16. Cash
CHAPTER 16
Cash
KEEPING UP
“Feeling full of ourselves because we did some twirls tonight on the dance floor, I see.” Mollie’s eyes shine. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy.”
“I thought we said no more nicknames.”
“Cowboy isn’t a nickname. It’s more of a…vibe.”
“A vibe you like?”
“A vibe I can tolerate, yeah.”
I hang a right, my tires meeting with the dirt road that announces our arrival on Lucky Ranch.
Thank God we’re home, or I might be tempted to do something stupid. Like reach across the cab to grab Mollie’s face and kiss her.
I got no clue what the fuck is wrong with me. How’d I go from wanting this girl gone to wanting to taste her mouth in less than, what, a week?
Why can’t I stop flirting with her?
Why won’t she stop flirting with me?
I pull up in front of the New House, my headlights flashing across the windows. Putting the truck in park, I turn off the ignition.
Mollie goes still. “What are you doing? ”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I grab the handle. “I’m walking you to your door.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I say slowly, “it’s dark and there are animals around and I want to make sure you get inside okay. You forgot to turn on the outside lights.”
She looks so fucking cute when she’s perplexed like this, nose scrunched up and lips pursed. “Is this part of the cowboy vibe?”
“Sure.”
“I’m fine. To walk alone, I mean. It’s only, like, thirty feet.”
I grin, shoving my door open. “Exactly. It’s only thirty feet, so let me walk you in.”
“I’m not inviting you inside!” she calls as she opens her door.
I jog around the hood to hold the door open. “Never said I wanted to come inside.”
“Perv alert.” She takes the hand I hold out to her and hops to the ground, flashing me a whole lot of leg in the process.
Laughing, I say, “I wouldn’t’ve caught that if you didn’t say something. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“I’d prefer not to, thanks.”
If Mollie Luck is as quick and self-assured and shamelessly filthy-minded in bed as she is outside of it?—
Heaven help me.
Discreetly adjusting my jeans, I reply, “You’re trouble.”
“I know.” Offering me a smile, she looks up, and her breath catches. “Oh my God, the stars. They’re insane out here.”
Tilting back my head, I take in the wide-open sky. Because the house lights aren’t on, I can see everything with startling clarity: the half-moon, the bright stars, even the tiny, not-so-bright stars that look like specks of dust.
“Spectacular, isn’t it?” I say.
“They sure as hell don’t look like this in Dallas. There’s so much light pollution and haze, you can barely see the moon most nights.” Mollie crosses her arms. “This almost looks fake it’s so pretty. Does it ever get old? The stars, the night sky?”
“No.” I step closer to her. “It doesn’t.”
Her swallow is audible in the quiet. “I really can see why Dad loved it out here.”
I look at her. Drink in her thoughtful expression, the soft, slender lines of her neck. “Those of us who love it?—”
“Really, truly love it.” Her eyes move to meet mine. “How could you not? If I wasn’t about to fall over, I’d stay out here forever.”
I nod at the front door. “The stars’ll be here tomorrow. And the next night. Let’s get you inside.”
“That mean you want me to stay?” Her eyes glitter in the darkness. “Be honest. I know you were trying to scare me off the other day.”
Smiling, I kick at the gravel. “You’re Garrett’s daughter. If you’re as good of a boss as he was…”
She’s smiling, too, as she turns and heads for the house. I shove my hands in my pockets and follow her, my footsteps sounding a hard, steady beat on the steps up to the door.
Do. Not. Touch her.
But. I. Want to.
When she’s on the top step, she turns around. I draw up short, heart lurching.
“Thanks for listening,” she says. “I don’t usually confide in strangers?—”
“I’m not a stranger.”
Our gazes lock. The space between us tightens, sparking with electricity that works its way into my skin as her eyes slip to my mouth.
Holy fuck, is Mollie going to kiss me ?
“No,” she says. “You’re not.”
Then she goes up on her toes and wraps me in a hug .
I’m so taken aback that I just stand there for a second like an idiot.
I know this kind of hug. Her arms circling my neck, chest and belly pressed against mine.
She likes the contact. The feel of my body touching hers.
She wants more of it.
Need roars inside me, my blood crackling with the desire to give this girl exactly what she’s asking for. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her even closer, burying my face in her neck.
