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Maybe she’s not such a brat.

Or maybe she’s got an ulterior motive. Really,whywould she look out for me, if not to trick me into trusting her?

Only my gut tells me otherwise.

My knees wobble. Mollie keeps her hand on my arm, grip firm. I got several inches and a hundred pounds on her, but she’s stronger than she looks.

Who the fuckisthis girl?

And why do I want to suddenly commit unspeakably violent acts against every guy who so much as glances at her?

I gotta get gone. Now. Climb in my truck and peel out of here like the building’s on fire. That’d be the smart thing to do.

But Mollie’s the smart one, isn’t she? And I don’t see her going anywhere.

Curling an arm around her waist, I pull her against me. “Then let’s give ’em a show.”

CHAPTER 15

Mollie

LET GO AND LET GOD

I can’t stop smiling.

Just like I can’t stop dancing. I have no idea how much time has passed, only that I’m covered in sweat and my feet hurt.

“This one isn’t a country song,” Sally says into the mic, “but you can’t not dance to it, so we figured we’d play it for y’all.”

Patsy counts out the beat with her drumsticks, and then Frisky Whiskey bursts into a twangy version of “Wobble.”

People gonuts. I shout. Cash puts his fingers into his mouth and lets out an ear-splitting whistle.

The dance floor is packed now. Who knew so many people lived in such a tiny town?

Who knew they could all wobble like a boss?

I’m downright giddy as I join the front line of dancers beside Cash. His face shines with sweat, his cheeks pink, shirt sticking to his chest and stomach.

When he shakes his ass, bending his legs in time to the beat, I can only stare. Laughter bubbles up inside my chest.

“You laughin’ at my wobble?” he shouts over the music.

Nope, I’m checking out your delicious Wrangler butt like every other person in this bar.“I would never!”

“Good luck keepin’ up.”

“Watch me.”

I let go and let God. I dance my heart out, smiling like an idiot while sneaking glances in Cash’s direction.

He lookssodamn hot in his jeans and backward hat. I should’ve known he was a good dancer by the easy rhythm he finds whenever he’s on horseback. But to see those long legs and that perfect butt in action like this—witnessing him letting loose in a way I never imagined he was capable of?

I’m so turned on I could scream.

My body pulses at the memory of how Cash manhandled me the other day. At the time, I found it offensive. Now I’m wondering if he’d manhandle me that way in bed. He’s got the muscle to toss someone around—that’s for damn sure. But would he have the balls?

I close my eyes and will the thought to evaporate. Sure, I’m having the time of my life dancing with Cash. And the way he told that guy who asked me to dance to fuck off?