Cash’s hand is on my calf now, guiding my boot into the stirrup with brute efficiency. I’m on fire. Help. “You can’t manhandle me like this.” “Watch me, City Girl. Scoot forward. Even more. Jesus, Mollie.” He puts his hands on my hips and yanks me toward the pommel. “There.” Then he’s somehow climbing onto the horse behind me without any assistance at all. He doesn’t even use a stirrup. Only when he lands on the horse’s back behind the saddle do I realize just how close we’re going to be on this ride. Very, very close. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I can only feel the press of his chest
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