Epilogue
CASH
Wear the Hat
It’s the kind of fall day I live for.
Blue skies, lots of sun. A breeze that’s cool but not cold, refreshing in the best way.
Mollie’s arm hangs out the pickup’s passenger-side window. She’s singing along to the Rascal Flatts song playing on the stereo, bopping her head to the beat. Her hair catches in the wind and blows around her face in a coppery-brown halo.
Tucking it behind her ear, she catches me looking at her and grins. “Eyes on the road, cowboy.”
“Easier said than done when you’re riding shotgun.”
“Did I not take care of you already this morning? Twice?”
My body pulses at the memory of Mollie on her back in my bed and then on her knees in the shower.
“What can I say?” I lift my hand off her thigh. “I make the most of my days off.”
Her lips twitch as she scoots across the bench to sit closer. “I could’ve slept in a little later.”
“You were awake. ”
She’d rustled the sheets and sighed at half past six, so I did what any man waking up next to a beautiful woman would do. I kissed her neck and slipped a hand between her legs.
She’d laughed. I rolled on top of her, catching her leg with my arm so I could press her knee to her chest. Then I’d slipped inside her, the room quiet save for Mollie’s moans.
I love how she wakes up wet. Always ready.
Always hungry.
“I was,” she admits with a smile and puts a hand on my knee. “But I could’ve easily gone back to sleep.”
“How about a nap later?”
“I’d love that.”
Her eyes catch on mine. My stomach flips at the clear, liquid gleam in them. She’s happy. Incandescently so.
It’s the kind of happiness that fills my chest to bursting. I never thought I could feel this much, risk this much, and not stumble somehow. Not be let down or devastated.
But here we are, Mollie and me, taking a drive over to Rivers Ranch together after a glorious morning of sex and food and sun, contentment filling me from head to toe.
Here I am, indulging in hope and the promise of rest.
“You know, you’ve come so far, Cash,” Mollie says, reading my thoughts. “Remember how I had to beg you to take a day off? Now you’re taking whole weekends off, and you’re napping .”
“You didn’t have to beg me.”
She rolls her eyes, still smiling. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe I just had to hate you for a little while to light that fire under your ass.”
I laugh. “Lord, did you hate me.”
“Pretty sure the feeling was mutual.”
“You’re too fucking beautiful to hate. Inside and out.”
Her turn to laugh. “Glad you learned your lesson.”
We pull into Rivers Ranch. I don’t have to swerve to avoid any potholes or divots. When Mollie and I signed the papers that officially created Lucky River Ranch, we agreed that our first order of business would be to get all our roads in shape. That way, the crews we’re hiring to help us with overhauling this side of the ranch won’t have any trouble accessing it.
My pulse skips a beat, then another, as we drive across my family’s land. I still have to pinch myself sometimes. It’s happening.
The dreams I’ve had for this place—Mollie and I are making them come true.
I vividly remember driving down this same road after I first met Mollie that day at Goody’s office downtown. The despondence I felt then—it was the lowest of lows. I saw no future for this land or for my family.
Funny how much can change and how quickly.
I park in front of the old hay barn. Mollie wanted to see it after I mentioned it as a possibility for Bellamy Brooks’s future storage facility.
We walk hand in hand to the entrance, the air filled with the smell of recently cut grass. The sun is deliciously warm on my shoulders and back as I open the rickety door for Mollie.
I shamelessly check out her ass as she strolls inside the barn, my dick taking note of just how good she looks in those jeans. Glancing over her shoulder, she catches me ogling her.
She slips a hand in her back pocket and smirks. “You’re an animal.”
“Yep.” I pull the door closed behind me with a thunk. “Turned into one after I met you.”
Mollie goes up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to my mouth after I walk over to her. “I’m not sorry.”
“Neither am I.” I slide my hand into her pocket behind hers. “So? What do you think?”
My girl tips up her chin as she looks around the barn. “It’s a big space. ”
“It’s a bit of a wreck now, but the bones are good. Y’all do need a bigger closet.”
The edges of her eyes crinkle. “We do.”
Bellamy Brooks’s second collection hasn’t launched yet, but the brand’s gone semi-viral on social media, thanks to Mollie and Wheeler’s kick-ass marketing campaign. They’ve fielded inquiries from some really big names in the retail space—one being a well-known Texas department store—so things are looking up.
“I’m proud of you, honey.” I peck her lips.
“Thank you, cowboy.”
I pluck the hat off my head and put it on hers. “Thank you , cowgirl, for sticking with me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“I heard something once.” Mollie reaches up to touch my Stetson. “About what needs to happen when you wear a cowboy’s hat.”
I yank on her jeans, pulling her closer. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Something about…” She taps a finger against her lips as she pretends to think. “Hmm. I think it goes something like, Wear the hat, ride the cowboy .”
My dick throbs. “Funny, I’ve heard the same thing.”
“Here?” She glances up at the barn.
I grin. “Here.”
“We do need to christen this side of the ranch.”
Taking my hand out of her pocket, I reach around to unbutton her jeans and pull down the fly. “Which means you need to take these off.”
She puts a hand on my chest. “But someone could catch us,” she says with mock concern.
