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Patsy’s face lights up. “Oh! Speaking of The Rattler! We’re playing there tomorrow night. Mollie, you have to come. We’re pretty darn awesome, if I do say so myself.”

“You’re playing?” Mollie scrunches her brow. “Are you a guitarist or…”

“Patsy and Sally are in a band called Frisky Whiskey,” I explain. “And they are really, really good.”

Mollie smiles at Patsy. “As if I couldn’t adore you more. How cool! I’ll be there.” She looks at me. “As long as you’re not going.”

Patsy gently elbows me. “Cash hasn’t been to The Rattler in a while.”

“Don’t mean I ain’t itchin’ to go back.” I mean that. Sort of. I don’t miss the hangovers, but I do miss the live music. And the dancing. And the ice-cold beer.

“Hmm.” Mollie taps a finger against her chin. “Maybe I’ll pass, then.”

I hold up my hands. “Then I won’t go.”

Mollie grins. I’m gripped by the urge to grab her face and?—

Hell no. No more fantasies about Mollie’s mouth.

No more fantasies about Mollie, period.

“Then I will,” she says. “I love live music. Thanks for the invite, Patsy.”

Jesus, Mollie issucha brat.

I wish I hated that about her as much as I did three days ago.

CHAPTER 11

Cash

BABY GOATS & BAD DECISIONS

I’m soakedthrough with sweat when I walk through the kitchen door at the New House later that morning.

Usually, I’d change my shirt or grab a quick shower. But I’m running late, thanks to Duke falling flat on his back after attempting a dumbass trick earlier.

He basically tried to ride his horse right into the trailer, the plan being he’d grab the top of the trailer just as the horse was entering it. He’d lift himself off the horse and do some fancy thing where he’d drop to his feet on the ground.

“It’ll make a great reel,” he said.

I looked at him. “What the fuck is a reel?”

Instead of “creating content,” Duke ended up on his back in the dirt, mewling like a baby because he got the wind knocked out of him. Luckily, he’s all right. But the whole episode ate up half an hour I didn’t have.

That trailer getting not one, but two flat tires a mile from the barn ate up another half hour. Now here I am, covered in sweat and dirt and cursing like a sailor because I’m running around, trying to get everything done.

Ella’s class will be arriving at any minute. The bottle needs to be prepared for the foal. Snacks and juice boxes need to betransported to the barn, along with those picnic blankets we have around heresomewhere.

Ordinarily, Sawyer would help me out with this stuff. Patsy too. But Sawyer’s leading the caravan from preschool to the ranch. Patsy is out at the barn, putting the finishing touches on the goody bags she made for the kids.

Whole thing was my idea anyway. Ella comes home every day from school chatting about the animals they’ve learned about. Last week, it was polar bears. The week before, it was butterflies. I figured why not make this week about horses and visit some real ones while we’re at it?

Sawyer reached out to Ella’s teachers, and they were thrilled by the idea. Not exactly novel, considering we’re in small-town Texas. Classes visit ranches all the time. But with the new foal’s arrival, this feels special.

I’m starving and thirsty as hell, but I don’t have time to fix that. I stalk into the pantry and nearly run face-first into City Girl.

She startles, Goldfish tumbling from the open packet she’s got in her hand. “Goddamnit, Cash, you keep doing that!”