18. Cash
CHAPTER 18
Cash
STUCK
What’s that thing British people say? Keep calm and carry on?
I try my best to do exactly that as I head for the kitchen. Steady, even steps.
Steady, even heartbeat.
Only it’s not steady. It sure as hell ain’t even. My pulse pounds through my body like a shock wave, every beat a reminder that Mollie Luck is getting naked in my bathroom right now.
I pour myself a glass of water and down it. Sweat rolls down my neck and back. I startle when I hear a thump .
“Sorry!” Mollie calls. “Just my boots.”
Glancing at the bottle of a?ejo tequila beside the fridge, I wonder if I should take a shot. Or three. It’s almost four o’clock. Close enough to five, right?
It’s wrong to think about what Mollie looks like, taking off her clothes. Totally wrong to imagine her shimmying out of her jeans, the denim falling to the floor along with her panties.
She was just crying in the barn, for fuck’s sake. Poor thing is a mess. I need to make sure she’s okay .
I don’t need to fantasize about grabbing that tequila and opening the bathroom door and?—
No. Nope. Can’t—won’t—go there.
So I chug my water, and I wait for the tight feeling in my skin to dissipate.
Mollie worked hard today. Too hard. I shouldn’t have let her come out to the barn after lunch. But I did, and I feel terrible about not noticing sooner how much she was hurting.
It’s why I brought her here. Sure, I could’ve dropped her off at the New House. Mollie’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself.
What if I want to take care of her, though?
Even seasoned ranch hands like me get sore upon occasion. Never fun. Mollie is really sore, and I know it’s going to take more than a couple Advil to make her feel better.
Was I wrong to run her a bath? Part of me feels like I’m crossing a boundary. An intimate boundary. Normal people don’t invite their bosses into their homes for a soak.
Then again, my relationship with Mollie is anything but normal. How can I be normal around the girl I love to hate?
Thing is, I don’t hate her anymore. I…don’t know how I feel, but I do know I’m not about to leave this girl crying alone in a bathtub.
I could go. I probably should go. Still stuff to do at the horse barn. Have a couple of calls to return that I missed throughout the day.
But my feet don’t move. Instead, I hang my hat on the hook by the door and grab my phone—having Wi-Fi at the cabin means I don’t have to use my walkie-talkie—and call Duke, who I know will be at the New House right now, grabbing a snack.
“I’m on it,” he says when I give him instructions. “Sawyer and Ella stopped by, so I’ll get their help.”
“Give that baby a kiss for me. I’ll see y’all at dinner. ”
“You all right?” Duke pauses. “I saw you leaving with Mollie.”
“I literally had to carry her out of the barn to stop her from working. Her body’s wrecked.”
Duke chuckles. “Something tells me you didn’t mind carrying her one bit.”
“Shut up.”
“She okay?”
“I’m handling it.”
“I bet you are.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Y’all would make a cute couple.”
“Goodbye, Duke.”
“Go easy on her, would you? We like Mollie. She’s got questionable taste in men?—”
“Why? Because she ain’t into you?”
My brother chuckles. “Because she’s into you .”
“Shut up,” I repeat, even as my heart skips a beat. “She’s not into me. We’re just…we work together.”
This time, Duke flat-out laughs. “Your voice sounded funny when you said you had to stop her from working.”
“I wasn’t expecting her to bust her ass like that, is all.”
“Garrett’s daughter? Really? The one who’s been up at four a.m. almost every damn day she’s been here?”
I groan. “She’s not who I thought she was.”
“Aw, yeah. The plot thickens.”
“There is no plot. I’ll have you shoveling shit all day tomorrow if you don’t quit your talking.”
“You’re the one who hasn’t hung up.”
“I’m hanging up!”
“You have condoms at the cabin, right?”
“Fuck off.” I glance down the hall at the bathroom door. Shit, do I have condoms?
It doesn’t matter if I do, because I’m not going to fuck Mollie. Even if my dick does perk right up at the idea .
“Safety first,” Duke singsongs. “Y’all get to it. We got it handled here.”
“Don’t forget to check the front irrigation system.”
