Page 4 of Live, Ranch, Love

“Perfect.” He snorts out a laugh. Shaking his head, he then twists to leave again. My smile immediately drops.

In the distance, I hear him grunt, “Fuck. My. Life.”

I’m predicting that working with this man is going to require lots of deep breathing sessions and stress-relieving meditations.

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Wyatt

Ilike to think I’m a good person. I work hard, I take good care of my family, especially my younger siblings and grandfather. I even give money to charity every month to support the Indigenous heritage initiatives my mom sometimes volunteers for.

Yet for some reason the world has decided to punish me by sending over a red-headed British princess to knock down the small bit of happiness I’ve managed to build for myself.

I mean, she literally shares the same name as one of the Disney Princesses—knowledge I’ve regrettably gained from my younger sister forcing me to watch those films.

My dad would laugh and say this is what I get for giving up everything to work on a ranch for someone else. The classic old I told you so lecture I’ve been dreading to experience again. It was soul-draining enough to hear after Holly left me, because if I’d gotten myself a fancy job like my parents wanted or pursued my football career, that would never have happened, apparently.

Even though I’ve known for a while now, since Grace got ill, that my future here was less certain, I really didn’t expect it to be destroyed so soon. Especially not by a wellness and positivity influencer. Whatever the hell that is.

As I race towards my place—a cabin-like building just a short walk up the track from the main house—I realise my mom would also say that I was raised to be a gentleman, and in no way was I one just then with Aurora. I wipe a hand over my face, groaning, because I do feel bad for not being more welcoming.

But the way she barrelled up to the house, like she already owned the place, despite the fact that she likely has zero idea how to run a ranch, pissed me off.

And then she mentioned selling, and any patience I had—which is rarely much even on a good day—vanished.

It took every inch of self-control to force myself back to at least take her suitcases up to the front door. Even though it was mildly entertaining watching her try to tackle them, given that they looked about twice her size.

It doesn’t matter how attractive she is either—with her freckled golden skin, wide hazel eyes, and striking copper hair—as soon as she started talking, that posh British accent coming out, my body buzzed with infuriation. Even if that little purple gym set she had on did cling to her figure far too distractingly.

It doesn’t matter.

She doesn’t belong here.

She won’t understand how important this place is.

Aurora’s out of sight by the time I reach my front door—I can only see the back deck from here.

I know if I go inside, I’m just going to sit and work myself up, so I head back down the porch steps and jump in my old red Ford F250. I turn the radio up loud, letting the lyrics of my favourite man Zach Bryan drown out my thoughts. I take the truck up to the stables where my American Quarter horse, Dusty, is resting. She gives me the dirtiest side-eye when I tack her up.

I give her a pat as I lead her out. “Sorry, girl, I just need to clear my head for a bit. I’ll bring you extra carrots tomorrow, promise.”

Dusty offers me a brief huff in response, but I know she’s a wild spirit at heart like me and can never resist a ride around the lake. As soon as I’m mounted, I give her a squeeze and she’s off galloping through the fields happily, proving I know her too well.

I’ve run Sunset Ranch for Grace since my grandfather’s stroke four years ago. It was never the most profitable ranch even when my pops was in charge, but I’ve kept it afloat the best I can, despite rising costs in the last couple of years. Grace gave me the freedom to make Sunset Ranch as much mine as it was hers—as long as I kept her safe haven running, that’s all that mattered.

I think she knew I’d appreciate what it meant to her—given she left her corporate job in London to start it, going against everything her family wanted for her. I’ll always remember the chat she had with me before I headed off to college, reminding me to make time for what I enjoyed, even if it didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

And honestly, Sunset Ranch has become my safe haven too. Even if my family doesn’t understand, it’s the only place I’ve ever felt fully myself. The only place I’ve ever felt truly free. Able to roam and soar like an eagle.

It’s why I gave up everything to be here. And it’s why I’ll do anything to make sure I don’t lose it.

The world’s shown me that I can’t always have everything I want, but this is the one thing I’ll forever fight for.

I don’t know what I’d do without it.

I’m not naïve enough to pretend that I don’t know what’s been happening to other ranches, people selling out because the money we get for the work we do just isn’t sustainable, and that anxiety is spreading into Willow Ridge.

But I haven’t let myself even consider that yet properly, hoping it meant I wasn’t speaking it into existence. Hoping I’d be saved from having to return to my parents’ house, tail between my legs. Hoping I wouldn’t have to be applying to jobs way below my experience level at other ranches, where everyone knows who I am, and will just echo the usual peaked at high school gossip.

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