Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Mollie sits up in her saddle. “Where are the rest of the cows?”
“Long ways away. You gotta move ’em around so they don’t overgraze the pastures. A herd this size, we’re movin’ ’em often. They’re about four miles that way.” I point into the distance.
Mollie’s eyes go wide. “Four miles?”
“That’s nothin’.” I turn my horse and head for the river. “Lucky Ranch is big, but it ain’t nearly as big as some of the famous ranches. Some of the older ones that have been around a while, they’re the size of Rhode Island.”
Goody smiles. “You don’t appreciate just how big Texas is until you’re out here, do you, Mollie?”
“I really had no idea.” Mollie puts a hand on her head. “Wow.”
I point in the other direction. “The river was Garrett’s favorite part of the ranch. You should see it.”
It also happens to be a hilly ride from here. Figure the longer City Girl’s in the saddle, the higher the chance she’ll be so sore and tired tomorrow, she’ll hate everything.
Me. The ranch. This life.
What if she doesn’t, though? No way I’ll stick around if she decides to stay. Either she’ll fire me or I’ll have to quit, no question. But then what?
Realistically, my hands are tied, whether Mollie stays or not.
I catch her looking at me a couple of times. Maybe because she knows I’m looking at her? But I don’t see ire or annoyance in her eyes when they catch on my face.
Or more often, my body. She checking me out? Or is she watching me ride, trying to pick up some pointers?
I’m sweating bullets by the time we crest the final ridge that rises above the mighty Colorado River. I can smell the water before I see it: earthy petrichor, the smell of rain on land that’s gone too long without it.
Glancing at Mollie, I wonder what she’d do if I pulled off my shirt and went for a swim to cool down. Would she fire me on the spot? Or would she just keep staring?
The river’s quiet rush fills the silence.
I stop a little before the edge of the cliff and dismount. “Safer to walk the horses. There’s a twenty-foot drop at the edge there.”
“Um, okay.” Mollie glances at the ground. Glances at me. “You made getting off your horse look easy, but somehow, I don’t think it is.”
Goody dismounts, too, pulling off her gloves. “You need help, Mollie?”
“I got her.” Sidling up beside Maria, I loosen my grip on my reins but keep them in hand. I hold up my arms. “Come on, then.”
Mollie turns her head to look at me from the corner of her eye. “I keep thinking about manslaughter.”
The heat presses down on my neck and back as I squint up at her. “I’m not gonna drop you. Even if I did, at worst, you’d break an arm.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t have a choice. Put your hands on my shoulders, and I’ll handle the rest.”
She looks at me for another beat. Then she does as I tell her, placing her palms on the tops of my shoulders. Ignoring the twist of heat in my center, I keep my eyes level with the saddle and circle her waist with my hands. I lift at the same time that she drops, pressing her weight into my torso.
I glance up to make sure she’s okay. Our eyes lock. Another twist of heat. Now that her face is inches from mine, I can see just how pretty she is. There’s a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, constellations of tiny brown dots that are a shade lighter than her eyes. Straight nose, full at the tip. And lips that are expressive and soft-looking.
I hate that I’m noticing all this shit.
I fucking hate that I can’t stop staring.
“Oh!” Mollie gasps, her eyes going wide as she lurches forward all at once. I lock my hands around her waist and manage to stop her fall before she takes us both out. She lands with a small thud on the ground, her hands still on my shoulders as she breathes, “My boot slipped. I’m so sorry.”
I’m out of breath, too, when I say, “Those boots aren’t doing you any favors.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t make them for riding.”
I meet eyes with her again. “You really own a boot company?”
“I really own a boot company, yes.” Her gaze flicks to her hands, and she blinks, dropping them. “My friend and I came up with the idea back in college.”
As someone who owns one business outright—Rivers Ranch Incorporated—and runs another, Lucky Ranch Enterprises Incorporated, I know the kind of elbow grease that requires.
Surely, she has other people do the heavy lifting for her, though?
“What?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Didn’t believe you were actually employed.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “Because you thought I spent my time getting tan and going shopping?”