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“Thanks for letting me tag along,” I manage.

He smirks, sliding a pair of gold-rimmed aviators onto his face. “You’re welcome. Now watch how it’s done.”

And Lord, do I watch. Guiding Maria toward the fringesof the herd, I watch Cash round up the cowboys and head toward the action. It may be the weekend, but all the Rivers brothers, save Sawyer, are here—Ella doesn’t have preschool, so he’s on Dad duty—along with ten or so other ranch hands.

Their dedication is impressive.

They’re all on horseback. The way they work is like a dance: Cash always in the lead on his big black horse, everyone working around him in coordinated steps to move the herd toward another pasture.

Dust fills the air, along with the earthy smells of grass, sweat, and manure. The lowing of cows echoes through a nearby canyon.

It’s not long before the heat arrives, but that doesn’t slow the guys down. I watch, body lighting up, as Cash urges his horse into an all-out gallop to chase down a rogue longhorn. He leans forward in the saddle, one hand on the reins, the other on the rope tied to his saddle.

The graceful, athletic way he and the horse move together is hypnotic. Long strides, sweat flying, singularity of purpose. There’s no hesitation. No concern for how they might look or whether they might stumble.

They justdo the damn thing.

They do it very, very well, Cash managing to move the longhorn back toward the herd after a little showdown near the crest of a small hill.

I feel the beat of his horse’s hooves in my chest as Cash thunders my way. He has a big old smile on his face.

“Yeeeeehaw,” he yells.

His joy—his confidence—spreads through the pasture like wildfire, the cowboys returning his shout with yells of their own.

My pulse thrums. This is…fun.

Really fucking fun.

Laughing, I draw a quick breath and let out a yell of my own. “Hotdayum.”

Wyatt, who’s nearby, whistles. “Dang, girl, you got a set of lungs on you, don’t ya?”

Cash draws his horse to a stop a few feet away. He and the horse are both heaving, a cloud of dust billowing around them. “Were you catcalling me?”

“I was congratulating you.”

Wyatt lifts a brow. “Sounded like a catcall to me.”

Cash grins. “You like what you see, then, City Girl.”

“You still haven’t stopped with that?” Wyatt asks.

“He’s about to.” I click my tongue and give Maria a tap with my heels. She starts walking, head bobbing in time to her steps. I feel Cash’s eyes on me, Wyatt’s too, but I try not to think about that as I ride.

And ride.

And keep riding.

Wyatt told me to squeeze the horse with my legs to stay on, so that’s what I do. I roll my hips, flexing my thighs so I move more easily with the horse.

Half an hour in, I feel a twinge in the small of my back. Nothing too bad, but I know I’m going to be sore tonight.

An hour in, I’m sweating bullets, and so is Maria, but I feel more confident in the saddle. I even attempt a couple of turns that take me closer to the herd.

What would Dad think if he saw me? What would he have said if he were here?

“Lookin’ good,” Wyatt says. “You feel all right?”