“Don’t forget to have fun. Judging by the way y’all were dancing?—”
My thumb trembles as I hit the red button on my screen, ending the call. Tossing the phone on the counter, I let out a breath. Remind myself that my job is to make everyone on the ranch feel safe, Mollie included.
The clock above the sink ticks. I’m not sure I’ve ever been home this early. My end-of-day routine usually consists of me taking a cold shower and trying to stay awake past six o’clock.
I can’t shower with Mollie in the bathroom. And I’m way too keyed up to rest.
I hear her turn off the water. There’s a small splash, probably her climbing into the tub.
Naked.
The words inside my head ram together in a panicked collision. This was a bad idea. What was I thinking? What do her tits look like wet? You are a pervert. She needs comfort, not an orgasm .
But don’t orgasms make you feel better?
I shove the thought from my head. Girl’s hurt. Last thing she needs is an orgasm. Unless I gave it to her gently…
I could be gentle .
I’m opening the refrigerator and diving for a beer before I know what’s happening. I may need some of that tequila, too, depending on how well I can control my thoughts.
Sitting down at the tiny kitchen table, I start answering emails on my phone. Knee bouncing all the while. The beer cools me down, but it doesn’t do jack shit for the inconvenient thoughts that loop through my head.
Sniff .
I look up from the text I’m typing out to a local mechanic. Did I just hear something? The cabin is quiet.
Sniff, sob, sniff.
My pulse stutters, chest clenching. “Mollie?”
A beat.
Then, “You’re still here?” Her voice sounds thick. She’s definitely crying.
I’m out of my chair and at the door in two seconds flat, beer still in hand. “Of course I’m still here. Are you all right?”
“You didn’t have to stay.”
“I wanted to stay. Are you okay?”
Another beat.
“No.” Sob. “Really, I can find my way back to the house if you need to?—”
“I’m not going anywhere. What’s wrong?” I put my other hand on the knob. “Answer me.”
I hear her sigh. “I know this sounds crazy, because I didn’t see Dad much. But I miss him.”
My heart crumples. Leaning my forehead against the door, a moon rises in my throat. “Not crazy. He was your dad. I miss him too. So fucking much, I…can’t even tell you.”
“Being back here—working with y’all—I just—I missed out on so much. If I had known what life was really like here…I mean, I would’ve loved to be out working on the ranch with Dad. I think I’m starting to understand…”
I suck in a breath. “What?”
“Why he never wanted to leave.” She sounds so sad that for a second, my grip tightens on the doorknob. Do I go in there? Comfort her?
I can comfort her from here, best as I can.
“I know you have regrets, Mollie. But seeing you today—” I swallow. “You’re doing the right thing.”
She scoffs, the sound echoing inside the bathroom. “Maybe. But whether it’s right or wrong, I’m too late. ”
“It’s never too late to start over. Take the lessons you learned and try to do better with the people who are still around.” I let go of the doorknob. A wave of grief moves through me, filling my legs with a familiar heaviness. “What else can you do?”
“Not be an asshole, for starters.”
I grin, despite the sting in my eyes. “I’m working on it.”
“I’m talking about me. I was an asshole to my dad. I mean, you were an asshole to me, don’t get me wrong?—”
“Past tense.”
“What?”
“You said I was an asshole. That mean you think I’m not anymore?”
A pause.
Somehow, I know she’s grinning too when she replies, “You’re growing on me.”
There’s a flutter in my stomach.
A stupid, inconvenient fucking flutter that simultaneously brings a smile to my face and brings my grief that much closer to the surface.
“You can cry, too, you know,” Mollie says, reading my mind. “I can’t even see you, so it’ll be like it never happened.”
I wipe away a tear. “I’m fine with crying.”
“But you’re just too busy to do it.”
I chuckle. “Something like that.”
Everything about this is weird. Us having a conversation through a door while Mollie’s naked in my bathtub. Mollie being here at all.
The weirdest part? I feel strangely safe in this moment. Maybe it’s the privacy the door affords us, or maybe it’s because I’m just too damn tired to keep my guard up and my feelings buried. Whatever the reason, I’m not scared to bare my heart.
