“I can’t make this decision without you, Oliver.”

Mr. Hawkins narrowed his eyes as Molly turned back around.

“Please remember that I prefer to be called Mr. Hawkins by people who work for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Wyatt’s jaw tensed.

And why? Wyatt’s foreman called him Wyatt. Rubin Walsh came to the ranch house door often enough, and Molly had heard him call his boss by his first name. She’d never seen anyone give it a second thought.

Wyatt had been the owner of a ranch just as big as the Hawkins spread and called him Oliver when he visited the RHR. Oliver liked to drop in for meals. He seemed to be eager to talk to Win, but Molly suspected he was mighty sick of his own cooking.

And Wyatt’s family had found out cattle were being stolen from Hawkins and put a stop to it, ridding his ranch of traitorous cowboys. Insisting on being called Mr. Hawkins didn’t smack of much gratitude.

Add to that, Wyatt had been shot helping Mr. Hawkins.

Clearly, none of that was as important as putting Wyatt on a lower rung than before. Mr. Hawkins felt the need to do that, and it told Molly a lot about the kind of man he was—none of it good. Molly’s already low opinion of the man sank lower. She hadn’t known it was possible.

With some grumbling, Mr. Hawkins stood and took his coffee cup to the sink, which brought him too close to Molly, deliberately she was sure, then he headed for the back door. There was a huge entry, and Mr. Hawkins slowly put his coat and boots on, almost as if to test Wyatt’s patience.

Wyatt held the door to let Mr. Hawkins go out ahead of him. Wyatt looked over his shoulder at Molly and grinned like he was a kid getting away with a handful of candy. He was getting his surly boss out of the house. His hazel eyes flashed, and she remembered their kiss. She remembered waking up with his strong arms around her.

Then he was gone, but the memories stayed with her.

Molly waited for a few seconds, watching them head for the barn, to make sure Mr. Hawkins didn’t forget something and come back. But she was worried about how long Wyatt could keep him busy, so before more than a few seconds had passed, she grabbed a knife out of the kitchen drawer and ran for that loose floorboard.

Pounding up the stairs, she dashed into Mr. Hawkins’s bedroom and noted she’d yet to tidy it, so she had an excuse to be in there, then she dropped to her knees beside a chest of drawers. There were two boards that slid up just a bit and weren’t flush with the other boards. They should have been nailed down. She tried prying with her fingernails.