Page 50 of Cash

Most days, I’m okay with that. Too busy to dwell on shit I can’t change. But sometimes, it really fucking hurts.

Mollie looks up, her eyes catching on mine. There’s another catch just inside my breastbone.

I should look away.

I have a million very good reasons why I need to look the fuck away.

But there’s a spark in her eyes I haven’t seen before. Or—wait—I have seen it, only in pictures.

Garrett’s pictures of a five- or six-year-old girl, giddy to be playing cowgirl beside her daddy.

Crouching in the dirt, a three-year-old Velcroed to her side, Mollie looks…lit up, like she does in Garrett’s pictures.

Is it the baby goats? All the toddlers? Wyatt’s shameless flirting?

Or is it something else that’s making her happy?

Shoving those questions aside, I tear my gaze from Mollie’s and glance up at the sky. Still no sign of rain.

That hand is still around my heart, its grip fierce.

Lifting my hat off my head, I smooth back my hair. It’s already damp with sweat again. If this heat doesn’t kill me, Mollie Luck surely will.

I put my hat back on and clear my throat. “All right, y’all, who wants to feed the baby horse?”

CHAPTER 12

Mollie

HAPPY

It’sthe 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,reallyfucking 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 mefeelthings.

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 quietneighs, 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?