Page 5 of Live, Ranch, Love

I know that people will say I might be able to carry on working here when it’s sold, but the likelihood of the ranch being bought out by another Grace is about zero. Yes, if someone buys the ranch and wants to capitalise on making it into holiday homes—like Grace expected since she already started renovating some of the old buildings—they might want to keep some of us on to look after the land, even without the cattle. However, there’s no way they’ll match the salary Grace gave us or let me stay in my house. I don’t technically own it, it’s just part of my contract, with a small rent to be paid. So that’s extra upheaval.

The alternative is probably what most of the other ranchers around Willow Ridge are worried about. You’re either going to be bought out by some rich-ass millionaire who just wants the land for themselves, maybe to do a bit of fishing and horse riding and pissing about, but never anything that requires employing all of us ranchers. Or, you’ll get some company buying the ranch for the land, where they’ll just end up splitting it up to sell it off or wiping any trace of ranching away by building some huge mall.

Basically, I’m fucked.

Usually, it only takes a few minutes riding before my mind returns to a more comforting emptiness, the whistling fresh air and glowing sunset kneading out any tension that’s built in my body.

But today, there’s an unshakeable feeling hovering over me. One that the thrum of hooves beating against the ground or amber sunlight glistening across the lake can’t move. One that feels like a chapter has come to an end, and I’m not sure if I want to turn the page.

***

Aurora: Morning! I’d love to discuss everything that needs sorting out for the ranch today, so feel free to pop over when you get a chance! I’ll probably be out the back when you get here! Thanks!!!

I can practically hear her sunny British accent chiming through with her excessive use of exclamation marks. Doesn’t this woman realise that texting was created to reduce the amount we had to say to each other? One of my favourite inventions actually.

It’s barely even late morning and my muscles are already aching. The lack of sleep probably didn’t set me up well for today, nor did one of our ranchers, Josh, calling in sick, doubling my workload for the day. Still, while some might complain, the idea of getting to spend longer out in the fields or on the back of Dusty somewhat soothes me.

As I near the house, I notice a flash of copper hair shining in the morning sun on the back deck. I have to angle my head as I get closer, trying to figure out how the hell Aurora’s body is contorting the way it is without her screaming in pain. In fact, she’s even smiling as one leg bends in front of her, while she reaches back over her head to hold her other foot.

A masochistic princess then.

Upbeat, classical music plays from a speaker at the top of her purple yoga mat which is decorated with little white butterflies. Her eyes are closed, so she hasn’t seen me climb up the stairs. It gives me a chance to take a few deep breaths to calm my already tensing body at the sight of the woman who might be about to tear down my dreams.

It also gives me a chance to notice the tight, light-green sports bra and shorts she’s wearing that show off even more of her toned body than her outfit yesterday. Mesh panels on her thighs reveal lean muscle, and another panel down the middle of her chest shows off an intricate tattoo of a butterfly on her sternum that’s just a little bit too sexy for my liking right now.

There is something about tattoos on a woman that excites me. Especially when that said woman gives off the kind of innocent, sweet vibe that Aurora does. It’s like they’re a little window into the dark side she’s hiding.

“What’s with the butterflies?” I ask.

Aurora starts, letting go of her leg with a squeak. She opens her eyes, immediately gracing me with another smile as she shuffles onto her knees. She’s too cheery for the morning, I don’t like it.

“Good morning,” she chimes. Her voice is much softer than yesterday, and less flustered. I’m guessing she probably got a good night’s sleep after all that travelling—can’t be hard to fall asleep though when you’ve just been handed an estate without having to lift a finger.

As she stands, sweaty skin glistening in the sunlight, I realise that everything about her is a pop of colour—the orange hair, the bright green outfit, and shiny lips the colour of strawberries. I’m so used to all the dark wood and shadowy mountains around here, it’s almost blinding.

“Butterflies are my good omen.”

“Good omen?” I wish I’d never asked. This sounds like some voodoo shit I don’t want to know about.

“Like a sign that good is coming. If I see a butterfly, it means I’m on the right path.” And I’m not even joking when I say a butterfly floats by at that very moment, making her beam.

I decide I no longer like butterflies. I don’t appreciate them encouraging her to think she should be here.

“Hold on one second,” Aurora says as she bends down to retrieve her phone that’s propped up on a small tripod.

I get a glimpse of another tattoo of several butterflies cascading along the back of her shoulder, similar to one I have of birds across mine. How many more of these little tattoos does she have hidden? I bet there’s another underneath those shorts somewhere.

“Sorry.” Aurora stands and her nails tap across her phone screen as she frowns. “I was just filming my yoga routine. Better make sure I cut you out of the end.”

I try to hold in a laugh. “Why the hell were you filming yourself?”

Her hazel eyes flick up to meet mine dubiously. There’s a little bit of fire dancing in the pale brown, something she quickly tries to quell with another smile pushing up her freckled cheeks.

“For my followers.” Aurora shrugs. Like it’s silly for me to not know that, making me feel like an old man.

“Right, is this part of your whole influencer thing?” I make quotation marks with my fingers when I say influencer, because I still don’t quite get how it’s a profession.

When Grace eventually confessed that she was ill and didn’t have long left, she’d assured me that the niece she was leaving her ranch to was capable and knew how to run a business. She even said she thought we’d get along well. I wonder if she’s laughing in her grave right now.

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