Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“And easy,” one of the other brothers says with a smirk. It has to be Ryder, Duke’s twin. They look almost exactly alike, save for Duke’s slightly shorter hair and the barely visible scar on Ryder’s bottom lip.
“My fee is just a pair of your beautiful boots,” Duke says.
I realize we’re still shaking hands. The warmth of his, the viselike sensation of his grip, has me feeling giddy. “I’ll have my people reach out to your people.”
“Ma’am, when I have ‘people,’ you and I are gonna finish this conversation on a yacht somewhere in the Caribbean.”
Ryder groans. “Keep dreaming.”
Another brother, this one with shaggy, dark blond hair, rolls his eyes.
But me? I grin. What a freaking delight, meeting a cowboy who thinks outside the box. Ranch. Whatever.
“I like to travel. Visiting new places is one of the biggest perks of owning a business.” Dropping his hand, I fold my arms over my chest. “Let’s save the date.”
“I like to travel too. Hope to do more of it.” His eyes, so blue they seem to glow in the soft light of the kitchen, bore into mine. “And yes, it’s a date.”
It’s hard to look away. But then a ponytailed woman bearing two bottles of wine approaches, introducing herself as Patsy, Lucky Ranch’s chef.
Cash and his four brothers, along with Mollie, Patsy, her husband, John B, and their daughter, Sally, all crowd around the farm table. Mollie’s attorney, Goody Gershwin, and her wife, Tallulah, also join us. We tuck into a homemade meal that’s absolutely delicious: pork tenderloin roasted with apples, along with mashed sweet potatoes and sautéed greens.
I can’t remember the last time I sat down to supper. Growing up, my family ate together almost every night until my brothers and I got so busy with school and activities that the ritual happened less and less. My parents abandoned it altogether when they really started to not get along around the time I was entering high school.
I miss those suppers.
Really, I miss the time when our family was (relatively) happy. Because we were at one point. Dad wasn’t quite so angry. Mom wasn’t depressed. Preston wasn’t a jerk. Then slowly, bit by bit, everything—everyone—changed.
My stomach flips for an entirely different reason when Mollie pulls out her laptop after we’re done eating. She and I have been working on a big proposal for days now. I’m excited for her.
I’m also a little wistful. A few times, I found myself wishing that someone could love me the way Cash loves Mollie. The two of them have chemistry out the wazoo, sure, but they’re also friends. He’s got her back, and he cares about how she feels. What she needs. Wants. Thinks.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
As usual, Mollie slays the delivery of her proposal. Cash and his brothers were raised on their family’s neighboring property, Rivers Ranch. They’ve struggled with its upkeep since their parents’ passing in a car accident twelve years ago. Mollie told me Cash has always dreamed of saving his pennies and restoring his family’s land.
Mollie gives him the plans to do exactly that. She proposes combining Rivers Ranch with Lucky Ranch, creating Lucky River Ranch. Mollie and the Rivers brothers would split revenue equally. She and I even designed a logo for the new property, a turquoise horseshoe flanked by stars and the ranch’s name.
Cash cries.
Mollie cries.
We all cry. And then we all burst into a fresh round of tears when Cash proposes, and Mollie accepts with a hell yes.
We pop champagne and toast to the newly engaged couple.
One of the cowboys—the one with the shaggy hair who I think is named Wyatt—slams down his drink and says, “Let’s celebrate! To the Rattler!”
I glance at Duke to find him looking at me. My stomach dips for the hundredth time.
“Best dive bar on the planet,” he explains. “You in?”
I shrug. “It’s not a yacht in the Caribbean.”
“All good things, Wheeler.”
Why is it so damn sexy when a guy says your name?
Really, when this guy says it.
I’m smiling like an idiot. I like how easy this feels. How light and fun, the opposite of how I felt when I woke up this morning.
“I’m in.”
____
We pile into a convoy of mud-splattered pickup trucks and head into town. Hartsville has all of one thousand residents, but Main Street is hopping tonight.
It’s love at first sight when I lay eyes on the Rattler. It’s tucked into a row of weathered buildings with big, old-fashioned windows whose hand-blown panes waver in the gleam of passing headlights. The sidewalk is lit up with every shade of neon, thanks to the beer signs that hang inside the bar.
Duke holds the door open for me. Like his brothers, he’s put on a broken-in denim jacket. I’m glad he’s still wearing the baseball hat. Add in his smile and the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, and you have one very tall glass of water.