Page 1 of Live, Ranch, Love

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Aurora

Whenever I watched my favourite Christmas film Love Actually growing up, I always hoped I’d end up like Keira Knightley, with a sweet Andrew Lincoln confessing his love for me on handwritten cards. Or maybe I’d be Martine McCutcheon, caught snogging the sexy Prime Minister, who hopefully looks like a young Hugh Grant.

But turns out, I’m bloody Colin Firth.

Catching my partner cheating on me.

How exactly does a positivity and wellness influencer whose entire career has been built on teaching people how to be happier, more successful, and have fulfilling relationships, spin that?

Rejection is just redirection! Sometimes you need him to cheat on you so you can move on and find the right one!

Apparently you run away to a different continent after a month in hiding at your mum’s house. To the only place that you think might save you from your spiralling lack of self-confidence and inspiration. The two things that your career is riding on.

And as the taxi nears the wooden archway where iron letters hang, spelling out Sunset Ranch, while golden memories ease any leftover tension from travelling, I really hope I’m right.

I remember always loving the long drive from the airport to my great aunt’s. Watching the city slowly turn into quaint towns and rolling fields with inky mountain backdrops. Driving up the long stretch of road from Willow Ridge, seeing the big wooden house up the dirt track, positioned so perfectly in front of two tall mountain peaks where the sun always set between them, bathing everything in an orange glow. Just like it is now.

It’s how Auntie Grace came up with the name for Sunset Ranch. That and because her favourite saying was always sunsets are proof that no matter what, every day can end beautifully. A reminder I’ve been needing.

I have to push down the sob lurching in my chest when I realise I won’t ever hear her tell me that again—she would’ve been the best person to cheer me up after everything with Jake. She always had a solution for everything, like a self-help book personified.

I guess I’ll just have to find a way to be strong and tell it to myself instead. That’s what she would’ve told me to do.

Still, I think this is the most relaxed my body has felt since I came back from the funeral we did for her in London. And all it took was a ten hour flight across the world. A bit excessive, but let’s hope it’s a good sign—that coming here to fix up and sell the place might give me a much needed mental reset.

If I want to keep my job, I’m going to need it.

Thick strokes of amber and saffron fade into the cornflower sky above, the last few deep golden rays of sunlight sweeping over the surrounding pastures from between the mountains. The taxi comes to a halt at the archway, sunlight glinting off the sign.

“Alright, Miss Jones. Here ya go,” announces the driver. He’s a middle-aged man named Luke, who spent most of the journey asking me what words we say differently across the pond—like chocolate instead of candy, or jam instead of jelly.

I didn’t mind though, it helped to keep my mind off the fact that I didn’t manage to come up with a single sentence for a new article or Instagram post during the whole flight. I can’t even face checking my emails right now, knowing there’s going to be one from the magazine with the editorial schedule attached, blank spaces by my name.

God, I desperately need this trip to help me find my passion for writing again, because even though I can take a cute picture or video for my feed, it’s the captions that my followers want. They’re there for the inspiring quotes and knowledge that have helped me build my business. That’s what I do this all for, I love teaching people and sharing what I’ve learnt.

Aware I have two overstuffed, large suitcases to haul up to the house, which is about ninety metres up the road, I furrow my brow. “Oh, do you mind going up to the house, please?”

Luke unbuckles himself, leaving the car to open my door. Got to love a good old gentleman. “I’m sorry, Miss, but Mr Hensley prefers us to stay off the private property.” He holds out a hand, encouraging me out.

I make a little huff. It might be private property, but it’s technically my private property now. Though, I don’t say that, as it sounds a bit too entitled in my head, and I still haven’t quite comprehended the truth of it either.

Sunset Ranch is my ranch now.

I can’t believe she left it to me.

Because it’s more than just the big house I used to stay in every summer growing up. It’s a whole bloody business, one my great aunt was struggling to manage in the economic climate. Hence why Auntie Grace had already started renovating a lot of the old buildings into guesthouses before I inherited it, to find some way of making up for the investment the ranch unexpectedly needed.

And now it’s all down to me to sort it. The great niece who was always too nervous to learn to ride a horse.

I’m slightly concerned this trip won’t be as relaxing as I thought.

Still, I climb out of the car, rummaging for my purse. “How much do I owe you?”

“No need, Mr Hensley settled up in advance the other day.” Luke rounds the car to the boot, where he heaves out my two purple suitcases. He wipes his forehead afterwards. “Did ya bring the whole royal family in these with you?”

I laugh and put my purse away, surprised Mr Hensley, the head rancher who worked for my great aunt, didn’t mention that. Though, he hasn’t even replied to my earlier text letting him know I was in the taxi. Something tells me he’s not a very tech-savvy old man.

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