Ready to Rumble
LAINEY
Six two.
Stetson.
Stormy, gray-green eyes that hint at hidden depths.
Colt—sorry, Colton—Wallace would be the total cowboy package. If he wasn’t a total and complete dickhead.
I can’t tell if he’s serious or not as he yanks open the office door and looks at me expectantly. The warm October air fills the office with the earthy smells of hay and, well, horses I’m assuming. This is the first time I’ve been on a ranch, so I’m just kind of guessing at this point.
I also can’t help but notice the steady way the man moves. One hand grips the knob. The other is on his hip. No fidgeting. No nerves.
This man—this cowboy—is clearly made of solid stuff. And that makes the room suddenly feel several degrees too hot.
“Son.” The timbre of Dale’s voice changes. It’s not louder, but it is firmer. The tone of voice my dad uses when he means business.
Colton narrows his eyes into a half squint, half glare that’s…actually kind of hot. It’s giving Clint Eastwood vibes. “Yes?”
“That’s not the hospitality our family is known for. Shut the door.”
“But, Dad—”
“Shut the door, Colt.”
Colton looks every inch the petulant teenager when he does as his father tells him and pushes the door shut. “Can I have a word with you, Dad?”
“We can talk all you like, but I’ve made my decision. Lainey stays—she requested six weeks to finish the job—and we move forward with the rebrand. It’s the right call for our business.”
Colton’s squint deepens. “Six weeks?”
“Good work takes time,” I shoot back. “But surely you know that. I’ll present my ideas to y’all sometime around week four or five, and then I’ll build out the website with the logo and design we agree on.”
When Dale offered me room and board for as long as I wanted, I made the quick decision to take him up on his offer. Not only does it allow me to sublet my apartment for the month in Austin for some much-needed cash, but it also (hopefully) gives me the time and space I need to figure out my shit.
“I’m not even sure I know what ‘rebrand’ means,” Colton says.
Clearing my throat, I gear up for proverbial battle. “It means capturing everything that’s exceptional about your business in a new look that people immediately recognize and associate with your top-notch operation. It’s giving y’all an identity, basically, that will help you stand out.”
“We already know who we are,” Colton replies evenly. “No need for you to tell us. And we already stand out in all the ways that matter.”
“That’s great.” I force a smile. “It will make my job a hell of a lot easier. What I do is consolidate that into a logo, website, and overall vibe—”
“Vibe?” He scoffs, turning his head to face his dad. “Are you hearing this?”
Dale lifts a shoulder. “I like to boogie.”
“What? That—ugh.” Colton drops his head and runs a hand over his nape. “That has nothing to do with the vibe she’s talking about. We’re known for our consistency. Our commitment to quality and to a job well done. That is our brand. Not some fancy-ass vibe.”
He glances at me, and I resist the urge to shiver. There’s a coldness to this cowboy. At the same time, I feel my face flushing with more heat.
It’s a mindfuck.
The unfortunate fact of the matter is that this man is handsome. We’re talking chiseled jaw, one that’s covered in just the right amount of scruff. Full mouth. Deeply tanned skin, with a constellation of freckles sprinkled over his straight nose and wind-burned cheeks.
He’s also cut. His broad shoulders and arms fill out his green plaid button-up to perfection. When he puts his hands back on his narrow hips, I notice just how well those Wranglers mold to his ass and thighs.
Also also. His hands. Colton’s are huge, with thick fingers that flirt with the edges of the scuffed-up belt he’s wearing. How different from the thin, clammy, lily-white hands of Randolph III.
He doesn’t fidget. Doesn’t so much as blink as he looks at me and looks.
It’s unnerving.
It makes me angry. I woke up at the ass crack of dawn to drive the three hours from Fort Worth, and this is how my kinda-sorta second boss treats me?
“I’m not here to erase your legacy,” I reply evenly, despite the hammering of my heart. “I’m here to share it with the world so that more people can appreciate the quality of work y’all do on the ranch.”
This is not the first time I’ve had to defend my profession. People don’t appreciate good branding until they see it. Then it’s a total ah, now I get it moment, when the message and the visuals and the mission all come together in one beautiful, intelligent package.
Before I chatted with Dale on the phone late last week, I googled the ranch. It didn’t take me long to go through the results, seeing as the ranch doesn’t have a website or any social media presence whatsoever.
There were a few articles about horses bred by the Wallaces that won competitions at rodeos and then a mention in a local school’s PTA minutes about a donation Dale and his wife, Paige, made to hire a chess instructor.
