Karla woke the next morning, trying to remember what day it was. She yawned, her eyes drier than normal, and wished she could go back to sleep. She stayed in bed, but falling back asleep was fruitless. Once she was awake, she couldn’t go back to sleep.
The exhaustion level of entertaining Cache late at night was more than she’d anticipated. Probably because she was no spring chicken anymore. Semi-frustrated at herself for such a lame idiom, even inside her own mind, she got up and raked her fingers through her hair.
She didn’t always work on ranch business on the weekends. Scarlett didn’t expect her to, because if Karla lived down in Pasadena the way Amber and Sissy did, she’d have neighbors and friends outside of the ranch. She’d be able to go walking on Saturday morning or take her dog
