Page 32 of Lost in the Reins

I glance at Wes, my reluctant teammate who's watching the proceedings with a quiet amusement that makes my stomach do Olympic-level gymnastics. "Any strategic advice?"

"Don't knock it over."

"Wow. Profound. Is that the kind of wisdom that comes from generations of ranching?"

His lips twitch. "Among other things."

The tower wobbles as I assess my options. Emma leans forward, practically vibrating with excitement. "Go for the middle one! The one that's kind of sideways!"

"The obviously load-bearing piece?" I eye the block in question. "Are you secretly working for the opposition?"

"She's definitely not biased," Colt says, sharing a conspiratorial wink with his niece. "Even if Jake did promise her ice cream if our team wins."

"Betrayal!" I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest. "And here I thought we had a special bond over bubble bath collections and complicated peacocks."

Emma giggles, the sound pure and bright in the firelit room. "Sorry! But Uncle Jake promised chocolate sprinkles!"

"My own principles can be bought with sprinkles," I admit, carefully testing a block near the bottom. "Though in Manhattan, we usually negotiate with overpriced lattes and questionable life choices."

"Speaking of Manhattan…" Jake settles back in his chair, clearly enjoying my struggles with structural integrity. "How does a city girl end up writing cowboy romance anyway?"

I catch Wes's knowing look from across the Jenga tower. He's heard this story before, that morning in his kitchen over cold coffee and ranch finances.

"Long story." The block shifts slightly.

"We've got time," Colt adds, genuinely curious. "Unless you're planning to knock that over soon."

"I'm creating suspense." I adjust my grip on the block, aware of Wes's quiet amusement. "I grew up in Atlanta, actually. Spent my teenage years reading every romance novel I could get my hands on, dreaming about places that weren't suburban Georgia."

"And you picked cowboys?" Colt sounds intrigued.

"More like they picked me." The block finally slides free, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I was working retail and absolutely hated it. Started a blog about my imaginary life on a ranch, complete with a fictional cowboy heir who was whisking me away from fluorescent lights and tissue paper hell."

Wes coughs something that sounds suspiciously like "sunrise yoga," and I shoot him a look that only makes his eyes dance with suppressed laughter.

"Let me guess," Jake grins. "It went viral?"

"Embarrassingly so." I hand the block to Wes, our fingers brushing in a way that definitely doesn't make my pulse jump. "People thought it was real. Started following my 'journey' to ranch life. When I finally admitted it was fiction, someone suggested I try writing romance novels."

"And the rest is history?" Emma asks, clearly invested in the story despite her sprinkle-based betrayal.

"More like the rest is irony." I watch Wes place our block with surgical precision. "Ten years writing about ranch life, and I'd never actually been on a working ranch until now. Talk about life imitating art."

"Would you ever leave Manhattan?" The question comes from Colt, casual as a lightning strike. "Now that you've experienced the real thing?"

The room goes quiet enough to hear the fire pop. I stare at the Jenga tower, suddenly unable to meet anyone's eyes, especially Wes's. "I..."

The room goes quiet enough to hear the fire pop. I stare at the Jenga tower, suddenly unable to meet anyone's eyes, especially Wes's. "I..."

That's when Emma’s cat, Trouble, lives up to his name, launching himself from his perch on the mantle directly onto the coffee table. The Jenga tower doesn't stand a chance. Wooden blocks scatter across the floor while he looks entirely too pleased with himself.

"And that's game!" Jake stands, stretching dramatically with a victorious grin. "Team Montgomery-Montgomery wins again. Looks like someone's getting ice cream tomorrow." He winks at Emma, who's already bouncing with excitement despite the mess of blocks around her feet.

"Last time I saw a crash that epic, it was Jake trying to impress that rodeo queen with his line dancing," Colt laughs, pushing up from his chair. "Come on, Romeo. Dawn comes early.”

Emma launches herself at her uncles, wrapping her arms around Jake's waist first. "Night, Uncle Jake! Don't forget about the ice cream!"

"As if you'd let me," Jake chuckles, ruffling her hair before she moves to Colt.

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