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He stuffed the check back in the envelope, folded it in half, and shoved it in his back pocket. “Okay, I took it.”

“One million times that?” Misty asked, and Link got himself moving then.

“Hey,” he said, drawing her attention away from his uncle. “I thought I heard your voice.” He glanced over to Janie. “Hey, Janie.”

“Link.” A fast smile catapulted across her mouth before disappearing again.

He kissed Misty in a peck on the lips. “What are you doin’ here?” He shot a look to Uncle Ward, who turned back to the shelving unit he’d been inventorying.

“Trying to pay rent,” Misty said crossly. “Your uncle won’t take it.”

“I took it,” Uncle Ward said.

“You won’t cash it,” Janie said.

Uncle Ward shrugged, and Link decided to get the women out of here. “You guys are done early today,” he said, turning Misty toward the exit.

“Weekend,” they said together, and he managed to get them out of the shed. Outside, the sun burned brightly, but a breeze kicked up, actually making it easier to breathe than inside.

“Listen,” he said.

“Is what he said true?” Misty demanded. “Every one of you here has a million times nine hundred dollars?” She stopped walking and faced him. Her freckles made him smile, but Link knew he couldn’t side-step this question.

“You know Shiloh Ridge does well,” he said.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “But there’s a difference between rich and like, rich.”

Link swallowed, trying to find the right words. “It’s generational wealth.”

Janie gasped. “I knew it. You guys are like the Hiltons.”

He laughed then and shook his head. “Sure, the Hiltons of the Texas Panhandle.” He tried not to look at Misty, but he couldn’t stop himself. She wore an expression like he’d picked up a two-by-four and hit her with it.

“Generational wealth,” she repeated in a soft tone that hardly sounded like her. “Link, how much do you pay in rent?”

He set his sights on the nearby stable and started walking that way. Both women fell into step with him. “I don’t pay rent,” he said. “Anymore. I mean, I used to. But yeah, not anymore.”

“Who does pay rent here?” Misty asked.

“No one,” he said. “Only family members who are required to live as hired hands, for the first year.” He hung his head as if he should be ashamed of himself for not having to pay rent. A tiny part of him—the sliver that whispered he wasn’t a true Glover—did feel guilty about that. If his mom and dad hadn’t been killed in that accident, and Sammy hadn’t married Bear Glover, his life would be drastically different.

But his parents had died. Sammy had adopted him. She’d married Bear. This was his life, and as he took the next step, he felt like he was finally moving into it.

“The other hired hands get room and board as part of their salary,” he said. “So right now, we don’t have anyone paying rent. Gunn, Smiles, Robbie, and Wilder will soon enough—if they choose to work the ranch.”

“Does anyone choose not to?” Misty asked.

Link shook his head. “Not in a while, no. Uncle Ward toured with a band for a bit. Uncle Mister went into the rodeo. But they came back.”

Neither Janie nor Misty said anything, and Link didn’t know what else to add either. “I went to college,” he said. “Got my agricultural science degree. Came back. It was then that I lived like a regular hired hand for a year. On their salary. That kind of thing. It’s what we do here, so we Glovers know what it’s like to try to make ends meet.”

They went past the stables and toward the Ranch House before Misty said, “Did you hear that, Janie? What I heard was all of the Glovers are so rich, they never have to think about making ends meet.”

“I heard that too,” Janie said. “For generations. With their generational money.”

Link didn’t like their tone, and he stopped. “You knew I had money,” he said quietly, wishing he and Misty could talk about this alone. “I told you that the first time we went out.”

Misty looked up at him, something salty in her expression. “I didn’t realize how much, I guess.”