Page 43 of Wild As Her

Farmers, ranchers, tourists, and even a couple of old-timers who usually grumble about anything new in town. They’re all here, sipping coffee, eating pastries, and talking.

The Jessop Ranch hasn’t seen this many visitors in years. And damn it, she brought this here.

I roll my jaw, giving her a look. “I’ll admit it’s pretty amazing. Thank you.”

Cami gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh my God. Did you just thank me?”

“I did," I admit with a grin. At this point, I don't even have any crap to give her. She's worked damn miracles just beinghere today for just one day. We've had so much positive interaction with the town today that this has been a godsend. I know a miracle when I see one.

She laughs, shaking her head before grabbing another cup to fill. The sound of her laugh settles somewhere deep in my chest.

Tucker leans back in his chair, grinning. “So, Cami, you gonna be here full-time now?”

She glances at me, her expression unreadable. “Still thinking about it.”

But I know that look. She’s staying.

Chapter 12

Cami

Pretty Little Poison by Warren Zeiders

When I see my mother's car pull up at Wilder Ranch again, I groan and roll my eyes, not sure what she could possibly want this time.

She steps out, looking around like the very land that her family has owned for generations that she stands on offends her, arms crossed over her scrub top, and sighs in great disappointment like she’s about to deliver me another lecture.

"Oh, Cami," she says, her voice already sharp with disapproval as she slams the car door shut. "Ollie says I owe you an apology. I guess I should apologize."

I exhale, gripping the reins of my horse, Mouse in my hands and say dryly, “Nice apology, Mom.”

I stopped trying to get her approval when I was in high school. And I definitely stopped taking her crap here recently.

She walks up, surveying the now mostly empty ranch, and then she gives me that look—then says, "You’re really doingthis?” she asks, gesturing vaguely. “Still playing pretend out here with the Jessops?”

I stiffen. “It’s not pretend, Mom. This is our family's home.”

She lets out a dramatic sigh, stepping closer. “Cami, honey. You’re working yourself to death on a ranch we don’t even own. Cut your losses. Get out of here. Do something real with your life. Your brother has a real job. I don't know why you don't at least try.”

A real job. Wow. A low blow, even for her. As I watch her, she really believes this.

The words hit way too hard, although I’ve heard some version of them my entire life.

I turn to her, crossing my arms. “I am doing something with my life. And I do have a real job.”

Mom lifts a skeptical brow. She's either heading to work or coming off a shift at the hospital, where she works as a nurse. When she left the ranch and moved to town last year and let the ranch go, we stopped talking as much. Not that we’ve ever been close, but lately it’s been downright contentious. She doesn’t even try to hide her disappointment.

I feel my frustration boil over. “You wouldn’t know that, though, would you? Because you’ve never even come to get coffee from my trailer. Not once.”

A beat of silence.

And then she shrugs and looks away like I don’t matter. And that’s it. I’m done. That hurts. I don’t argue. I don’t try to convince her that the business that I’ve built is amazing. I just let her stand there in her judgment while I turn on my heel, throw my leg over my horse, and ride off into the pasture.

I leave her standing there in the driveway in front of the barn, and I don't care. I know we haven't seen eye to eye for a long time. Probably most of my life. I've always been closer to my grandparents, and when we lost them, things got really badbetween my mom and my dad. That's when he tried to take over the ranch, and he ran it into the ground. He was selling off the ranch's equipment, embezzling money, and draining the bank accounts.

But for me, it has always run deeper. I love this place deep in my soul, and it's the only place I've ever truly felt peace. While riding in these pastures, I keep up with my grandmother's garden behind our house. It's gotten smaller in recent years, but I still keep it going.

The sun is just starting to dip below the mountains, stretching golden light across the fields, casting long shadows over the land I know better than my own reflection.

---