Cash (Lucky River Ranch #1) Read Online Jessica Peterson

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Lucky River Ranch Series by Jessica Peterson
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Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
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Really, why not accept the compliment? I am getting laid, and I am happy.

Really fucking happy.

“I’ve missed you,” I say. “Gorgeous dress, as always.”

Wheeler steps back and kicks up her foot, her dress falling back to reveal a pair of metallic-turquoise boots that are the cornerstone of our next collection.

I gasp. “Oh my God, they’re here!”

“First pair off the assembly line,” she says proudly. “Aren’t they the tits?”

“I think I like you already.” Cash emerges from the bedroom and holds out his hand. “Wheeler, I’m Cash. Pleasure.”

Wheeler’s eyes bulge as they move up, up, up. She’s petite, barely five feet tall, and Cash towers over her.

She literally stares as she absently takes his hand. “Hey. Hi. Cash. Ha. Hello. Mollie told me about you, but…”

“Wheeler,” I warn.

She turns her wide eyes to me. “What? You could’ve prepared me a little more. There are cowboys, and then there are cowboys.”

“She’s right,” Cash says solemnly. “I’m the second kind.”

I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

“Since when are you so cocky?” I ask, knowing full well what his answer will be.

One side of his mouth hitches up. “Since forever.”

“Oh, my.” Wheeler puts her free hand on her chest. “I am so glad you came to visit us in Dallas, Cash.”

“So you and Mollie go way back.” Cash reaches for the huge tote bag she’s got slung over her shoulder. “I’m dyin’ to know what she was like in high school. She was a troublemaker, wasn’t she?”

Wheeler is still staring as she lets him take her bag. “Good guess. She was feral.”

“No, I wasn’t!”

Wheeler leans in to whisper conspiratorially in Cash’s ear, “She worked hard, but she played harder. I certainly wasn’t the one who set our dorm room on fire.”

“That was an accident.” I follow them into the kitchen. “I still think someone else turned my straightener back on.”

“It was a cigarette,” Wheeler says. “It would’ve burned down the whole building if I didn’t think to grab the fire extinguisher.”

“Thank God Mollie has you,” Cash says.

Wheeler smiles up at him. “Right? Lucky bitch.”

She turns her head to give me a look over her shoulder. Holy fuck, she mouths.

My face hurts from smiling so hard. My heart flutters as I watch the man I love and my best friend in the world lovingly talk shit about me as they get to know one another.

Despite being in a new place with someone he doesn’t know, Cash is completely at ease. He’s charming. Funny. A good listener. He asks intelligent questions and thoughtfully answers the questions Wheeler asks him about the ranch. My heart flutters when he brags about my cowgirl skills.

The only alcohol I have in the condo is a bottle of the Opus One wine. I open it and pour us each a generous glass, marveling at how much life has changed since I opened the last bottle of this stuff with Palmer.

I’m in the same condo. Opening the same bottle of wine. But everything else is different. Not only does the man I’m with want to stay, but I want him to stay, too, and I’d be crushed if he left.

The loneliness I’m only realizing now that I felt after Palmer would leave, the quiet, has been replaced by the happy chatter of dear friends and the anticipation of a night of really, really great sex.

“Love your boots, Wheeler,” Cash is saying as I hand him his wine. “From the new collection, right?”

Wheeler eyes me over her glass. She keeps doing that—giving me these looks, a small smile on her lips.

“You’re up-to-date on your Bellamy Brooks, I see.” Wheeler turns back to Cash. “If we made men’s boots, you’d be first on the list to model them.”

“Would I have to take off my shirt?”

“Yes.”

“Count me in.” He grabs my leg when I try to sit in the chair next to his. Without another word, he guides me onto his lap and puts his hand on my thigh. “Y’all have some real talent. The boots you make are beautiful.”

Wheeler grins. “Coming from a cowboy, that’s high praise. I have a few more pairs from our new collection in that bag.” She nods at her tote on the counter. “Want to see?”

“Wheeler!” I jump up. “You should’ve said something.”

She sips her wine before getting to her feet. “Excuse me for wanting to get to know your boyfriend first.”

Cash chuckles. “Thank you kindly.”

I flick on the overhead lights and Wheeler sets the boots out, one at a time, on my kitchen counter. There’s a pair of short chestnut-brown ones with star-shaped metallic-gold cutouts that are breathtaking. Another knee-high pair is ivory, embroidered with pastel pink and orange flowers.

The mid-calf pairs, though, are my favorite. They’re like the ones Wheeler is wearing, only in different colors: silver, dark gray, lavender. Each pair is slightly different. The silver is metallic with classic Western embroidery that’s so subtle, it’s barely noticeable. The gray is python print with a rounded toe and Long Live Cowgirls sewn onto the shaft in candy-apple red.


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