12. Mollie
CHAPTER 12
Mollie
HAPPY
It’s the shock of the century.
Well, I imagine it wouldn’t be shocking at all to see ordinary cowboys—ones that aren’t growly grumps—patiently bottle-feed a tiny baby horse.
But it is a shock to see Cash Rivers doing it, and doing it well. Just like the LL Cool J song, it’s really fucking hot.
Like, really fucking hot.
My mouth literally goes dry as I watch Cash patiently feed the foal, his hat tipped back so I can see his face. He’s got one enormous hand on the bottle, the other on the foal’s glossy brown coat.
I need to leave. Now. Turn around and walk out of the barn, because if I don’t, I’m worried I’ll combust. Watching Cash is making me feel things.
Things that are inappropriate and inconvenient and just plain wrong.
“Happy’s mama couldn’t feed her, so we’re going to do it,” Cash says, slowly running that hand up and down the horse’s back as she nurses. “Happy is doing so well, isn’t she? ”
Ella, who took my hand as we walked over from the corral and hasn’t let go since, buries her head in my leg.
“Neigh,” she says softly.
Cash looks up, a smile creasing his face. “That’s right, Ella. That’s the sound horses make. Can y’all do it too?” He glances at her classmates.
Most kids are too shy to say anything. But a few, along with Ella, let out quiet neighs , making my chest swell with laughter.
If that isn’t the cutest thing ever, I don’t know what is.
Also, when was the last time I laughed at twelve o’clock on a Thursday afternoon?
When was the last time I was outside on a Thursday? With other people? I honestly can’t remember.
The sound of the kids neighing startles Happy. She pulls back from the bottle, kicking her hooves. Someone gasps.
Cash doesn’t flinch. He continues to gently run his hand over the horse’s back, murmuring, “It’s all right, Happy. They’re just here to say hello. It’s all right. Can you take the bottle again for me? There we go. That’s it. Great job, Happy. I can already see you growing big and strong.”
“Horse whisperer,” John B says, smiling as he shakes his head.
The veterinarian is not wrong. I just…don’t get it. This show of tenderness is at odds with the rough way Cash practically tossed me up into the saddle the other day.
The rough way he spoke to me. Makes me think he’s trying really hard to be an asshole when I’m around.
Also makes me think he has a softer, gentler side. One that would make him excellent in bed.
Squashing that thought, I wonder instead if Cash is just plain exhausted. Maybe he’s fed up, being saddled with so much responsibility.
And, yeah, maybe he’s a little scared. He just lost his mentor. Lost the ranch he thought he’d inherit. I imagine Cash is the kind of guy to always have a plan, same as he always has an answer for every question and problem that comes up.
What’s his plan now that he’s not going to inherit Lucky Ranch? And the brothers that depend on him, what are they going to do?
Not my problem .
But I feel bad enough for Cash that I want to help him out. He showed his ass the other day, but he did apologize to me this morning.
He did love my dad. As much as it hurts knowing they were closer than Dad and I ever were, that’s not Cash’s fault. It’s mine. And Dad’s. Cash Rivers shouldn’t have to pay for that.
Watching him nurse this sweet little foal, I wonder why he feels like he needs to pay for what happened to him and his brothers. I get that they needed a father figure when they were younger. But now that they’re all grown—I mean, Sawyer has a kid of his own—why is Cash still lighting himself on fire to keep everyone else warm?
Why doesn’t he let anyone give him the help he so clearly needs? No wonder he’s grumpy.
It’s why I offered to bring the snacks for the kids. It’s also why I grabbed Cash that extra sandwich from the fridge. He was so soaked in sweat earlier, it looked like he’d been caught in a rainstorm. I imagine that kind of physical labor makes you hungry, especially when breakfast is at four thirty in the morning.
I turn to Wyatt. We’re just far enough away that Cash can’t hear us if we keep our voices low. That’s what I hope, anyway. “Is Cash always like this? With the horses?”
“He’s like this with every living thing. Except humans. Adult ones, anyway.”
“What’s that about? ”
Wyatt twists his lips to the side. “Your guess is as good as mine, Miss Luck.”
“Mollie.”
“Right.” Wyatt smiles. “Day going okay so far?”
I look at Cash. Look down at Ella. “Honestly? It’s going way better than I anticipated. Life on the ranch isn’t…as isolating as I thought it would be?”
“It’s not always like this, you know.” His eyes twinkle. “Hot cowboys in the vicinity, cute babies everywhere, homemade lemonade available by the gallon to cool you off…”
My turn to smile. “You forget I was stranded on top of a cliff the other day with that guy and only one horse to get us the, like, eight miles home.” I tip my head toward Cash. “I’m well aware today is special.”
