Page 3 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

Literally jumped. Because my legs weren’t nearly long enough to step into the behemoth in a ladylike manner.

I’d thought about installing a running board, but that implied weakness, and Texans didn’t do weak.

The road from my house to the highway was as familiar to me as my own hands. I’d started driving it when I was twelve, but just with farm equipment. Since then, I’d learn to operate everything we owned that had wheels.

Lance bounced around as I attempted to dodge the winter potholes, and I vowed to scrape the dirt road soon. Oak trees slid by on my right, while wide open fields—dotted by fluffy white sheep in one pasture and a handful of horses in the other—filled the windows to my left. By the time I got to the end of the property, complete with a large wooden arch and a rusted sign that said “Shaw-king Ranch,” I could see the rocky rise the nearby town had been named for. White stone peeked out from under the wild grass that was just beginning to sprout.

That was the direction I was hoping to expand in. The family who owned the land hadn’t lived here in a decade, and as far as I knew, they weren’t planning to return.

If I could get a loan, then I could start moving forward.

By the time I got my parts ordered at the tractor store, my food, which I’d called in, was ready at Whitehill BBQ. I had just enough time to traverse through town to the park and get out of my truck before my phone buzzed to life.

I got my drink and my bag situated in one hand and answered the phone with the other one. “Hey, darlin’.” I grinned at Victoria’s smiling face.

“Hi!” The view shifted to show Rachel sitting next to Victoria. The two of them lived in the same small town in Alaska. Rachel was a native, while Victoria had been lured there by the love of her life.

“Where are you?” Victoria asked.

“At the park.” I turned the phone so they could see the ball diamond, playground, splash pad, trees, and benches. As I did so, I noticed a large black SUV pulling out of the parking lot on the other side of the field. The kind the government used. Or drug dealers.

“You’re not on the ranch?” Rachel asked.

“I had to come into town to order some parts.” I waggled my food bag in front of the camera. “Plus, I’ve been craving BBQ.”

The girls laughed, and suddenly another person popped into the conversation. Nanette’s dark skin contrasted the white wall she was sitting in front of. Her movie star husband wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Before I could say hello, Ashley and then Jessica came on. They were together at Jessica’s place in New Jersey. Ashley had been on a competition show for glass blowing and had won! We were all prouder than pudding of her.

Teresa was the last one to join the call, and I could tell she was in her music room because there was a line of brass instruments behind her, including an antique tuba that she’d picked up not long ago.

Over the past few years, these women had become my lifeline. Except for Teresa, we’d met in an online weight loss group. We’d become fast friends and had decided to stay in touch after everyone had left the program.

Teresa had been Nanette’s roommate at the time, and we’d quickly adopted her into our Curvy Girl Crew, even though she had exactly three percent body fat on her.

The seven of us had decided to buy and open abandoned storage units as a group. Our YouTube channel had been successful, with many of our videos garnering millions of views.

However, it had been proving difficult to get everyone together to open units, even if most of us were online instead of in-person, so we were here to discuss what we wanted to do going forward.

“Did everyone read my email?” Jessica asked. She was the project manager of the group.

We all nodded.

I settled on a bench, arranged my food, put my earbuds in, and pulled my hood up over my head to keep the breeze off my neck.

Jessica spoke. “Our numbers are down a little, and from the research I did, I think we need to switch things up if we want to stay relevant.” Jessica pressed her lips together. “Assuming we want to keep the channel going.”

Her email had said as much, but hearing it out loud made my stomach twist. I’d miss these gals something fierce if we stopped opening storage units together.

“Thoughts?” Jessica asked.

For a moment no one spoke. None of the Crew were shy, so that wasn’t the problem. Did some of them want to quit? Were they afraid to say so?

I took a bite of my burnt ends to stall. Everyone but Jessica and me were either engaged or newly married. I was about to inherit a ranch that would likely keep me busy for twelve hours a day. Jessica worked a demanding job that sometimes filled more than sixty hours of her week.

What if it was time to retire our channel?

The thought made swallowing hard.

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