Page 95 of Cash
“Eucalyptus. I take Epsom salt baths every night. Helps with the soreness.”
He grins. “You’re turning into a bona fide cowgirl, aren’t you? C’mon, then, Annie Oakley. Show me around your ranch. This place is sick.”
“You—wait, you actually want to see the ranch?” I furrow my brow. “I thought we’d, you know, just hang here.”
Palmer arches a brow. “We have plenty of time tohang. C’mon. I drove all the way out here, Mollie. I wanna do some country shit. See some horses, ride some four-wheelers. Go out and have beers at a dive bar.”
My stomach pitches when I think about the possibility of us running into Cash. Or any of the Rivers boys, really, because they’ll definitely tell their older brother about my visitor.
Why does the idea of Cash meeting Palmer—the idea of Cash knowing I invited the guy I hook up with to the ranch—make me feel queasy? Again, my intention in bringing Palmer here isn’t to make Cash jealous or anything. It’s to keep my feelings for that cowboy in check. I figure if I release some pent-up sexual energy, I’ll stop thinking about Cash’s Wrangler butt all the time.
I’ll stop wanting him so much.
I also don’t want to be a total dick to Palmer. He did just drive two hundred miles to see me. And so what if we run into Cash? His opinion of my friends—my hookups—doesn’t matter.
At least that’s what I tell myself when I paste on a smile and say, “Okay. Sure.”
CHAPTER 20
Cash
HELL IS A DANCE FLOOR
Driving past the New House,I hit the brakes when I see an unfamiliar truck parked out front.
Taking in the pristine chrome wheels and king cab, my stomach dips. “Who does the pavement princess belong to?”
In the passenger seat, Ryder shrugs. “No clue. Just seeing it now too. Maybe Mollie has a visitor? Fancy truck. Looks like someone from Dallas.”
“Why did no one tell me we had a visitor? I’m supposed to know these things.”
“Because we were out all day with you, jackass.”
I’m gripped by a sense of unease. The truck is a Denali. Current model, like Mollie’s Range Rover. And like the Rover, this is a six-figure vehicle.
One that’s clearly never seen a day’s work outside. I’d bet my life savings that the guy who owns it either parks it in his deck at work or at his country club in the suburbs.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Mollie does have a boyfriend.
Maybe he’s the kind of douche who spends his money on a truck he absolutely doesn’t need.
Why would he come now, though, long after Mollie left Dallas? She were my girl, I doubt I’d be able to go a singlenight without her in my bed. Nothing could keep me away from her.
Nothing.
What excuse does this asshat have? And why did Mollie buy it? I fucking hate the guy already.
“We should get goin’.” Duke yawns in the back seat. “Band starts soon, and I ain’t got much gas left in the tank.”
It’s Friday night. End of another long, hot week. Clouds rolled in earlier this morning, giving the boys and me a much-needed break from the sun. Still waiting on the rain, though.
The herd kept us busy well past lunch today. I’m beat.
But here I am, driving my brothers and me the fifteen minutes into town for some cold beers and live music.
I tell myself I got a second wind because the weather’s turning and fall is my favorite season on the ranch. It has nothing to do with the fact that Mollie might be out tonight, which means I might get to dance with her again.
Absolutely nothing. I couldn’t care less where she is. Hell, I don’t even have her number. Not like I could text her, ask her if she’s coming. If her boyfriend’s here, she probably wants to hang out with him at the house anyway.