“It was more like a mile. But I get your point.”
“It sure as hell felt like eight. More than that.”
Wyatt’s smile fades as he looks at his older brother. “Can I show you around today? Make up for it? I can introduce you to our ranch hands.”
I owe Wheeler a call. Mom, too, and my good friend Jen, who recently shared the news that she’s expecting her first baby with her husband, Abel. Goody also made me promise I’d take a look at the payroll documents she left with me this morning.
Long story short, I really should go back to the house and get shit done.
But the thought of being inside again, alone, with only my laptop for company makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
Yes, it’s hot as hell out here, and it smells like manure.
Yes, I’m not going to be of any help in the horse barn or outside in the pastures. Best-case scenario, I don’t get anyone else hurt. Worst-case scenario, I do get someone hurt, and I hurt myself, too, in the process. What happened the other day is a case in point .
But I still want to stay. And that’s a problem for…God, so many reasons.
“You don’t have anything to make up for,” I say. “I know Cash has a lot on his plate.”
“I’m happy to show you around, Mollie.”
“You sure? I don’t want to be a pain?—”
“This is your ranch now.” He looks me in the eye. “Whether you’re a pain or not, if I were you, I’d want to learn my way around. You’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine, I promise.”
But glancing at Cash, who’s nuzzling Happy’s sweet little nose now that she’s finished her bottle, I’m not at all sure I’ll be okay.
And yet I still find myself saying, “All right. Thanks, Wyatt.”
Wyatt is an excellent tour guide, showing me around first in an ATV and then in a huge Lucky Ranch–branded pickup when we move further away from what everyone around here calls the New House.
I thought he was being flirty with me before, but now I see that he flirts with everyone. He’s that guy—charismatic, witty, with a wickedly handsome smile that wins you over every time. I feel comfortable enough to ask him about a hundred questions, which he patiently answers. I meet a hundred people—from the owners of the local feed store, to wildlife experts hired to keep food chains intact, to the landscapers who maintain Lucky Ranch’s green spaces.
The ranch is one hell of an operation. It started out purely as a place to raise cattle, most of which end up as beef on American dinner tables. The cowboys who live here care for the herd, often accompanying the cows on horseback to move them to new pastures in pursuit of fresh sources of food. Cows eat a lot. Like, a lot a lot, which means they need to move often so pastures don’t get overgrazed. The cowboys also make sure the cows stay healthy, which is a full-time job in and of itself. The horses, too, are a big part of the operation. The ranch owns a stable of them, and Cash is apparently always looking for new horses to replace retiring ones.
Dad got involved in some oil prospecting too. Once he made a big strike, he had the money to turn the ranch into more than just a place for cattle drives. Now it’s a magnet for bird watchers, hunters, and fishermen.
My feet hurt, and my head is spinning. But time flies by. Being surrounded by so many people—so much action—is a refreshing change of pace from working solo or just with one or two other people.
It’s also a really great distraction from thinking about Cash.
Wyatt drops me off back at the New House later that afternoon. It’s only four, but I am beat.
He laughs when I yawn. “You’ll get used to the hours. It’s an early start, but if you can make it past two p.m., you’ll be fine through supper. Drinking lots of water helps.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tour. I had an awesome time, and I really appreciate you being so kind.”
Wyatt lifts his fingers off the steering wheel. “Anytime. Sorry my brother’s being a punk. He’s taking Garrett’s death really hard.”
Scoffing, I look down at my lap. “Yeah, well, he can join the club.”
“We all loved Garrett. But he and Cash had a special bond. I think…” Wyatt shakes his head. “He’s struggling to come to terms with all this. Losing Garrett. The ranch going to you, and now you being here. It’s a big change for him, and if there’s one thing Cash doesn’t handle well, it’s shit not going to plan.”
A familiar ache rises in my throat. “I didn’t plan on this happening either. ”
“You’re doing great, Mollie. Just keep showing up. Cash’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, I’ll take him down a notch. Gladly.”
Laughing, I look at Wyatt. He’s handsome in a rugged way: shaggy blond hair, overgrown scruff, earnest, piercingly blue eyes. So different from Cash’s dark intensity and yet so similar too.
“That a promise?” I ask.
His face creases in a grin. “Promise. See you at supper.”
The inside of the house feels blessedly cool after a day spent in the blazing heat. I strip off my clothes, which are soaked with sweat and caked in dirt, grime, and God knows what else, and take a long, cool shower.
It’s still not time for dinner—or supper, as they call it here—after I get dressed, so I decide to give my friend Jen a quick call.
She answers on the first ring. “Hey, cowgirl!”
