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Mollie reaches up, her shirt lifting to reveal a tanned slice of stomach and side. That’s when I see the words, embroidered in sequins becauseof course, on the front of her shirt: I AM A LUXURY.

I don’t wanna smile, but I do. Shirt’s ridiculous, but I’mstarting to wonder if that’s the point when it comes to Mollie’s clothes.

“I don’t see the hot sauce,” Mollie says.

Patsy straightens. “We must’ve run out again. There’s a few more bottles on the top shelf there, I think. Here, I’ll get the step stool…”

I open the door. “I got it.”

The women whip around at the sound of my voice.

Mollie’s hand immediately flies to her glasses. “Jesus, Cash.”

“Good mornin’ to you too.”

“Shoulda known you were coming. Always the first up.” Patsy crosses the kitchen to press a kiss to my cheek. “Sleep okay?”

“Not really. You?”

“I did all right.”

I head for the range. Mollie moves out of the way, her hand still on her glasses. She embarrassed about them?

“How many bottles of hot sauce do you want?” I ask.

Mollie clears her throat. She’s barefoot, and I tower over her.

“Just one.”

I grab a bottle of Texas Pete and hold it out to her.

She looks at it. Looks up at me. “Thanks.”

“Want me to open it?”

“I got it.” She takes the bottle.

“Smells good. Whatcha making?”

Mollie peels off the green plastic sleeve that covers the bottle cap. “Egg white omelets. I’d offer you one, but you’re kind of a dick, so no.”

Laughter rumbles in my chest. “I was a dick the other day. I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“Y’all need a minute?” Patsy asks.

“No,” Mollie replies.

I smile at Patsy. “That’d be great, Patsy, thank you.”

“I’ll be in the pantry. Holler if you need me.”

Mollie twists the cap off the Texas Pete. Tries to, anyway.

“You always up this early?” I ask.

She doesn’t look up when she replies, “Sometimes, when I have a lot to do.”