Page 80 of Lost in the Reins

Wes sighs. “Noted.”

She disappears inside, and the second the door swings shut, Wes turns back to me, arms still crossed. “A movie, Paisley?”

I shift on my feet. “I know it’s a lot. And I know you hate this kind of thing, but?—”

“Hate is a strong word,” he grumbles.

I arch a brow. “Is it?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, staring at the horizon like it might hold the answer he’s looking for. Finally, he mutters, “If one of them so much as suggests turning my barn into a dressing room, I’m tossing them into the cow pond.”

I grin. “Deal.”

Chapter Thirty- Four

Wes

My living room's never felt smaller than it does with two Hollywood producers perched on Sarah's old couch like exotic birds that took a wrong turn in Manhattan. I stand by the window, arms crossed, watching Grant Something-or-Other—tall, slick, and way too enthusiastic for a man in a blazer on a working ranch—gesture wildly, like we’re on some game show. “We’re talking huge exposure. The movie’s already generating buzz, and fans love to visit real-life locations from their favorite films.”

The shorter one, a woman named Dana, nods like this is the best idea since fences. “We’d be offering a very generous location fee, but beyond that, we’d also handle renovations. Fix up the barn, upgrade fencing, update plumbing where needed?—”

Jake, standing beside me with his arms crossed, scoffs. “Now, hold on. You think you’re just gonna roll in here and start ‘upgrading’ our ranch?”

Grant’s smile doesn’t waver. “With your approval, of course.”

Colt, who’s way too entertained by all this, leans back in his chair, boots propped up on the coffee table like he’s watching a rodeo. “You’re telling me you wanna pay us and fix the place up? No strings attached?”

Dana waves a perfectly manicured hand. “The only ‘string’ is that we’d love to keep part of the ranch open for tours after filming wraps. It’s standard in the industry—people want to walk where their favorite scenes were filmed, take pictures, buy a little merch. Think of it like…Yellowstone, but with a gift shop.”

Jake makes a disgusted sound. “That’s the worst sentence I’ve ever heard.”

And just like I knew she would, Paisley lights up like Christmas morning. “See? Told you!” she says, looking way too pleased with herself. “People eat this stuff up.”

I shoot her a look. “Youeat this stuff up.”

She shrugs unapologetically. “And so do millions of other people. Don’t underestimate the power of a well-run tourism business.”

I sigh, reminding myself I actually like her most days.

Grant claps his hands together. “So! We renovate, we film, we leave you with a fixed-up ranch and a new revenue stream. And to top it all off…” He gives me a pointed look. “We’d love to feature you in some interviews and promotional material. The real cowboy who inspired the story.”

Colt lets out an actual bark of laughter. “Oh, this just got good.”

Jake grins. “Yeah, Wes. You always did want to be a movie star.”

I glare at both of them before turning back to the producers. “I’m not the guy from her book.”

Dana tilts her head, studying me. “You sure? Because from what I read, the rugged, brooding, grumpy rancher with a secret heart of gold is very on brand for you.”

Paisley coughs into her hand, definitely covering a laugh.

I exhale sharply, trying to hold on +to the last shred of patience I have. “Look, I get that this is a good deal on paper. But this ranch isn’t a theme park. We work hard to keep it running,and I’m not interested in it becoming some kind of tourist attraction.”

Dana and Grant exchange a look before Grant leans in, voice smooth. “Wes, I hear you. And I respect that. But just imagine—for a second—that instead of fighting to keep this place afloat, you let it work for you. A little extra income, a little less stress. Maybe even some time to enjoy life instead of constantly fixing what’s broken.”

The room goes quiet.

I feel Jake and Colt watching me. They know how hard it’s been to keep this place going. How I’ve barely slept in years trying to make ends meet to keep this land from slipping out from under us.

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