Even after a night spent dancing at The Rattler, she smells real fucking good. Sweet, like girlie shampoo and that sexy perfume of hers.
“Let’s not murder each other, okay?” Her voice is different. Barely above a whisper.
My voice is different, too, when I reply, “I make no promises.”
“You’re difficult, you know that?”
“Wouldn’t be fun if I made things easy.”
She scoffs, her breath ruffling the hair on the nape of my neck. “You’re anything but easy, Cash.”
Honey, you kiss me, and you’ll see just how easy I can be.
All she has to do is ask. Make the move. And I’ll have her on her back with my face between her legs in two seconds flat.
My dick perks up at the thought of her being wet. If I put my hand up her skirt, what would I find? Ridiculous silk panties, probably.
And a hot, tight pussy, swollen from a night of dancing and touching and flirting.
My pulse blares at the same moment Mollie releases me, falling back just enough that our eyes meet again.
She looks at me.
I look back.
I’m acutely aware of the way my heartbeat has migrated to my lips. Hers part, revealing a glimpse of white teeth just inside the pink seam of her mouth.
My hands are on her waist. Hers are on my chest.
I try very hard to remember all the reasons why kissing Mollie Luck is a terrible idea.
I try, and I fail.
But just when I’m about to go in for the kill, she steps back and turns toward the door, offering me a little wave over her shoulder. “Good night, Cash.”
I have the peace of mind to yell after her, “Lock the door.”
“Of course I’m locking the door. I don’t want you getting in.”
Brat.
But apparently, I’m one hundred percent into that now. I’m hard. And wide awake. And supremely annoyed that I’m hard and wide awake at midnight on a Friday.
Running a hand over my face, I wait until I hear the bolt slide home in the lock. Then I climb inside my truck and head home.
Not gonna lie, I wish Mollie were coming home with me.
Mollie is in the kitchen when I arrive at four o’clock sharp the next morning. Smells good, like something’s being sautéed in a shit ton of butter.
I’m technically off on Saturdays and Sundays, but I always end up working anyway, which is why I’m up. Patsy’s off weekends, too, so she’ll stock the fridge on Friday with all kinds of stuff for us to pick on until Monday.
Nice change of pace to have a hot breakfast made by none other than Mollie Luck.
She’s at the range again, stirring that pan. Pieces of bread are lined up in a nearby toaster. I draw up short when I notice she’s wearing riding clothes. Cowboy clothes, more like it. T-shirt, jeans, boots that aren’t sparkly and pink.
She want to work with us today?
That fact shouldn’t put a smile on my face, but it does. Maybe seeing the stars last night made her realize the magic of being out here. And, yeah, I like that she’s taking an interest in the ranch.
I like that she cares.
She’s got her hair in a ponytail. She’s wearing the glasses again.
I fucking love her in glasses.
I resist the impulse to sidle up behind her. Wrap my arms around her and kiss her neck.
My right hand clearly ain’t doing it for me anymore.
I watch Mollie open the cabinet beside the stove and reach for a new bottle of hot sauce. We killed the other one at dinner last night. Texas Pete takes Patsy’s white chicken chili to the next level.
Wordlessly, I cross the kitchen and grab it for her. Today, she smells like sunscreen. So she is planning to work with us.
Falling back on her heels, her arm brushes my side as she smiles up at me. “Thank you.”
“Mornin’. Smells good.” I peel off the plastic and twist off the cap before handing her the bottle. “What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Wyatt invited me to join y’all today. And you’re up early too. Want an omelet?”
“I’d love one.” Turning around, I lean my backside against the countertop and cross my arms so that I’m facing Mollie. She’s got bags underneath her eyes. But her eyes themselves? They’re lit up, same as they were last night. “How’re you feeling?”
“Okay. I don’t know how y’all stay out so late and then get up at the ass crack of dawn.”
I nod at the coffeepot. “Why do you think we make it so strong? Appreciate you makin’ some food for us this morning.”
“I imagine everyone will be more than a little hungover this morning. Carbs and cheese are the answer.”
I get that buzzy feeling in the back of my throat again. Like my heart’s plugged into an electrical socket and its vibrations echo up and down my spinal column.
“Kind of you,” I say.
Mollie flips the pair of omelets sizzling in the skillet. “Don’t call the devil. I’ve never made breakfast for twenty people before, so I really may end up poisoning y’all. Although this time, it won’t be intentional.”
