Page 1 of Last Chance for Her Rancher Boss

CHAPTER 1

MEG

Meg’s schedule ran like clockwork, though that schedule was mostly out of her control, either planned out by teachers or her parents. Mostly her parents. Mostly her mother. Her dad as well, but yeah, her mom had the biggest say in how her days ran. But at night, Meg was finally free. Her parents were always asleep by eleven at the latest, and a nuclear bomb could go off next door and they wouldn’t even stir. It made sneaking out almost too easy. Honestly she could just walk straight out the front door, but climbing backwards out the window was way more fun. And she needed all the fun she could get right now.

After shimmying out the window, which was made a little less exciting because it was on the first floor, she set off on her usual route. Walking the streets of Fordswell, alone and in the dark, refreshed her inside and out. The cool breeze tugged at her auburn ponytail as she strode along the sidewalk to Nash’s house. Fordswell was a small town, and without any street lights out in the suburbs, not on the edges where she lived anyway, it was so dark out that she couldn’t even see the freckles that covered every inch of her skin. On the nights when the moon wasshining, everything would be painted in monochrome, glowing silver. She felt like a ghost, like she was invisible, and it was a delicious feeling. It made her feel free.

Nash’s house was only a few blocks away, and she knew the way by heart. Walking there in the dark was no problem; she could have walked there with her eyes closed. She knew how to open his garden gate so that the hinges didn’t squeak, and she knew exactly how many steps it was to the base of the tree that took up most of the yard. Twelve. There were nine rungs on the rope ladder that led up to the treehouse, where they met at least a few times a week. Meg had climbed the ladder so many times that the wobbling and swaying of it hadn’t frightened her in years. She climbed, muscle memory taking over, towards the faint orange glow that was leaking from the treehouse.

Nash was in there, ready and waiting, keeping himself occupied with one of his handheld video games. He looked like a giant crammed into the little tree house, his dark hair in his eyes and his long limbs all tangled up. But as soon as Meg’s head popped through the hole in the floor, he set the game aside with a grin.

“You look like a gopher,” he said.

“You say that, like, every time,” she puffed, crawling over.

“It’s true every time.”

Meg tutted and pulled herself into the cramped space. The treehouse had been made for Nash and his brother when they were little, designed for children’s dimensions. It wasn’t exactly made with two lanky teenagers and all their limbs in mind. Meg tucked herself into her usual corner while Nash leaned against the opposite wall, knees pulled up to his chest to give her space to sit.

They’d been friends for years, gravitating towards each other in middle school. At first it had been a friendship of convenience, of solidarity, the sort made in schools and workplaces all over the place. They weren’t exactly social outcasts, not really. But it wasn’t like people flocked to be either of their friends. Meg was the studious, A-grade student, forever with her nose in a book or practicing test papers in the library. She was the one with the strict parents and no room for a social life, even if anyone was interested in being her friend. Nash was the class clown, the guy who didn’t take anything seriously. He mostly bummed around during class and shrugged when anyone asked him anything about his plans for the future. Apparently having way too much focus on the future was just as unappealing in a friendship as having none at all.

So they’d started sitting next to each other in class. They paired up as partners when needed and joined forces for group projects. Meg was able to take control of the assignments, bowing to the immense pressure her parents put on her to be a straight-A student, and Nash would do as she asked, going with the flow as always, benefiting from the grades that he shared with her. In return he was a beacon of light in Meg’s life. He made her laugh one minute and reminded her to breathe the next. He was a normal friend, a taste of life outside of studying and grades and college applications. He was the best thing in her life.

So the friendship might have started out because they just happened to be in the same classroom, but now, right at the tail end of senior year, Meg couldn’t imagine her life without Nash in it. And they were just friends. That was all. She definitely didn’t have a crush on him. Nope. Not one bit. And she was going to keep telling herself that; she needed Nash’s friendship way too much to throw it away attempting to transform it into anything else.

Besides, she wasn’t here to think about stupid feelings that probably weren’t even real in the first place. Meg was here because she was desperate to talk and for someone to actuallylisten.

“She’s driving me insane.” Meg sighed, launching straight into what she needed to say. “They both are.”

Nash gave her a sympathetic half-smile. He didn’t need any context. He knew very well how overbearing her parents were. “It’s almost over. Just a few more weeks and high school is done forever.”

“Yeah, and then college begins,” she said, rubbing her temples like someone two decades older.

“Yeah.And it will be totally different than high school. You’ll only be studying vet stuff. So you’ll be loving every minute of it.”

“I just wish these stupid applications would come back already,” Meg said, not really caring about how whiny she sounded. Talking with Nash was the only time she was able to sound whiny and get away with it. And even then, Nash had said to her on multiple occasions that she wasn’t being whiny at all. She was just expressing her feelings, like how people were supposed to.

“You’ll get into all of them,” Nash said confidently as if it were that simple. Her parents seemed to think the same thing — a rare moment for them to have the same opinion as Nash.

At least she hadn’t had to fight her parents onwhatshe wanted to study, just so long as she studied as hard as physically possible. Veterinary medicine was an acceptable career path. At the end of the day, it was still medicine,and it still paid well. Meg was just grateful she’d never had the desire to be an artist or amusician. Her life now might be difficult, but if she’d been born with a creative streak, it would have been impossible.

“You’re lucky,” she said, aware that she was still definitely sulking and not caring one bit. Nash shrugged again, not a care in the world. “What’s it like to have no expectations heaped on you from birth?”

“Can you seriously imaginemein college?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She scrunched her face as she thought about his question. “Maybe not in any actual classes, but hanging around the campus? Sure. There are parties at college, aren’t there? I can imagine you at those.”

“Very funny.”

“If I go to Texas, you could come in my suitcase or something. Live under my bed.”

“Yeah. That’ll be comfy,” he drawled. “You can sneak me pizza and soda. I’ll be like the dorm room pet. That definitely won’t get either of us arrested or anything.”

He chuckled, amused. Meg managed a small smile.

“I could just go to the local college,” she said, floating the idea out loud. She’d been wanting more and more to just stay here if she was able to but hadn’t actually said anything about it to anyone until right this second.

But Nash frowned. “You’re too good for the local college. If you get into the one in Texas, then you should take that one.”

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