Cash Jessica Peterson Quotes

For the cowgirl in all of us. Ride hard. Ride often. Ride free.

Honey, I’d marry the shit out of you. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but because I’m in love with you.

You’re a cowgirl now, honey. And cowgirls can’t be tamed. Wouldn’t dare to try.

Nothing’s simple unless you make it simple.” She gives me a watery grin. “So I make it simple.” “I’m here to help you try, honey.

This ain’t the first time I gotta cowboy up. Sure as hell won’t be the last.

Don’t know what I love more. My morning coffee or my afternoon beer.” “Depends on who you’re having it with, I think.

I’m not crying. There’s no crying in cowboying.” “Cute League of Their Own reference,” Cash says, even as his nostrils flare. “But cowboys do cry, Mollie.

Maybe Dad wasn’t a bad person. Maybe I’m not either. Maybe we were both just hurt people, and we did the best we could with what we had.

You don’t know how fun I can be, sweetheart. You want me to teach you how to use those legs? Let me get between ’em, and I’ll show you exactly how it’s done.

There are cowboys, and then there are cowboys.

So you like the ’stache,” I manage. “On everyone else, I hate it. On you?” Mollie’s nostrils flare. “It’s like the second coming of Tom Selleck.

Cute League of Their Own reference,” Cash says, even as his nostrils flare. “But cowboys do cry, Mollie.

This is beautiful. I get why Dad liked it out here.

I don’t know this woman, who married a lawyer in a bar in a ceremony officiated by a veterinarian, but I already like her.

I’ve never wanted to burn anything down. But I’d burn down this whole town if it meant never seeing that look in her eyes again.

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.

Grinning, Mollie loops her arms around my neck and presses her tits against my chest. “Shame you don’t like messy and ridiculous things, because I am one.

You’re telling me you’re surrounded by hot cowboys, but you’re going to have sex with Gordon Gekko instead?

Family is great, but it’s also a burden. “I’m jealous of you,” I say. “Your freedom.

I’m not crying. There’s no crying in cowboying.

I loved growing up in a big family. Loved being surrounded by people, despite the chaos. Most of all, I loved the feeling of belonging I’d get when the seven of us were together.

We’re in the bathtub a week later when I fall in love with Mollie. It happens all of a sudden. Or maybe it’s been happening all along, and it only takes some bubbles and a good, hard laugh for the realization to finally crystallize.

Wheeler, I just took you on a tour of my family’s working cattle ranch. We saw cows, horses, snakes, and a freaking bald eagle. Not to mention the Colorado River. But all you can talk about is cowboys?” Wheeler blinks. “Yes, cowboys are what interest me most. What’s wrong with that?

The man can be a grade-A asshole. But right now, I feel kinda bad for him. From my limited observation, Cash really is the go-to guy here on the ranch. People come to him with problems, and he always has a solution. I imagine that kind of responsibility, the constant barrage of interruptions, is a heavy weight to carry.

Patsy laughs. “Two of them were. The third he got when he fell on a dance floor, trying to do the Cotton Eye Joe.” Mollie blinks. “You dance?” “Used to, until the concussion.” I lean my backside against the counter and cross my arms. I don’t miss the way Mollie’s eyes flick over my torso, stopping to linger on my forearms. “Made a rookie mistake and wore new boots to The Rattler. Hadn’t scuffed up the soles enough to get traction.

This is a pair of Lucchese: expertly made, expensive, and classic. They’re the kind of cowboy boots you pass down from generation to generation.

Even Dolly Parton doesn’t dress like Dolly Parton all the time.” “Don’t you dare speak ill of Dolly.” Mollie slips her thumbs through the belt loops of her skinny jeans. “And the only clown I see is you.

You laughin’ at my wobble?” he shouts over the music. Nope, I’m checking out your delicious Wrangler butt like every other person in this bar. “I would never!

Dolly is a goddamn treasure. I’d never insult her. But she’s not out here riding horses and working cattle in her big fancy getups, is she?

There’s a reason they say cowboys do it better, and faster, and harder, and all the things.

I’m gripped by a sense of unease. The truck is a Denali. Current model, like Mollie’s Range Rover. And like the Rover, this is a six-figure vehicle. One that’s clearly never seen a day’s work outside. I’d bet my life savings that the guy who owns it either parks it in his deck at work or at his country club in the suburbs.