There were also records of Wallace-bred horses sold at auctions around the country for ungodly amounts of money.
Otherwise, zilch. I kinda respect that actually, even if I don’t agree with the business sense behind not having a curated online presence.
“We don’t need attention,” Colton shoots back. “Our reputation speaks for itself. The right people will always find us.”
Fire grips my lungs and squeezes. “Reputation is almost everything. But that will only get you so far. From what I’ve seen, y’all take immense pride in what you do.
Yes, you do it well. Probably better than anybody else.
So why not take it to the next level? Why not get your name out there more? I see enormous potential here.”
“More isn’t always better.” Colton’s hands are still on his hips. “As a matter of fact, we’re about as busy as we can handle right now. With my parents winding down their involvement—”
“I’m old, but I’m not dead,” Dale interjects.
Colton keeps his eyes locked on mine as he speaks to his father. “But you are making the kind of questionable decisions that have me thinking you should retire sooner rather than later.”
“Hey, guys?” Billie leans forward. “I feel like we’re airing some dirty laundry here. We don’t wanna scare Lainey off, do we?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Colton replies smoothly. “Let’s keep going, then. Maybe I won’t have to escort her back to Dallas.”
“Fort Worth,” I say.
Dale lets out a breath. “I’m never one to pull rank, but you’re forgetting that I’m the principal here, son.
You’re foreman, and sure, that’s a big job.
Ultimately, though, I’m the one who calls the shots and signs the paychecks.
You want me to retire? Fine. But before I go, I want Lainey to work her magic.
” Dale walks toward the door. “And I want you to help her. Do we have an understanding, Colt?”
A muscle in Colton’s sharp jaw twitches. “This is a headache I do not need today.”
“Your attitude is what we don’t need,” Dale shoots back. “You know the ranch best out of everybody. It’s your job to show new employees the ropes. So do your job. That’s all I’m asking.”
Colton’s chest barrels out on a deeply aggrieved inhale. “How old are you, Lainey?”
I’m the color of a beet. I know it. “Twenty-four.”
The jerk throws back his head and laughs. A rich, smoky sound that has my nipples doing weird things inside my bra. “A twenty-four-year-old expert.”
“I’ve been doing this for years, thank you very much. I’ve got dozens of very satisfied clients.”
“Sure you do. That’s rich.”
“I’m rich.” Dale is talking in his stern I’m-the-boss voice again.
“And I got that way because I made smart choices for the business. If you recall, I inherited a reputable but unprofitable operation from my daddy. Thirty years later…” He glances at the brand-new offices around us.
“Some things are the same, but others are completely different. I’ve earned the right to make the final call.
We need Lainey’s help. A rebrand will be good for the ranch, and it’ll be good for our family too.
All our family, including Dean. Why are you so threatened by that? ”
Colton tilts his head. His voice is different when he says, “You know why.”
I sense an undercurrent of…something between Dale and his son. Dale told me all about his six kids on our preliminary call. I’d scrambled to keep up as I took copious notes.
Wallace Kids (oldest to youngest)
Colton—> second in command, foreman for 5 years
Beck—> short for Benjamin Becker, horse and cattle guy, foodie
Billie—> only girl, accountant, training to barrel race
Nash—> Irish twins with Mack, 11 months apart, horse guy
Mack—> interested in becoming contractor, v handy
Tate—> jack-of-all-trades, Paige’s favorite (she is matriarch of whole crew)
I loved how Dale bragged on Beck’s cooking skills and Billie’s knack for numbers. He said Colton was a “hard worker who loved his family more than anything.” Billie put it a bit more bluntly this morning when she said he was “tough” and “hella grumpy but for good reason.”
Now I’m wondering what that reason is.
But it’s not my place to pry. I’m here to rock this job, get Dale’s glowing recommendation, and figure out what the hell I wanna do with the rest of my life.
Who knows who I’ll meet while I’m here? Maybe a future boss. Future business partner.
Future personal partner.
College was the land of casual hookups. I thought I’d encounter some real boyfriend material at business school, but the dating scene there left a lot to be desired.
Now I’m in my mid-twenties, and I’ve never been in love.
Well, not with someone who loved me back.
I made the ill-advised decision to hook up on and off with a guy throughout my freshman and sophomore years of undergrad.
He was still in love with his ex-girlfriend back home in Maine and told me as much.
But being the naive little baby I was, I figured he’d eventually forget about her and think about me instead.