11. Cash
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. “God damn 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?”
For a second, I just stare at her. Stuck-up City Girl is actually offering me help?
She’s being thoughtful? Kind, even? Same as she was with Patsy this morning in the kitchen and the other day with Wyatt and Sawyer in the barn?
“There are some picnic blankets I was hoping to find,” I say.
“I’ll poke around.”
I turn my head. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I just wanna see some babies of the human and goat varieties. Go shower, Cash. Now.”
“You sure you got that?” I nod at the juice and the Goldfish.
Rolling her eyes, she steps around me. “Jesus, that smell .”
I hop in an ATV and hit the gas. Ten minutes later, I’m back in the ATV, showered and pulling a fresh shirt over my head.
The barn is a hive of activity when I pull up. My chest swells at the sight of ten tiny three-year-olds crowded around the nearby corral, where Wyatt put the goats and their babies. Parents stand nearby, sipping on glasses of Patsy’s lemonade.
Lemonade that—holy shit—Mollie appears to be pouring for our guests. She scoops ice into glasses and then fills them, handing them out to parents and ranch hands while she chats them up.
“What are you doing?” I ask her.
She glances up at me as she dumps ice into a glass. “You showered. Good. You smell better.”
To be honest, I feel better too. The perpetual grit I have in my eyes from not sleeping feels slightly less sandpapery after a quick rinse.
“What are you doing?” I repeat.
Mollie’s eyebrows snap together. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m bartending.”
“You got booze back there?”
“No drinking and riding allowed.” Her lips curl into a smirk as she pours lemonade into the glass. “Kids are having a ball.” She holds out the glass. Like me, it’s already sweating in the morning heat.
“Did you poison it?” I eye the lemonade.
“Take a sip and find out.”
“Would that be murder or manslaughter?”
Mollie lifts a shoulder, her eyes on mine. “Neither. I cover my tracks.”
“You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.” I take the lemonade, the cold pressing into my hand.
“Nice Brooks & Dunn reference. But no, I most certainly will not miss you.”
I sip my lemonade. Just the right balance of tart and sweet and cold enough to make me feel a shade short of overheating. “You like Brooks & Dunn?”
“I fu—” She glances at the kids nearby. “I freaking love Brooks & Dunn. They were my first concert. My parents took me.”
I search her eyes over the rim of my glass. “Your dad said it was a thrill, dancing with you to ‘Boot Scootin’ Boogie.’ He got y’all first-row tickets, didn’t he?”
That gives her pause. She blinks, swallowing. “My dad told you about that?”
“He was so proud you liked country music as much as he did. Man had tunes on day and night.”
She blinks again, lips twitching into a tiny smile. My pulse skips. I’m not sure why I’m sharing this with Mollie. I still think Garrett deserved better from his only daughter.
Then again, no one deserves to lose a parent.
No one deserves to see their parents go through a divorce. Can’t imagine how much that must’ve sucked for Mollie. My friends whose parents split, their lives were totally upended. For her to go through that so young?—
“I also brought you this.”
I stare at the foil-wrapped item she holds out. “More poison?”
“Ha. No. It’s a fried chicken sandwich. Found it in the fridge.”
My pulse skips again. “How’d you know I was hungry?”
“Gave you the benefit of the doubt and assumed you were hangry back at the house.”
I take the sandwich. “Thank you?”
“Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be in the ground already. Except for your head. And your hands. I’d toss those in the river.”
Laughing, I unwrap the sandwich and take a giant bite. Dang, that’s good. “Exactly how much Yellowstone have you watched? ”
“Enough to know my way around dismemberment.”
“This sounds fun.” Wyatt appears at my elbow, empty lemonade glass in hand. “He hangry again?”
Mollie eyes me as I go to town on my sandwich. “I’m starting to think he’s always hangry.”
“That’s because I don’t have time to eat,” I reply, mouth full.
Wyatt rolls his eyes. “I don’t see you wasting away.”
