Page 5 of Cash

“Sure as hell is my business. I’ll be damned if our operation is sold to one of your idiot trust-fund friends who doesn’t know their ass from their elbow when it comes to ranching. You got no idea how much work we’ve put in?—”

“I don’t care.” I clench my teeth. “Truly, I could care less about you or whatever work you do.”

“You couldn’t care less.”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes bore into mine. “That’s the proper expression.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Where do I begin?” He leans forward.

“All right, y’all.” Goody raises her voice. “Let’s try andkeep it civil, all right? Garrett wouldn’t want y’all arguing this way. We have to respect his wishes as he laid them out in his will. It is the law.”

“I’m gonna fight this,” Cash says.

I purse my lips. “I’d like to see you try.”

Goody clears her throat. “May I finish?”

Cash’s eyes stay locked on mine. “Go for it.”

“The monetary assets—cash and the investment portfolio, which have been placed in a trust—will also go to Mollie.”

Dad made a pile of money back in the nineties when oil was discovered on a far corner of our family’s property. Mom got some of it in the divorce, and she used it to start a real estate brokerage company in Dallas. Dad divided the rest between the ranch and the stock market. Considering the Dow Jones Industrial Average has increased fourfold since then…yeah, there’s a lot of money there.

Cash lets out a dark chuckle. “See, City Girl? You got your money. Let us have the ranch.”

I take a page from his book and stay silent. No point honoring that ridiculousness with a response. Although what does he mean when he saysus?

“However”—Goody flattens her palm on the table beside mine—“there is a stipulation.”

I finally break eye contact with Cash to look at Dad’s attorney. “A stipulation? Like I have to be a certain age or something to inherit the estate?”

“Sort of.” She hesitates. “This stipulation…is unique, I’ll say that much. Your father is requiring you to reside on Lucky Ranch for one full calendar year before you can access any of the funds in the trust. He also requests you actively participate in the day-to-day operations as principal of Lucky Ranch Enterprises, Incorporated. If you do so, you’ll receive a generous monthly stipend from the trust for every month you reside in Hartsville.”

I laugh.

I throw back my head and laugh, hard, because if I don’t, I’m worried I’ll puke.

Surely, Goody is joking.Surely, my father, a quiet, practical man, would never askme—the daughter he sent to boarding school and then to college in major cities—to live in the middle of nowhere for a year while running acattle ranch.

But Goody just looks at me and blinks. Totally unfazed.

Oh, God. She’s serious.

“That can’t be right.” Cash leans over to glance at the paperwork. “Doesn’t sound like Garrett.”

At least we can agree on that.

Goody tilts her head. “I was sitting in this very chair when Garrett said exactly those words back in April. We drafted the new will that day.”

I blink back tears, my stomach pitching. “But why make me live on the ranch? Is that even legal? How can it be enforced?”

Goody takes a long inhale and then holds out her hands, palms up. “It’s what your dad wanted, Mollie. I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you hoped to hear.”

“What if I don’t do it?”

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