Page 9 of Last Chance for Her Rancher Boss

“So it’s a small place?” she asked. “This property?”

“Landwise, no, it’s quite a decent property, hence our interest in acquiring it.”

Hence? Who used the word hence? Were all office people like this?

“But,” continued Fiona, back on her sales pitch, “it’s currently run by just one person who is no longer able to keep up with the place. He’s been in contact to finally accept our offer.”

Yeah, Meg thought,I bet you’ve been hounding him for years.She couldn’t help feeling at least a little sorry for this rancher, whoever he was. She knew firsthand how persistentthese companies could be when there was a piece of land that they wanted.

“Okay. So where in Wyoming is it? North, south, central?”

“It’s quite remote. It looks like the nearest town is a place called Fordswell…”

Meg nearly choked. Going back to her home state was one thing; going back to a ranch outside her hometownwas another. Her knee-jerk response was to say never mind, she didn’t want it, no thank you. Then the sensible part of her brain that tended to sound like the voice of her mother chimed in. With the amount of money she earned, she could afford to quit and figure things out, but she’d really be pretty stupid to pass up on a job that was just being handed to her on a silver platter. Maybe it was all some sort of sign from the universe that she should brave going back home and conquer some of her demons or something. Maybe even visit her parents.Maybe.

Either way, spending some time on a smaller ranch, just ticking off a list and looking over a small herd… well, that sounded like exactly what she needed right now.

“You know what? That sounds great,” Meg said, biting the bullet. “I’m guessing you’ll have a bunch of paperwork for me?”

“I will email it straight to you,” Fiona said, sounding ten times more chipper all of a sudden.

The phone call was wrapped up with technicalities and contract talk. Despite the existential dread of moving back close to home after a decade of being away, there was a sense of relief that she really wouldn’t have to go back to working with Mitch. She wouldn’t even have to be in the same state as that idiot anymore. She was just going to work with some guy that wanted to sell his ranch.

So sure, moving back home hadn’t been on the top of her to-do list, but there was no way her new coworker could even be half as bad as what she was used to dealing with.

Right?

CHAPTER 3

NASH

It was a quiet morning, but it was almost always quiet on the ranch, so that was nothing different. Nash didn’t even have to think as he went about his morning routine. It was so ingrained in him these days that his body already knew what to do, like a well-oiled machine.

Dressed in jeans and a loose work shirt, he strode out of the house, the sun barely risen and the sky still half dark. The first task was to open the stable and let the horses out into the pasture for the day. Gadget trotted straight out of his stall, looking for adventure, while Nickel went at his own pace, as always. Tilly, who was round as a barrel from her pregnancy, stayed right where she was with a sour look on her face. Nash didn’t blame her one bit.

“Not much longer, girl,” he said, rubbing her nose. She snorted, disdainful, wanting her breakfast, and Nash didn’t blame her for that either. He dished out her pellets laced with the special vitamins and supplements to help her through her pregnancy. Not that he could really afford them, but the ranch seemed to be bleeding more money every day, so what was one more thinghe couldn’t afford? He’d eat nothing but potatoes for a month if it meant that Tilly was healthy. It wasn’t the horses’ fault that they’d ended up living here. Nash pushed thoughts about possible bankruptcy to the side and got on with his chores. Meanwhile Gadget and Nickel pranced around like it was the first time they’d ever seen grass. Nash was convinced that the two geldings shared one brain cell between them.

The horses taken care of, he jumped in the truck and made his way out to the eastern pasture to check on the cattle. There weren’t many to check these days. He only had a herd of about fifty left after selling off more and more of the animals for lower and lower prices, all just to try and make a dent in some of the bills. It had kept him afloat for long enough, but now even that lifeline was wearing thin. Wandering around the field, the sun now properly awake, they all seemed happy enough. They grazed and bellowed to each other, content. Their coats were shiny, their eyes bright. If you were to just look at the conditions of the animals, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the ranch was a success. But it took just one look at the bank statements to dash that assumption.

Usually, Nash would be on his way back to the house after checking on them, back to eat his own breakfast before heading out to chip away at all of the tasks that would need to get done that day. But right now he didn’t want to go back to the house, not just yet. He just needed to sit and think for a bit, to get his head straight.