“Look at us, making progress. No more threats of manslaughter.”
She smiles. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, cowboy. How are you feeling? You were working up a sweat on that dance floor.”
Drawing a breath, I have to think about that. When was the last time someone asked about me? How I’m doing?
When was the last time I felt decent after getting less than four hours of sleep?
“I’m…all right, actually. Tired, but not?”
“Me too.” She’s still smiling as she flips the omelets one last time. “I forgot how much I love to dance.”
I grab a pair of plates and hold them out, giving her a wink. “That’s because you’ve never danced with me before.”
“You’re not half bad.” She uses a spatula to slide an omelet onto each plate. “Not as good as I am, granted.”
“Hey. It’s been a minute. What do you want with this?” I hold up a plate. “Salsa? Sour cream?”
She blinks. “Both, please. And Texas Pete.”
“Got it.”
“Should I start on some more?” Mollie glances at the door. “I don’t know when to expect everyone else.”
“Like you said, people will be moving slow this morning. We can eat.” I set us up at the corner of the table, then head for the coffeepot. “You have any yet?”
“Not yet, no.”
“How do you like it?”
She blinks, like her mind went right into the gutter, just like mine. Is she blushing?
Aw, yeah, I like making Mollie blush.
“Black, please.”
Hand on the carafe, I frown. “Really?”
She hesitates. “Actually, can you make it light and sweet?”
“Yes, ma’am, I can. How I like it too.”
We sit and dig in. I love this time of day. The quiet. The hot coffee and cool air. Well, it’s not exactly cool, but it’s cool er than it was last night.
“This is delicious.” I wipe my mouth on my napkin.
Mollie sips her coffee. “So is this. Thank you.”
“Drink up. You’re gonna need that energy if you’re coming out with us today.”
She hesitates again, coffee still in hand. “Is that an invitation?”
“You’re coming whether I invite you or not.”
Her lips twitch. “What gave me away?”
“The fact that you’re not wearing a single sequin. And the Ariats.”
“Just taking notes.” Mollie glances at my own Ariats under the table. I wear them every so often to keep Garrett’s boots from getting too banged up. “I thought I’d ask you to return the favor—I got you dancing last night, so I was hoping you’d get me riding today.”
My turn to blush. Jesus Christ, my brain is back to horny-fifteen-year-old-boy mode.
“I can do that,” I manage, scalding my tongue when I take a big sip of coffee. “So you’re really gonna stay. On the ranch.”
Mollie uses the edge of her fork to cut her omelet. “ Honestly? I don’t know yet. My whole life is back in Dallas. My business partner is there. Mom, my grandparents. I’m hoping Mom’s lawyers figure out a way around that stipulation so I at least have a choice as to whether or not I stay.”
My heart twists.
I nearly drop my mug. Whoa-whoa- whoa . Am I actually…a little bummed Mollie isn’t sure about staying? Since when? I don’t want her to stay. But I guess I also don’t want her to leave?
Lord above.
“You can always leave the ranch to me,” I joke. Only it’s not a joke.
I expect Mollie to roll her eyes. Call me out on being shameless.
Instead, she lifts a shoulder and says, “You’re really fucking good at running it. I have a lot to learn from you.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. “And you want to learn?”
She meets my eyes. “I am my father’s daughter.”
“You are.” I’m smiling like an idiot again.
I’m also gripped by the idea that now would be a good time to share Garrett’s photos with her. He left them to me—supposedly—but really, they belong to Mollie. I wonder why he didn’t send some of them to her. Was he planning to send them to Mollie or Aubrey later on? And when did he put everything in the safety-deposit box? Did he ever go to the bank to look at the photos?
My stomach clenches. I still have so many questions, and I can’t imagine what Mollie would say. I don’t wanna fuck with her head or send her into a tailspin of renewed grief. We’re all barely keeping our heads above water as it is. Would the photographs make her day? Or pull her under?
That’s a risk I’m not willing to take. Not yet.
“Now I wanna know exactly how much he rubbed off on you,” I say .
This time, she does roll her eyes. “Can I ride with y’all or what?”
“You can ride. But you gotta keep up.”
“I can keep up.”
“Prove it. Maybe then I’ll stop calling you City Girl.”
Grinning, she kicks me underneath the table. “You’re the worst.”
I am.
But I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the best morning I’ve had in a long-ass time.