Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I feel Cash shrug. The motion has him pressing his belly flush against my back. My pulse spikes. I ignore it.
“I don’t know.”
“But you said he and Goody worked closely together? Wouldn’t she have urged him to put that in the will?”
“Goody was always at the ranch, yeah. Why do you think she was able to tack up a horse so quickly? She’s ridden that filly so often, it’s practically hers at this point.”
“Ah. Right.”
“But, yeah, I imagine he thought he’d get around to changing the will, and then…who plans to drop dead at fifty-six?”
That’s one thing I do know about Dad. “He was always in such great shape.”
“You have to be if you wanna keep cowboyin’,” Cash replies.
I scoff. “I think my dad loved being a cowboy more than he loved anything else.”
“That’s not true.”
“You don’t know that,” I snap.
Cash yanks on the reins, pulling the horse to a stop. I turn my head a little so I can just glimpse Cash in my peripheral vision.
I furrow my brow. “What?”
“You resent me for knowing him better than you did, don’t you, City Girl?”
I turn away, my eyes welling with tears. I’m more angry than sad, but I cry anytime I’m upset.
Usually, I’ll try to hide it. Keep everyone else comfortable. At the very least, keep me from embarrassing myself. But fuck that. Cash wants brutal honesty, that’s what he’ll get.
“I do, yeah.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. “Maybe that makes me petty, but whatever. Dad was so good to y’all…goddamn, I wish he’d been that good to me.”
Cash is quiet for a beat. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I couldn’t care less about your intentions. Take me back to the house, Cash.”
“Mollie—”
“This conversation is over.”
CHAPTER 10
Cash
TEXAS PETE
I can’t sleep.
Usually, it’s because a wave of grief hits me, and I’m unable to turn off my mind.
Tonight, it’s because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Mollie, even though it’s been three fucking days since I saw her last.
I made her cry. Took it way too far and made the daughter of the man I respected more than anyone else in the world fucking cry.
To be honest, I didn’t think she cared enough about Garrett or the ranch to cry. She never visited us. She and her daddy weren’t close. But that doesn’t mean his death wasn’t a knife through the heart for her.
I would know. I’m embarrassed I assumed losing a parent wouldn’t deeply affect her. I wish he’d been that good to me. Lord, how that must’ve hurt, me throwing in her face proof of how well Garrett cared for my brothers and me. I didn’t do it intentionally, but still. Doesn’t sit right, knowing I reminded her of a past she’d rather forget.
When we got back to the house, Mollie disappeared inside without a word. She didn’t come to supper. I weathered Patsy’s judgmental looks, Wyatt’s not-so-subtle questions, best as I could.
I haven’t seen Mollie since. Patsy mentioned she spoke with Mollie a few times when she emerged from her room for a late breakfast or lunch, and Wyatt told me he ran into her before supper last night. She said she’d been tied up, working on her company, but I have a feeling she’s been avoiding us for other reasons.
Avoiding me in particular, because I crossed every line imaginable and was a total prick to her.
This is exactly what I wanted—to put Mollie on the run. But my victory doesn’t feel nearly as satisfying as I’d hoped.
In fact, it feels pretty fucking awful.
Lying awake in bed, I stare at the ceiling as the drone of the air conditioner outside my window fills the silence.
Like her father, maybe Mollie has regrets too. Things she wishes she’d said or done differently.
Maybe she isn’t as careless or self-centered as I thought. The look in her eyes when she’d turned her head to meet my gaze—the vulnerability I saw there, the flicker of intelligence, interest—
She’s a fucking stunner. Decent on horseback too. Pickleball must actually be a good workout—you gotta have strong legs and a decent amount of stamina to stay in the saddle that long, even with me behind her. We were both sweating, but it just made her prettier. Her skin glowed in the afternoon sun. And the way she moved on the horse with me, hesitant at first but more confident as time went on, makes me think she’d be a good rider if she put her mind to it. That tight little body of hers is surprisingly limber.
I wince when the sheets catch on my dick as I kick them to the bottom of my bed. I’m sweating. The half chub I’ve had all night is suddenly rock hard.
Reaching down, I suck in a breath. I’m already leaking.
Jesus Christ. I need to masturbate while thinking about City Girl like I need a goddamn hole in my head.