As of today he would officially be giving up trying to do all of this on his own. It left him with a strange mix of feeling guilty and feeling immensely relieved. It came in waves, which of the feelings was stronger at any given time. This morning it wasdefinitely guilt, loud and proud, so strong that it made him feel slightly sick.

Nash sat on the hood of the truck, looking out over the pastures. There wasn’t another soul around, just him and the cattle. Every now and then, one of the animals would come up and sniff at him, begging for food like giant dogs, before wandering off again when Nash showed them empty hands. He might have had to sell off more than three-quarters of the herd, but what remained were probably the most spoiled cattle in all of Wyoming.

The morning sun warmed his face and neck, deepening the tan that covered him head to toe these days, his dark hair flopping over his eyes. He knew he was in desperate need of a haircut, but who had the time? The only part of him that refused to tan was the scar that ran through his eyebrow. It remained stubbornly silver, a permanent reminder of getting bucked off of Gadget and thrown face-first into a barbed wire fence. It made for a good story, at least.

Nash sat out there on the hood of his truck for longer than he should have. It was just sopretty; there was no other word for it. Not one he could think of right this second anyway. He never had been the scholarly sort. “Pretty” would just have to do. Luckily it was true. The grass was such a vivid green that it looked like it was made on a computer, not something from real life, and the sky was getting bluer every second. The fields stretched off for what felt like forever, rising into hills where the old farm buildings lay abandoned, overlooking everything. It must have been a beautiful view to wake up there each morning, but his uncle had rebuilt further north when he’d had an influx of cash. Apparently, the world’s best view wasn’t as good as more modern houses and barns on flatter land.

Thinking about past generations of ranchers had Nash’s guilt flaring again, stabbing him right in the gut. This ranch had been his uncle’s pride and joy, in the family for generations. He’d left it to Nash in his will, to take care of it and keep the legacy going. Well, he’d left it to Nashandhis brother, Will. But Will now lived in town with his wife and kid, working a stable job as a mechanic like a sensible person. Meanwhile, Nash had stayed here, desperate to keep the place going, to keep the ranch alive. His uncle had done it for decades on his own, and he’d been just fine. Nash had convinced himself he could do it, his unfortunate cocky streak taking over any rational business decisions.

But Nash had failed spectacularly, hadn’t he? He hadn’t felt cocky about his abilities in a very long time.

Nash rubbed his face with both hands, his stubble scratching against the calluses on his palms. He had done his best, but his best wasn’t good enough. Ever since he and Will had taken over, Uncle Keith barely in the ground, industrial farming companies had come swooping in like vultures, wanting to buy the land from under them. They were all suits and nice smiles, sending them mountains of emails and good old-fashioned letters full to the brim with a bunch of lawyer talk. Their most popular phrase was “ideal investment opportunity.” Nash kept telling them to get lost, and they would scurry away for a while. But soon enough they would come back with offers and emails, wanting to sweet talk him into selling up.

They’d won in the end, hadn’t they? You had to applaud their persistence, even if they were slimy, greedy little things. They had been patient enough to get their way in the end. It would have been easier, emotionally, at least, if it had been as simple as signing a piece of paper and handing the whole place over in one fell swoop. But that wasn’t how they did things these days,because of course it couldn’t just be as simple as that. Despite hounding him foryearsand trying to convince him to sell with every dirty trick in the book, now that Nash had officially reached out, the company wanted an evaluation. They wanted to know that what they were buying was actually worth all of this effort.

The whole thing was… humiliating. Maybe he was just letting his ego get in the way, but that was how it felt. Like he personally was getting investigated with a fine-tooth comb. Maybe it was because he’d poured his heart and soul into this place that it kind of was a personal evaluation. Either way, the sale wasn’t going to go ahead without someone on their books coming and personally inspecting every inch of the place. Supposedly it was some super fancy, large animal veterinarian who was also going to test everything from the fencing to the soil acidity. At first the woman on the phone, who clearly worked in an office and had no idea how rural areas actually worked, had said that this “expert” would be boarded in the nearest hotel. Nash had to explain to her that the nearest hotel was a good hour away, and there was an awkward silence after that. He’d told her the vet could board at the house. It would be easier, and he didn’t have the energy to even remotely put up a fight anymore. It wasn’t really a loss; he was never inside anyway, and he’d wrangled some free vet care out of them to boot.

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