Warning bells go off inside my head. I’m not like this. I don’t do this.
But here I am, doing it .
Here I am, turning around and sinking to the floor, my back to the door. Sipping my beer, I try to breathe despite the elephant sitting on my chest.
“You still there?” Mollie asks.
“I’m still here.”
“Tell me about your parents.”
“What about them?” I push my ragged thumbnail underneath the damp label on my beer bottle.
“I don’t know. How did they make you, you ?”
I laugh, even as I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “You mean, how’d they raise me to be so damn excellent?”
“Ha.”
Thinking about it, I land on a specific memory. “My parents were always around. They worked nonstop—as you’re seein’, that’s just life on a ranch—but they made sure we tagged along. Even if it meant adding a shit ton of aggravation to their day. I remember this one day, I was throwing a tantrum over God knows what. I was five, maybe six? My mom was pregnant with the twins, and she’d had it with me. So Dad scooped me up and put me in the saddle with him for the day.” I smile. “I was about as sore as you are after that. But I loved every fucking minute of it.”
I can hear the smile in Mollie’s voice when she replies, “I loved it too. That feeling of working together, being a part of something.”
“Exactly.” Exactly . “That’s one of the things Mom and Dad were best at. Giving us a real sense of belonging. Of purpose. Our family was—is—tight. Had no other option, really. We either helped each other out or it all fell apart.”
Mollie sighs. “Having each other’s backs that way sounds nice.”
“You’re really close with your mom.”
“I mean, yeah.” A pause. “But it’s not like the bond you have with your brothers. Being an only child has its perks, but, well…I’ll say it this way: I want more than one kid if I’m lucky enough to have a family of my own.”
My heart leaps. I drain my beer. “You want kids?”
“I do. Being on the ranch is showing me that I really love having people around. My life in Dallas feels pretty damn small in comparison.” She scoffs. “Do you? Want kids?”
Loaded question. I consider not answering. Changing the topic.
But that feels bullshitty and wrong right now. And, yeah, maybe I want to get Mollie’s thoughts on my predicament.
Maybe I want her to play devil’s advocate. Why? I don’t know. But I like the way her mind works.
“I do. Not sure I’ll ever have ’em, though. In some ways, I’ve already got four sons. Plus a daughter.”
“Ah. I get that. You’ve been the man of the house for a while now.”
“Yep.”
Another pause.
“You do know your brothers are grown now, right? Sure, they say and do stupid things sometimes. But who in their twenties doesn’t? They seem to be perfectly capable of holding their own. Wyatt gets shit done. And look at Sawyer. He’s a great dad.”
“A single dad. He’s a good example of why I haven’t started my own family. Don’t have the bandwidth. He needs help.”
“Lucky for him, there’s plenty of people willing to give it. Many hands make light work. Having that many hands also means you can take a break when you need it, because others will be there to pick up the slack.”
She has a point. I’ve left everyone to their own devices this afternoon, and there hasn’t been an issue. Far as I can tell, anyway. No explosions, no panicked requests for help on the walkie-talkie or phone.
Go figure, my brothers are doing just fine without me .
And I’m doing just fine without them.
“It’d be a shame, you know,” Mollie continues, “if you didn’t have a family. Sounds like you got a world-class education in making one. A happy one. A whole one.”
My heart twists at the sadness in her voice. Here I thought this girl had everything. Her parents were divorced, yeah. But they were both alive until recently. She’s got money, an education. Her own company.
She doesn’t have anyone to take care of other than herself.
Family is great, but it’s also a burden.
“I’m jealous of you,” I say. “Your freedom.”
She scoffs again, this one louder, harsher. “I’m jealous of you. Your support system. Your sense of conviction. You know who you are. You’re chasing the right things. You love the right things.”
“You don’t?”
“Honestly?” I hear her let out a breath. “I’m not sure. All I do know…” Her voice trails off.
“What?” I ask softly.
“I wish I had what you do. The chaos is real, sure, but so is the joy.”
I chuckle. “Take some for yourself, then. You’re welcome to it.”
“You mean that?” Her voice is soft now too.
“I mean that, Mollie.”
