This is the part I haven't entirely figured out yet. "I'd need to be on-site regularly. At least initially. I can't make informed decisions about the ranch without understanding how it operates day-to-day. So... yes. I'd probably need to stay here, at least part-time for the first few months."
"Stay here," Wade says flatly. "On the ranch."
"We have the guest house," Rhett interjects quickly. "It's been empty since Frank died. Sierra could use that as a base. It's small but functional."
"This isn't a resort," Wade continues like Rhett hasn't spoken. "We don't have time to babysit a tourist who wants to play rancher for Instagram photos."
Heat floods my face. "I don't have Instagram. And I'm not asking to be babysat. I'm asking to learn. There's a difference."
"Is there?" He pushes off from the fireplace, taking a step closer. "Because in my experience, people who 'want to learn' usually mean they want to watch other people work while they take notes for their business case study or whatever. We don't have time for that. We're barely keeping our heads above water as it is."
"Wade," Tucker says, a warning in his voice.
"No, he's right to be skeptical," I say, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice. "You don't know me. For all you know, I'm exactly what he thinks. Some spoiled rich girl who'll get bored and bail the moment things get hard. All I can offer is my word that I'm serious about this. And my money, which I know you need."
The silence that follows is excruciating. Wade stares at me, those brown eyes hard and assessing. I stare back, refusing to look away first even though my instinct is to shrink under that gaze.
"Why don't we show Sierra around the property," Tucker finally says, standing. "Let her see the operation, ask questions, get a feel for the place. Then we can reconvene and talk specifics about the investment terms."
Everyone seems to agree this is reasonable except Wade, who looks like he'd rather shove me back in my rental car and watch me drive away.
"Mason, why don't you start with the barn and stables," Tucker suggests. "Boone, you can cover the pastures and herd. Wade—"
"I need to check the east fence," Wade interrupts. "Colt can help."
"The fence can wait an hour." Tucker's voice is gentle but firm. "You know what? Wade, you should take Sierra through the main operations. You know this ranch better than anyone."
For a moment, I think Wade might actually refuse. His jaw works, hands flexing at his sides. Then he gives a sharp nod.
"Fine. Come on." He doesn't wait to see if I follow, just heads for the door.
I glance at Tucker, who gives me an apologetic look, then hurry after Wade's retreating form.
This is going great. Just spectacularly well.
Wade's already outside by the time I catch up, his long strides eating up ground toward the barn. I have to practically jog to keep pace.
"So," I say, slightly breathless. "How long have you been working at Promise Ranch?"
"Twenty-three years."
"Wow. That's—"
"Frank took me in when I was sixteen. Gave me a job, a place to stay, a purpose. This ranch is everything to me." He doesn't slow down, doesn't look at me. "Just so we're clear on what's at stake."
The implication is obvious: *Don't screw this up.*
We reach the barn, and Wade pulls open the large sliding door. The smell of hay and horses washes over me, earthy and strong. It's not unpleasant, just different from anything I'm used to.
"This is where we keep the horses," Wade says, his tone suggesting he's explaining something to a particularly slow child. "We've got fifteen total. Working horses, mostly quarter horses. That's Ranger." He nods toward a stall where a brown horse watches us. "He's mine."
I approach the stall slowly. "He's beautiful. Can I...?"
"Don't get too close if you don't know what you're doing. He's gentle, but he's still twelve hundred pounds of animal."
I stop, stung. "I wasn't going to do anything stupid."
"Didn't say you were. Just stating facts." Wade moves down the line of stalls, pointing at horses and rattling off names and details. "We use them for herding, checking fence lines, reaching parts of the property vehicles can't access. In the winter, they're essential."
