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)
Smiling, I sit up straighter. “That was a surprisingly great little speech, Cash.”
“Thank you kindly.” He touches his fingers to the front of his hat, looking so much like Brad Pitt from Legends of the Fall that I can only stare, heart lodging itself somewhere in my throat. I half expect Anthony Hopkins to show up and chastise me about ogling his best-looking son.
Are there really no bears out here?
This whole thing would be a lot easier if Cash wasn’t so fucking gorgeous.
“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 fringes of 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 just do 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. “Hot dayum.”
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?”
“This is a workout, but I’m okay.”
Cash trots over, his shirt plastered to his chest and stomach. “Take a break if you need one. Drink lots of water. More’n you think you need.”
“Who made you boss?” I say with a smirk.
“Your daddy did. You best listen.”
I wag my eyebrows. “Yessir.”
Wyatt eyes us. “Is this some kinda weird foreplay y’all got going on?”
“Nah.” I sip water from the thermos Cash dropped into my saddlebag earlier. Bless him, he put ice in it. “Just your brother pretending to be in charge.”
Cash’s forearm flexes as he guides his horse closer. “That a challenge?”
“Just a fact,” I clip.
Wyatt throws back his head and laughs. “She’s got more Garrett in her than I gave her credit for.”
I expect Cash to scowl. Say something underhanded and mean at the very least.
Instead, he just looks at me from under the brim of his hat. “Surprisin’ us all, ain’t she?”
My back hurts from riding. My face hurts from smiling. Having Wyatt and Cash compare me to Dad makes my chest swell.