“I don’t see you helping out with the kids.” I nod at the corral. “Where’s the foal?”
“Up your?—”
“I’ll help.” Mollie loops her arm through Wyatt’s. “I’m terrible with adult animals, clearly, so maybe I’ll have more luck with the baby ones.”
Wyatt grins. Are they gonna be buddy-buddy now? And why does that piss me off so much?
“To be fair, Maria’s been skittish since your daddy passed,” my brother says.
A shadow flickers across Mollie’s face. “Sounds like a lot of us miss him.”
“He was a legend.” Wyatt pats the hand she’s got on his forearm. “You got a good name, Mollie.”
Ignoring the now-familiar twist inside my chest, I crumple the empty foil and shove it in my back pocket. After the shower, the lemonade, and the sandwich, I feel like a new man.
I also feel like punching my brother. But that’s nothing new.
Following Wyatt and Mollie out to the corral, I nearly fall the fuck over when I see Mollie head right for my niece. Mollie crouches beside her, smiling as she shows Ella how to straighten her fingers so the goats can nibble at the carrots in her palm.
Mollie smiles. A bright, happy thing that makes an entirely different sensation bloom in my center .
I will myself to ignore it.
“Great job!” she says, holding up her hand for a high five.
Ella slaps it, giggling like the adorable lunatic she is. “More! Ella need more!”
Sawyer turns from his conversation with Ella’s teacher. “How do we ask?”
“Please!” Ella says.
Mollie laughs, glancing up at my brother. “How can I resist when she asks so nicely?”
“Ella use her manners,” my niece replies. “You loves her.” Then she body-slams Mollie in her approximation of a hug.
Sawyer and I both lunge forward at the same time. “Ella, gentle!”
But Mollie just laughs, wrapping her arms around my niece. “She’s fine. I needed a hug, Ella. Thank you.”
I will not dwell on why Mollie would say that.
I will not keep staring as she and Ella become fast friends.
I also will not stare at Mollie’s breasts, which look like they’re about to spill out of the deep neckline of her dress.
But desire—familiar, achy—grips my heart and squeezes. It’s not sexual desire. Well, not entirely. It’s…deeper than that.
I loved growing up in a big family. Loved being surrounded by people, despite the chaos. Most of all, I loved the feeling of belonging I’d get when the seven of us were together.
I felt safe. Seen. Happy.
Even when I was young, before my parents died, I knew I wanted a family of my own. I always thought I’d raise a bunch of kids on Rivers Ranch, same way I was raised: surrounded by nature, community, and a real sense of home.
But then life happened. And, well, I’m too fucking busy taking care of this family to think about starting my own. Especially now that we’re back to square one in terms of our future. I can barely keep my head above the water as it is. Emotionally. Financially. Physically. Adding a wife and babies to the mix…
Yeah, that ain’t gonna happen.
Most days, I’m okay with that. Too busy to dwell on shit I can’t change. But sometimes, it really fucking hurts.
Mollie looks up, her eyes catching on mine. There’s another catch just inside my breastbone.
I should look away.
I have a million very good reasons why I need to look the fuck away.
But there’s a spark in her eyes I haven’t seen before. Or—wait—I have seen it, only in pictures.
Garrett’s pictures of a five- or six-year-old girl, giddy to be playing cowgirl beside her daddy.
Crouching in the dirt, a three-year-old Velcroed to her side, Mollie looks…lit up, like she does in Garrett’s pictures.
Is it the baby goats? All the toddlers? Wyatt’s shameless flirting?
Or is it something else that’s making her happy?
Shoving those questions aside, I tear my gaze from Mollie’s and glance up at the sky. Still no sign of rain.
That hand is still around my heart, its grip fierce.
Lifting my hat off my head, I smooth back my hair. It’s already damp with sweat again. If this heat doesn’t kill me, Mollie Luck surely will.
I put my hat back on and clear my throat. “All right, y’all, who wants to feed the baby horse?”