“Ride fast and ride hard, then. You know how.”
Then I’m pulling down Mollie’s jeans. She’s giggling, tearing off her shirt. My hat goes flying, but she catches it and puts it back on her head.
Glancing at a nearby bale of hay—the renters we’ve had for the past year sometimes cut their own—and a horse blanket, my skin tightens.
Aw, yeah. This is gonna be fun.
I toss the blanket over the bale. Mollie’s naked, save for my hat, so I grab her and lift her onto the bale too. “On your knees. There you go.”
She pouts. “A repeat of the shower?”
“Give me more credit, honey.” I wrap a hand around her neck and lean down to press a hard kiss to her mouth. “Trust me, you’re gonna like this.”
“I’ll like it better if you were naked.”
My blood jumps as Mollie looks at me from under the brim of my hat. Kneeling on the blanket, she looks fucking gorgeous: proud shoulders, full tits, thighs parted just enough to give me a glimpse of her pink pussy.
I’m shucking off my jeans and shirt before I know what’s happening.
I’m getting on my own knees. Putting my hands on her thighs and guiding them wider. Leaning in, I suck one nipple into my mouth, then the other, Mollie’s hands digging into my hair as she arches into my caress.
“How do I ride you?” She’s panting, breathless. “When we’re like this?”
“Patience, honey. You’ll see.”
I kiss my way down her belly, stopping to nip at each hip bone. I kiss her pubic hair.
Kiss her clit, giving it a quick, short stroke of tongue.
Mollie’s hips jerk forward. “More. That. More of that, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then I’m turning around. I sit on the ground so that my back is against the hay bale. I sit upright and tilt back my head so that Mollie’s pussy hovers above me, right where I want her.
Leaning up, I lick her. A hard, long stroke of her slit that has her yelling my name.
“Someone’s definitely going to hear us,” I manage.
“I don’t care. More .”
I chuckle. “I’ll do my part”—I suck on her clit—“and you do yours. Ride my mustache, honey. Like you mean it.”
And, Lord, does she mean it. I place a hand on her hip and guide her movements against my mouth. She starts slow, little circles of her pelvis, but when I reach for my dick and start to jack myself off, her movements become frenzied, urgent, bigger.
I eat her pussy and I tug on my dick. Mollie’s cries become louder, so loud that I know they’d hear us at my family’s old house here on this side of the ranch. Luckily, our renters moved out last week, but there’s always a chance someone will be nearby.
Not like I care.
“Let them hear you, cowgirl.” I move my hand and thumb her pussy, spreading her wider so that I can nick at her clit with my teeth. “Don’t hold back now.”
I dip my tongue inside her entrance at the same time I roll my thumb over her clit. She shouts my name, her legs shuddering, and I know she’s coming, hard.
I come, too, the orgasm ricocheting through me with the force of a nuclear blast. My hips buck. Cum leaks down my shaft and covers my hand.
“That’s so hot.” Mollie is panting. “You’re so fucking hot, Cash.”
When the rush recedes and Mollie sinks down onto my mouth, spent, I press one last kiss to her pussy. “Only you. You’re the only one I want wearing that hat.”
I can’t see her face, but I know Mollie is smiling when she says, “Yes sir .”
We take our time getting dressed. I don’t miss how Mollie keeps my hat on, refusing to give it back, even when we emerge into the sunshine a little while later.
I’m in the mood for a drive, so we take a long one, looping around this side of the ranch as we pepper each other with questions and ideas.
Lucky River Ranch is gonna be one hell of a destination once we’re done with it.
We only head home—back to the cabin—when Mollie’s stomach starts to growl. It’s suppertime, and I’ve got some pork chops I plan to make for us, along with the spicy ranch waters Mollie’s grown to love.
It’s a heavenly drive. Setting sun, cool air, George Strait on the stereo.
That is, until we pull past the horse barn and I see a knot of people gathered by the corral.
It’s not dark yet, but I still have to squint to see who it is.
My stomach seizes as the scene takes shape before me. Wyatt is standing with his hands held up, his hat tipped back on his head. John B is aiming a rifle—Wyatt’s Beretta, from the looks of it—at his chest.
There’s shouting. A scream. Sally is at John B’s side, her chest rising and falling.
“What the fuck?” I jam on the brakes.
Mollie’s eyes go wide. “Careful, Cash.”
“Stay here. I mean it, Mollie.”
She looks at me, swallowing. Then she nods. “Holler if you need me.”
I leave the truck running and hop out the door, stalking across the grass.
“I swear to God, John, it’s not what you think,” Wyatt says.
John B leans his cheek against the rifle. “You’re lying, Wyatt. ”
“Dad, please, stop. This is ridiculous. Put the gun down.” Sally’s words are thick with emotion. “He’s right?—”
“What’s going on here?” I ask.
Without looking away from Wyatt, John B replies, “This son of a bitch did my daughter dirty—that’s what.”
I stare at my brother. “Wyatt?—”
“I can explain.” His voice has a desperate edge to it.
Shit. That tells me all I need to know.
Shit, shit, shit .
Thank you so much for visiting Lucky River Ranch!