Page 79 of Lost in the Reins

“Wes.” I step closer, tilting my head. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose your home? Because that’s the alternative here.”

That lands. I see it in the way his shoulders tense, the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. He knows he’s running out of options.

I press my advantage. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. I know the thought of cameras and actors makes you want to crawl into the nearest horse stall and hide. But this is the best deal you’re gonna get. No strings, no compromises, just enough money to make your problems disappear—without selling a single acre.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers tightening around the coffee mug like it holds all the answers.

Then, finally, “When does this producer get here?”

I grin. “Oh, you know. Soon. Very soon.”

“How soon?”

“Like… this afternoon soon.”

Wes chokes on his coffee. “Paisley.”

“Surprise?” I offer weakly.

He groans, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like a prayer for patience.

Wes drags a hand down his face like he’s aged ten years in the last ten seconds. “Let me get this straight. Some Hollywood hotshot is flying in today to talk about turning my family’s ranch into a film set?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Yep! And they’re bringing a ridiculous amount of money.”

He looks at me. Then at his coffee. Then back at me, like he’s debating whether to drink more or just throw the whole mug into the yard. “And when exactly were you planning to tell me this?”

I bite my lip. “Right now? Which, if you think about it, is actually perfect timing because now you have a whole”—I glance at my watch—“five hours to mentally prepare.”

“Five hours.” His voice is flat.

“Give or take! Could be four. Maybe three. Planes are unpredictable.”

Wes makes a noise that sounds like a mix between a groan and a growl, muttering something under his breath about city women and their harebrained schemes.

Before he can start listing all the reasons this is a terrible idea, the screen door swings open, and Emma comes barreling onto the porch like a human missile.

“Paisley!” She slams into me with the force of a small linebacker, nearly knocking me off my feet. “I knew you’d come back!”

I squeeze her tight, my heart catching in my throat. “Of course, I did, kiddo. Did you really think I’d miss out on all the chaos?”

She leans back, grinning. “Uncle Wes said you might get tired of ranch life and stay in New York forever, but I told him he was dumb.”

Wes pinches the bridge of his nose. “I did not say that.”

Emma ignores him entirely, already launching into updates about life on the ranch, the animals, and the latest drama with the peacock. She barely pauses for breath before asking, “Did you bring me anything from New York?”

I grin and pull a small bag from my pocket. “One fancy city chocolate bar, because I figured you’d appreciate something sweet.”

Emma gasps. “The good kind?”

“The ridiculously overpriced kind.”

She takes it with reverence, then immediately starts unwrapping it. “You do belong in this family.”

Wes clears his throat, crossing his arms. “Emma, why don’t you go inside and tell Uncle Jake Paisley’s here? I need to talk to her for a minute.”

Emma pauses, clearly sensing something is up, but shrugs. “Okay. But if you make her leave again, I’m poisoning your coffee.”

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