Hearing her familiar Carolina drawl, I’m hit by a wave of homesickness. Which makes no sense, because Jen lives on a tiny island off the coast of North Carolina a thousand-some-odd miles from here that I’ve only visited once.
Maybe there’s a certain kind of homesickness for familiar faces—Jen and I went to college together. If that does exist, I have it. Bad.
“Hey, friend.”
Jen picks up right away on the emotion in my voice. “Aw, Mollie. Things not going well on the ranch?”
I’ve filled her in on my situation via text and a few phone calls. Jen has been my rock since Dad passed. We talk and text often, so it’s no surprise she immediately knows something’s wrong.
“It’s going well. And not well at all.”
“Oh boy. Is that cowboy you told me about giving you a hard time?”
No use lying. As embarrassed as I am to admit it, my feelings for Cash have morphed from hatred to strong dislike with a twinge of something else.
Something that’s the opposite of hatred.
And then there’s the fact that I kinda sorta enjoyed my time on the ranch today.
“Life here is different than I thought it would be. Everything is different, including Cash. He was such an asshole when we first met. But this morning, he looked me in the eye and apologized, and then today, I watched him be sweet as pie with his three-year-old niece. So I was nice to him, and now I’m wondering if I’m being smart and building a relationship with my foreman or if I’m being a total chump.”
Jen chuckles. “He’s hot, right?”
“Well, yeah. Even if he didn’t have the whole cowboy thing going on, he’d turn heads.”
“But he does have the whole cowboy thing going on. I can’t say that I know many of them myself?—”
“I imagine there aren’t a lot of cattle on the coast,” I say with a smile.
“But he lives in a different world than you do. Which leads me to believe he’s going to be different from the guys you know back in Dallas. I feel like the guys you’ve dated have been assholes because they’re, well, assholes. But maybe Cash just came off that way. Maybe deep down, he’s a good guy who’s really scared about the changes happening in his life.”
Glancing up at the ceiling fan, my throat tightens all over again. “Maybe.”
“I say give him a chance. If it ends up biting you in the ass, well, at least you got to hang with hot cowboys for a little bit. That’ll make a great story at cocktail parties.”
I laugh, feeling slightly better. “How are you feeling? Ultrasound go okay?”
“It went great. Baby is measuring right on time. And I’m feeling all right. I have good days and bad days. I’m definitely looking forward to the second trimester. Everyone says you feel a lot more like yourself then.”
“I’m so excited for you.”
I can hear the warm happiness in her voice when she says, “Thanks. We’re excited too. Abel says hi, by the way.”
“Tell him I said hi back.” I draw a breath through my nose. “Do you like it? Living in a quiet place? Like, do you miss Wilmington at all?”
When Jen and Abel got together, she moved from the small city of Wilmington, North Carolina, to Bald Head Island, which is about as quiet and small as it gets at five square miles. Crazy to think Lucky Ranch is several times that size. Bald Head is accessible only by ferry, and cars aren’t permitted on the island; the only modes of transportation are boats, golf carts, and bicycles.
“I do miss the city,” Jen replies. “You know I love to shop, and I miss being able to just pop into coffee shops or restaurants. But Wilmington isn’t all that far from Bald Head, so whenever I get the itch, I hop on the ferry and take a day trip. I will say I’m always glad to get back on the ferry to the beach at the end of the day. The island has a way of permeating your bones. Like you crave it.”
“I think you just crave your gorgeous husband.”
“Him too, yes.” She laughs. “I do wonder if I’d feel the same if I didn’t have my own little family of sorts on the island. Maybe that’s what gets into your bones—the people more than anything. I feel connected to the community here in a way I never did in Wilmington. Life didn’t necessarily get bigger or smaller when I moved to a small town. But it did become more vibrant.”
My heart pings faster and faster, the way parking sensors do in a car when you get too close to something. “I like that idea.”
“Something to think about. I imagine life on the ranch is similar? ”
“There are lots of people around. Like, all the time. And everyone knows everybody. I get the sense that they’re all close, but I’m obviously the outsider, so…”
“Do they treat you like an outsider?”
I lift a shoulder, thinking about Patsy’s invitation to The Rattler. “Not always. But I think people don’t know what to do with me.”
“You’re figuring out your place, Mollie. That’s up to you to decide. It’s like you’re feeling your way through the dark right now. You’ve never done any of this before. I say you try it all on and see what feels right.”
Try it all . The advice circles around my brain.
“I like that idea too.”
“Good. And who knows? Maybe you’ll end up having some fun with that hot cowboy while you’re at it.”
“No thank you.”
But my reply is half-hearted at best.