Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“This way.” He jerked a thumb toward the back of the barn, leaving me to collect my duster. I followed his path, dodging machinery and watching my footing. Grayson was far more nimble for a bigger, older man, especially given his subtle limp. “I was looking for you anyway.”
“Looking for me?” I stopped short of stepping on a nearby rake, rocking back on my heels.
“You’re the ranch owner, right?” Grayson narrowed his stern gaze further. “The trust is paying the bills, and you can’t sell, but I figured you’d want to at least know about the business, weigh in.”
Appropriately humbled, I nodded. “Yes, of course.”
In actuality, I preferred the ranch stay a vague, theoretical enterprise where Grayson made all the decisions, but that was neither fair nor responsible. Damn it.
“First off, we’re down two hands. Not surprising that they put in elsewhere, thinking the ranch would be sold.” Grayson dug a small, paint-stained ladder out of a stall but didn’t hand it over. “I’ll put the word out, but honestly, we’ve been making do with too few hands for a while now. Retention wasn’t your dad’s strong suit.”
“I imagine not.” I sucked on my lower lip, sensing Grayson was looking for something more than commiseration. “I… We’ll need to ask the lawyers about the budget, but I trust your hiring decisions.”
“Good.” He gave a crisp nod before passing me the ladder. “Next, offers keep rolling in for the breeding stock—our biggest competitors smell blood in the water and are circling with lowball offers. I’m inclined to say we’re not selling off stock, business as usual. Wanted to run it by you though, in case you had a different thought.”
“No. Your thought is good.” Different industry, but I knew all about sharks looking to buy low and gobble up competition. “No need to devalue the market or sell just to sell. Are our current stud fees in line with others?”
“They could go up.” He pursed his lips, something approaching respect in his gaze.
“Do that.” I swallowed, immediately second-guessing whether I’d been decisive merely to earn more of Grayson’s approval. What did I truly know about horse breeding or running a ranch? “I think. Should I ask Faith?”
“Faith told me to ask you.” He yanked a red bandanna out of his pocket and wiped his forehead with it. “Keep to the quick answers. Trust your gut.”
“My gut has no idea what it’s doing,” I confessed as I followed him back through the barn. I’d gotten far in the hotel industry by learning the difference between when I could bullshit my way through and when I needed to admit ignorance. Here, though, I felt out of my depth entirely, my head swimmy from more than the June heat.
Grayson paused again near the cracked barn doors. “Sometimes, you just gotta head into the muck and start shoveling.”
“True.” I operated with a similar philosophy, and that attitude made it possible to plow through the work in Hannah’s room without getting lost in sentiment. “But what if I tell you the wrong thing? A lot more is riding on the ranch than my usual decisions regarding decor or hospitality services.”
“You’ll fuck up.” Grayson shrugged like he’d already accepted this conclusion. “Part of being the boss is being wrong. You know that.”
“Yeah.” I exhaled hard. I needed to make peace with being wrong, but I kept seeing my father’s frown. Melvin Lovelorn didn’t make mistakes, didn’t muddle through. Thanks, Dad, for the crippling case of perfectionism.
In the present, though, I addressed Grayson. “Thanks. For the ladder. And the pep talk.”
“No problem.” He gestured toward the horse barn. “Bring Hannah around the horse barn later. I’ll give her and you a tour of everything new.”
He’d phrased it as a casual suggestion, but I knew an order when I heard one. Grayson was determined to make a functional ranch owner out of me, which meant knowing the ranch’s operations. As I walked back to the ranch house, I couldn’t help but think of Colt, wondering if that was what he wanted too. And lord, that way led to all sorts of trouble. I couldn’t let myself care what Colt thought or want to make him proud. The goal was to survive the year, not lose myself to the past.
Chapter 8
Maverick
Then: Prom, Senior Year
“Thanks for the ride, Maverick.” Lulu gazed up at me with expectant eyes. Her porch light winked at us, maybe twenty paces away, but it might as well be Disappointment Canyon between here and there. I’d gotten out to open her door because that was the gentlemanly thing to do.
“No problem.” I nodded curtly, not meeting those big brown eyes. She’d looked at me plenty during dinner and dancing. I’d tried to only do the fast songs with her and Betsey, but Lulu had trapped me for two slow songs and keeping a respectful distance had been an endeavor.