Scary part is, I really do mean it. She’s welcome to stay. Welcome to take whatever she wants. She’s lonely, and I know how awful loneliness is.
Right now, though, I don’t feel lonely at all.
I like the idea that she doesn’t either.
“Tell me about your mom,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Oh, my mother. I admire her for raising me on her own while building this, like, insanely successful real estate brokerage empire. There’s not a person in Dallas she doesn’t know. She’s got tons of friends, she plays golf, she gambles. True Renaissance woman.”
“She and Wyatt would get along.”
“She’d take Wyatt for a ride. I’m serious. She wins every round of poker she plays.”
“I like her already.”
“I love her. Dearly. But being the only child of divorced parents—I don’t think she meant to do this, but she kinda put me in the middle of her and Dad.”
“How so?”
“She wasn’t shy about sharing her less than stellar opinions of him with me. And it was from a young age too. I clearly remember her calling my dad a dickweed for the first time.”
I chuckle. “Dickweed?”
“She gets an A-plus for curse-word creativity. But I was ten at that point, so?—”
“Not cool. Explains why you’d cut off contact with him. You only had your mom’s side of the story. She was the one raising you.”
“Right. I could see how stressed out she was, trying to juggle being a parent with everything else. She did it on her own, and that’s not fucking easy.”
“Sawyer will always say he’s never worked harder in his life than he has as a single parent.”
“So, yeah, I sympathized with Mom. I trusted her judgment, so I knew there had to be a good reason why she felt the way she did about Dad. She thought he was an asshole, so I thought he was an asshole too. And some of the things he did really were shitty. As I’ve gotten older, though—now that I’m here?—”
“You’re seeing the other side of the story.”
“Exactly.” Her voice gets thick again. “I’m seeing your story. And it’s making me really rethink things. ”
I let my head fall back against the door and look at the ceiling beams that run the length of the hall.
My chest feels full. So full, it aches.
But the feeling is somehow light, too; the elephant on my sternum disappeared somewhere around the time Mollie asked me about my parents.
Why does Mollie have to be so fucking sweet? So open-minded? So quick, so intelligent, so open and honest and real ?
Can’t remember the last time someone asked me about my past.
Can’t remember the last time I wanted to ask about someone else’s.
The hardwood floor bites into my sit bones. Don’t care. I could talk to Mollie like this forever.
“See?” I sit up a little straighter. “You’re doing the right thing, deciding for yourself how you feel about Garrett. He’d be proud. It was one of the things I loved most about him—how unafraid he was to do his own thing, even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else.”
“Only had to make sense to him,” Mollie replies slowly. “There’s a certain kind of integrity in that. I’m taking notes.”
“Of course you are,” I sputter.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Means I like you. More than I should.
“Nothing.” I spear a hand through my hair. I need another beer.
The quiet sound of moving water fills the silence. I’m seized by the image of Mollie sinking deeper into my tub. She’s relaxed, hair in a knot at the top of her head. Her tits are round and perfect, pink nipples breaking the surface of the water. Cheeks and chest flushed the same shade of pink. And her pussy—with her legs spread, it’d be spread too?—
“Hey, Cash?”
I clear my throat for the hundredth time. “Yeah? ”
“The water is getting cold. I think I’m ready to get out. Could I ask a favor, though? My clothes are disgusting. Any chance I could borrow something? Just to wear back to the house? I’ll wash it and give it back to you as soon as I’m done.”
Dear. God .
Jesus Lord and savior, why you gotta test me like this? Mollie, in my shirt? What if she doesn’t wear a bra under it?
What if she doesn’t wear panties? What I’d give to slide a hand up her bare leg. I’d use my fingers to part her. Stroke her, gathering wetness on my fingertip so I could circle her clit. Mollie, being Mollie, wouldn’t be shy about showing her pleasure. She’d moan, hand fisting in my shirt to pull me closer.
“Don’t fuck with me, Cash,” she’d breathe. “Give me more.”
I shove up to standing, willing the image to disappear. “Course. Gimme a minute.”
“Take your time.”
Only the image doesn’t disappear.
The longer it stays, the more I’m not sure I want it to go anywhere. Same way I feel about Mollie.