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When it comes to preserving the land and the life Garrett Luck loved so much.

“Forgot to mention,” Sawyer says. “We got that fundraiser at Ella’s school tomorrow night. Gonna need the truck.”

“It’s yours. Just make sure to gas it up on your way back home.”

“Speaking of trucks”—Wyatt takes off his hat and scratches his head—“what about that mishap with the liquid feed? The pickup still stinks.”

“I got Tyler coming to disinfect the upholstery tomorrow at eight.”

The sun slices through my shirt the second I’m out of the barn, searing my skin. It’s gotten hotter every year, the heat increasing in intensity and duration, to the point where summer lasts until the beginning of October.

I’m over it. Same as I’m over the purple princess riding behind me.

“GoodLord,”Mollie says. “This heat is unreal. How is it so much hotter here than it is in Dallas?”

“It’s actually about the same.” I slow my horse so I fall in beside Mollie. “You’re just never outside in Dallas.”

“I play pickleball.” She sniffs.

“Drinking games don’t count.”

She laughs. The high, clear sound sends a jolt through me. “It’s not a drinking game. It’s a legitimate workout.”

“Sure it is. Right up there with shopping and tanning by the pool.”

“Okay then.” Goody trots over to join us. “What’s on the agenda, Cash?”

Light Mollie Luck’s hair on fire so she runs from the ranch screaming.

“See a pasture or two. Take a lap down by the river. Give our honored guest here an understanding of the size and scope of our operation.”

I wait for Mollie to correct me. She’s not a guest. She’s our new owner.

But she doesn’t say a word. My heart skips a beat. Maybe that means she’s not planning on staying. Why come at all, then?

I keep an eye on Mollie as we head toward the first pasture. She actually does all right. I can see traces of the decent form she had as a kid: straight back, rolling hips.

A hawk circles overhead, startling Maria when it swoops low to the ground. Mollie yelps. I veer to the right and grab her reins, giving them a tug.

At the same time, Mollie’s hand darts out and grabs on to my forearm.

“Whoa, girl. Easy. Easy,” I say.

“Trust me, I’d rather die than touch you?—”

“I was talking to the horse.” My lips twitch.

Maria slows her roll.

“Oh.” Mollie’s still holding my arm in a death grip. “Sorry. But I actually don’t want to die, so…”

“You’re not gonna die. Not on my watch.”

She glances at me from underneath the brim of her ridiculous hat. Sunlight slants across her face, her irises crystal clear, the color of whiskey. “So I’m going to die in anaccidentthen? That how you’re going to get rid of me?”

“Nah, Miss Luck. I was gonna let the land do the dirty work.” I nod at the pasture ahead of us. “Like I said, plenty of things out there that’ll get the job done for me.”

She laughs again. It strikes me that maybe I made her do it on purpose this time.