Page 78 of Cash

Who knows how much longer I’ll be here?

Who knows when I’ll get to be outside again? The heat is awful, sure. But looking at the negative balance in my business checking account is worse.

I like the fresh air. The sense of purpose I feel when I’m with the cowboys. One thing I’m learning about life on a ranch is that there are always people around, and I think it’s keeping me from getting in my head too much.

Makes me think about how often I’m working alone back home. Am I doing this all wrong? My career? My dreams? My life?

Or am I just suffering from a bad case of grief, mixed with Cash-flavored sexual frustration?

Whatever the case, half an hour later, I’m mucking stalls in the horse barn, alongside Cash and Duke. John B joins us after checking in on Happy.

The heat inside the barn is unreal.

Around two o’clock, I start to fade fast. My back is screaming. My hamstrings feel like rocks in the backs of my legs, and I’m so soaked in sweat, it’s left a gritty, salty residue on my skin. But I don’t want to be the weak link, so I push myself to keep going.

I can collapse into bed right after dinner. Six o’clock bedtime if I eat quickly. Six thirty at the latest.

Cash is busy—no fewer than seven people approach him with questions or problems—but I still catch him watching me from the corner of his eye. I’m nearly delirious with exhaustion, so I could be imagining it. But I think I see a glimmer of admiration in those baby blues.

I may have been born into enormous privilege. But I want to show him that I still work my ass off. Come hell or high water, I’m going to be the last man—woman—standing.

Dad was that guy, even after he made piles of money.

Now I’m going to be that girl.

But man, does this work hurt. Badly. I took the ibuprofen Cash suggested, but I think I’m beyond help at this point.

A whimper escapes my lips as I straighten after helping Cash give Happy her afternoon bottle, a sharp pain slicing through my lower back.

His expression darkens. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?”

“No.” I put my hand on my back, biting back a wince.

I’m glad John B and Duke aren’t here to witness this. They’re out in the corral, tending to some horses that need medical attention.

“Time to call it a day, Mollie.”

I shake my head. I’ll be damned if I disappoint Dad. What would he think of his daughter, the one who can’t make it through a single day on the ranch he loved with all his heart?

My throat closes in. “I’m good.”

“Are you crying?”

Shit, I am crying. The exhaustion, the pain, the wonderfulness of this day—it’s finally getting the better of me.

I won’t let it.

I can’t fall apart now.

I press the back of my wrist to my eyes and blink, hard. “I’m not crying. There’s no crying in cowboying.”

“CuteLeague of Their Ownreference,” Cash says, even as his nostrils flare. “But cowboys do cry, Mollie.”

“Tom Hanks was so good in that movie.”

“Madonna was better.”

My heart dips. Of course he’d say that. Goddamn it, this man isrelentlesstoday.