from here. Figure the longer City Girl’s in the saddle, the higher the chance she’ll be so sore and tired tomorrow, she’ll hate everything.
Me. The ranch. This life.
What if she doesn’t, though? No way I’ll stick around if she decides to stay. Either she’ll fire me or I’ll have to quit, no question. But then what?
Realistically, my hands are tied, whether Mollie stays or not.
I catch her looking at me a couple of times. Maybe because she knows I’m looking at her? But I don’t see ire or annoyance in her eyes when they catch on my face.
Or more often, my body. She checking me out? Or is she watching me ride, trying to pick up some pointers?
I’m sweating bullets by the time we crest the final ridge that rises above the mighty Colorado River. I can smell the water before I see it: earthy petrichor, the smell of rain on land that’s gone too long without it.
Glancing at Mollie, I wonder what she’d do if I pulled off my shirt and went for a swim to cool down. Would she fire me on the spot? Or would she just keep staring?
The river’s quiet rush fills the silence.
I stop a little before the edge of the cliff and dismount. “Safer to walk the horses. There’s a twenty-foot drop at the edge there.”
“Um, okay.” Mollie glances at the ground. Glances at me. “You made getting off your horse look easy, but somehow, I don’t think it is.”
Goody dismounts, too, pulling off her gloves. “You need help, Mollie?”
“I got her.” Sidling up beside Maria, I loosen my grip on my reins but keep them in hand. I hold up my arms. “Come on, then.”
Mollie turns her head to look at me from the corner of her eye. “I keep thinking about manslaughter. ”
The heat presses down on my neck and back as I squint up at her. “I’m not gonna drop you. Even if I did, at worst, you’d break an arm.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t have a choice. Put your hands on my shoulders, and I’ll handle the rest.”
She looks at me for another beat. Then she does as I tell her, placing her palms on the tops of my shoulders. Ignoring the twist of heat in my center, I keep my eyes level with the saddle and circle her waist with my hands. I lift at the same time that she drops, pressing her weight into my torso.
I glance up to make sure she’s okay. Our eyes lock. Another twist of heat. Now that her face is inches from mine, I can see just how pretty she is. There’s a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, constellations of tiny brown dots that are a shade lighter than her eyes. Straight nose, full at the tip. And lips that are expressive and soft-looking.
I hate that I’m noticing all this shit.
I fucking hate that I can’t stop staring.
“Oh!” Mollie gasps, her eyes going wide as she lurches forward all at once. I lock my hands around her waist and manage to stop her fall before she takes us both out. She lands with a small thud on the ground, her hands still on my shoulders as she breathes, “My boot slipped. I’m so sorry.”
I’m out of breath, too, when I say, “Those boots aren’t doing you any favors.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t make them for riding.”
I meet eyes with her again. “You really own a boot company?”
“I really own a boot company, yes.” Her gaze flicks to her hands, and she blinks, dropping them. “My friend and I came up with the idea back in college.”
As someone who owns one business outright—Rivers Ranch Incorporated—and runs another, Lucky Ranch Enterprises Incorporated, I know the kind of elbow grease that requires.
Surely, she has other people do the heavy lifting for her, though?
“What?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Didn’t believe you were actually employed.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “Because you thought I spent my time getting tan and going shopping?”
“And playing pickleball. Don’t forget that.”
Her lips twitch. Am I flirting with Mollie?
Why the fuck am I flirting with Mollie?
“Y’all—oh! Oh, my goodness .”
I turn at the sound of Goody’s voice, just in time to see Maria take off at a gallop, back the way we came.
“You didn’t hold the reins?” I bite out, looking at Mollie.
She throws up her hands. “You didn’t tell me to!”
“Jesus Christ.” I take off running. “Maria! Come here, girl. Maria!”
But because the universe is apparently out to fuck me over, the mare just picks up pace as she sprints further and further away.
“I got Maria.” Goody gets back up on her horse. “Y’all stay here. I’ll be back in a jiff.”
“Goody—”
“Y’all stay, really. Don’t let a little mishap interrupt the tour.”
Before I can protest, Goody digs her heels into her horse’s sides and sets off after Maria.
I’m left stranded at the edge of a cliff with only one horse and the city girl from hell.