Like a true Texan, Goody keeps spare riding gear in the trunk of her pickup. She’d

I want to be back in Dallas so bad, my stomach hurts. Then again, my stomach always hurts, so that’s nothing new.

Yeah, I don’t have a ton of money. Not yet. And my family’s kind of a mess. But I love them, and they love me. I take care of my own. I’ll protect this woman till my last dying breath, and while I’m still alive, it’ll be my mission to help her make her dreams come true.

I hope you don’t view that as some kind of betrayal, because it’s not. It’s just me, following my truth as I figure it out.

Yes, cowboys are what interest me most. What’s wrong with that?

I know we’ve talked theoretically about helping each other bury bodies. But would you actually be my accomplice? If I need you?” I hear the grin in her voice when she says, “You say the word and we’ll ride at dawn, shovels in hand.

I was a Friday night regular at Hartsville’s infamous dive bar, until a line-dancing accident sent me to the hospital six years ago. The concussion kept me from working on the ranch for weeks, and shit hit the fan while I was away. Can’t risk that happening again.

Shame you don’t like messy and ridiculous things, because I am one.

Didn’t Tim McGraw and Faith Hill first meet because they were working together?” he continues. “Now look at ’em. They’ve built a goddamn empire together. Could be you and Mollie.

But I’m better-looking than Tim, right?” “Dude, no one’s better-looking than Tim. Have you seen him lately? The man is a fuckin’ ripped,

What a mess. What a beautiful fucking mess we’re making.

No, I don’t. That’s how concussions happen.

But it is a shock to see Cash Rivers doing it, and doing it well. Just like the LL Cool J song, it’s really fucking hot.

You dance?” “Used to, until the concussion.

Exactly how much Yellowstone have you watched?” “Enough to know my way around dismemberment.

It’ll make a great reel,” he said. I looked at him. “What the fuck is a reel?

Just because you’re not perfect doesn’t mean you’re broken.

She were mine, I’d have my hands all over her. Everyone would know she was taken. And she’d know just how much I wanted her.

Before I know what’s happening, I’m lifting my arm and twirling her around. She laughs, the sound loud and real, so I twirl her again, and again.

I was a Friday night regular at Hartsville’s infamous dive bar, until a line-dancing accident sent me to the hospital six years ago.

Being an only child has its perks, but, well…I’ll say it this way: I want more than one kid if I’m lucky enough to have a family of my own.

Look at this pretty pussy,” he says. “Perfect. So fucking perfect, Mollie. I fuckin’ hate that you kept this from me for so long.

At first, I couldn’t fucking stand you.” I scoff. “And now I can’t fucking stand how much I want you.” His eyes look positively feral. “Ask me.” “Ask what?” “Ask me to give you what you want.” I stare at him. “I can’t⁠—” “But you can.” He steps closer, melting his hips into mine. “Because you gotta know by now, I can’t deny you anything, Mollie. Not a fuckin’ thing.

I hate being told what to do.” “Then you’re gonna hate me.

And, yeah, maybe the fantasy of knocking you up turns me on in a way it shouldn’t.

Why? Because she ain’t into you?

You have condoms at the cabin, right?” “Fuck off.

This was a bad idea. What was I thinking? What do her tits look like wet? You are a pervert. She needs comfort, not an orgasm.

I know you have regrets, Mollie. But seeing you today—” I swallow. “You’re doing the right thing.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Is Grumpy Cowboy here a secret optimist? And really, how did he survive losing his parents? How did he not crumple when, at nineteen, he was faced with the huge responsibility of raising his brothers?

I press the back of my wrist to my eyes and blink, hard. “I’m not crying. There’s no crying in cowboying.” “Cute League of Their Own reference,” Cash says, even as his nostrils flare. “But cowboys do cry, Mollie.” “Tom Hanks was so good in that movie.” “Madonna was better.” My heart dips. Of course he’d say that. Goddamn it, this man is relentless today. Makes me cry harder. I’m overwhelmed. I’m so sore, it hurts to breathe. “I love Madonna.” I wipe my nose on my sleeve.

She’s starting a cult, isn’t she?” Ryder asks Sawyer. “I’ve always wanted to be in one of those.

Then we’ll either take a bath or hang in bed, where Mollie often pulls out her laptop and works while I try not to hump her leg like the horny dog she’s turned me into.

I’m in love with you, Cash. But Dad’s will—the stipulation keeping me on the ranch—it got struck down.” I swallow. “I think—Cash, I have to go back to Dallas.