Page 72 of Cash

But just when I’m about to go in for the kill, she steps back and turns toward the door, offering me a little wave over her shoulder. “Good night, Cash.”

I have the peace of mind to yell after her, “Lock the door.”

“Of course I’m locking the door. I don’t want you getting in.”

Brat.

But apparently, I’m one hundred percent into that now. I’m hard. And wide awake. And supremely annoyed that I’m hard and wide awake at midnight on a Friday.

Running a hand over my face, I wait until I hear the bolt slide home in the lock. Then I climb inside my truck and head home.

Not gonna lie, I wish Mollie were coming home with me.

Mollie is in the kitchen when I arrive at four o’clock sharp the next morning. Smells good, like something’s being sautéed in a shit ton of butter.

I’m technically off on Saturdays and Sundays, but I always end up working anyway, which is why I’m up. Patsy’s off weekends, too, so she’ll stock the fridge on Friday with all kinds of stuff for us to pick on until Monday.

Nice change of pace to have a hot breakfast made by none other than Mollie Luck.

She’s at the range again, stirring that pan. Pieces of bread are lined up in a nearby toaster. I draw up short when I notice she’s wearing riding clothes. Cowboy clothes,more like it. T-shirt, jeans, boots that aren’t sparkly and pink.

She want to work with us today?

That fact shouldn’t put a smile on my face, but it does. Maybe seeing the stars last night made her realize the magic of being out here. And, yeah, I like that she’s taking an interest in the ranch.

I like that she cares.

She’s got her hair in a ponytail. She’s wearing the glasses again.

I fucking love her in glasses.

I resist the impulse to sidle up behind her. Wrap my arms around her and kiss her neck.

My right hand clearly ain’t doing it for me anymore.

I watch Mollie open the cabinet beside the stove and reach for a new bottle of hot sauce. We killed the other one at dinner last night. Texas Pete takes Patsy’s white chicken chili to the next level.

Wordlessly, I cross the kitchen and grab it for her. Today, she smells like sunscreen. So sheisplanning to work with us.

Falling back on her heels, her arm brushes my side as she smiles up at me. “Thank you.”

“Mornin’. Smells good.” I peel off the plastic and twist off the cap before handing her the bottle. “What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Wyatt invited me to join y’all today. And you’re up early too. Want an omelet?”

“I’d love one.” Turning around, I lean my backside against the countertop and cross my arms so that I’m facing Mollie. She’s got bags underneath her eyes. But her eyes themselves? They’re lit up, same as they were last night. “How’re you feeling?”

“Okay. I don’t know how y’all stay out so late and then get up at the ass crack of dawn.”

I nod at the coffeepot. “Why do you think we make it sostrong? Appreciate you makin’ some food for us this morning.”

“I imagine everyone will be more than a little hungover this morning. Carbs and cheese are the answer.”

I get that buzzy feeling in the back of my throat again. Like my heart’s plugged into an electrical socket and its vibrations echo up and down my spinal column.

“Kind of you,” I say.

Mollie flips the pair of omelets sizzling in the skillet. “Don’t call the devil. I’ve never made breakfast for twenty people before, so I really may end up poisoning y’all. Although this time, it won’t be intentional.”

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