The grandfather clock ticked in the hallway. I looked at all the expensive clothes scattered on the floor and suddenly felt bad for getting excited about them.
Their mom had been gone for eight years, and they were still carrying the weight of her loss while trying to cope with the debt left behind.
Brock stayed facing the window, shoulders tense. Wren chewed her lip.
“No point dwelling on it today,” she said, trying to sound upbeat again. “We should celebrate. Brock gained a huge sponsor, and that’s because of you.”
My throat felt tight. “He earned it.”
“Yeah, but your videos got millions of views. Ryder wouldn’t have called without them.” She waved at the boxes. “This is your doing.”
Brock offered a low grunt.
“That was almost a thank you,” Wren said. “Try again.”
He turned back to the room, his blue eyes steady. “She’s not wrong.”
My heart thumped hard. I wanted to go over to him and touch him, but I stayed put. The urge to fix this, to do something that helped, rose fast and sharp.
“You need something that keeps bringing in money,” I said. “Not just a one-time payment.”
Brock narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean like… what if we set up an affiliate deal?”
He stared at me.
“I don’t know what that means,” he said.
“If people buy items through a link in one of our posts, you get a cut. It’s not much per sale, but the numbers can add up fast.”
“How do they even track that?”
“I'll take care of everything. You just wear the clothes and let me post. And I bet Ryder would love seeing the whole family in the videos. Your dad fixing fences wearing one of their jackets, Wren on horseback with the boots... People eat that stuff up.”
Wren snatched the suede coat from the sofa, her grin returning. “We could get paid to wear this stuff? I’m in.”
“Are we all driving to Douglas tomorrow for the rodeo?” I asked.
Brock nodded. “We leave around four.”
“Perfect. We can pack the gear and shoot some stuff on the way. I’ll email Ryder tonight and?—”
The frantic scrabble of dog nails against the hardwood interrupted me. Moose bounded into the living room, nose twitching. He ignored the tissue paper and went straight for the expensive ostrich boot, clamping his jaws onto the leather toe.
Wren scrambled over the boxes. “Moose, drop it!”
Moose thought this was a phenomenal game. He dodged her easily, kicked up a pile of shirts, and bolted for the hallway.
“Hey!” Colt shouted from the other room.
There was a scuffle, a loud thud, and some swearing. Colt limped back in holding the slobbery boot between two fingers.
He looked at the explosion of clothes all over the living room and then at the three of us.
“What the hell is all this?” he asked.
“New sponsor stuff,” I said, trying not to laugh. “We’re shooting promo videos on the drive to Douglas tomorrow. You’re our newest model.”
