Page 9 of Balancing Act

Walker chuckled and patted one of the horses affectionately. “Just think of it as an opportunity to show them what this place is made of.”

“Or a complete waste of my time.”

He gave me a knowing smile and walked over to one of the saddled horses. “Come on, Gray. It's not every day that you get to play tour guide for a famous influencer and her entourage. This might be your chance to show them the real Whittier Falls.”

I scowled at him, shaking my head. “I don't need any chances, Walker. I'm perfectly fine just running the ranch and staying away from all this social media crap.”

Mason chimed in, his voice laced with amusement. “Oh, come on, Gray. They’re guests here. Be hospitable for once. Plus, you can't deny that it's intriguing.”

“And if even one of them posts about the ranch, I guarantee we'd have a ton of new interest.”

“Walker—“

“I could finally open up the riding school. And a whole tourism segment.”

I threw up a hand and shook my head. “Don't go there. Not right now. We've talked about this.”

Walker rolled his eyes and leaned back against the fence. “Of course not, you'll never let me talk about it.” And it was true. I couldn't deny that. But he knew why.

My baby brother could be counted on for a good time and not much else. He kept talking a big game about what he wanted to do with the ranch, but I hadn't ever seen him take action on anything once in his life. Show up to work (usually) on time and do what needed to be done? Sure. But take an idea and execute it without getting bored and losing interest? Never. And Red Downs was not something I was willing to play with.

“Ah, let's move this inside, boys,” Mason said, slapping my back a little harder than necessary. Probably trying to knock some sense into me. I'd spent the better part of our adult lives lecturing Walker on getting his shit together. It was old now.

We settled in my office for our weekly meeting and an hour later, I was ready to pull my hair out. I'd been wanting to discuss buying the Culver land, which Mason damn well knew, so he'd been running the longest agenda of bullshit I'd ever heard of, including his plan to switch nail suppliers. Apparently we could save twenty cents a box going with the local hardware store.

“Mase, I can't begin to tell you how much I don't give a shit.”

“You're griping about the numbers, I'm just bringing you an update.”

“Fine.” I threw my hands up. “What's next?”

“Ahh . . .” he looked down at his list. “We need a new farrier.”

“What happened to Jamie?”

“Got a full time gig over in Jackson.”

“Fuck. The horses really loved him. Okay. Let's set up some interviews.”

“On it.”

Mason's cell phone rang and he got the intense look on his face I knew meant something involving Abby. I nodded at him, indicating he should take the call. He rose and answered, stepping outside the office door to speak in hushed tones.

While we waited for him to return, my mind drifted back to the encounter at the diner. I refused to waste a whole day playing tour guide, even if Mason had thought it was the best damn idea he'd heard in ages. I planned to come up with a way out. Maybe get Walk to do it instead. He liked that kind of shit.

Mason returned, sitting down again.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Abby just got sick at school, but my Ma's getting her.”

“You know you can go if you need to.”

“I know. It's fine, she's probably just a little dehydrated.”

I studied him. Abby was Mason's number one priority. But the ranch was a close second, and I hated that he might be choosing that right now out of . . . stress? Obligation? Mason cracked his neck to the side. Something was up with him, but I'd be stupid to try to get him to talk about it here and now. So I moved on.

“I think we should buy the Culver property.”

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