Branded #2
It’s all I can do not to stare at him. He’s seated just to my right, his hands on the armrests of his chair. His ankle is crossed over his knee, and he’s leaning slightly back, the massive bulk of his body relaxed, at ease.
“Look at you, being able to admit when you’re wrong.” Mack gives his brother a shove. “I like the new Colt.”
I do too. So fucking much.
“The operation y’all have built is incredible. I recognize that it’s been the work of generations to keep the ranch intact, but I also see the personal stamp each of you is putting on your family’s legacy. Y’all have so much to be proud of.”
Dale puts a hand over his heart. “That means a lot, Lainey. Thank you.”
I bend down to hit a button on my laptop, queueing up the presentation. I forward to the page where I share my thought process.
“Tradition is important here,” I continue. “Not only because it’s the glue that keeps your family together but also because it’s how you know yourselves. It’s what differentiates y’all—what makes a Wallace a Wallace.”
I feel Colt’s eyes boring into me. Glancing at him, I see that he’s doing his squinting thing.
“I’ve tried to capture that in your new branding.
History plays a huge role here. So does innovation.
You survive by calling on the traditions of the past but also by staying curious about the future.
Billie’s animal therapy program is a perfect example of that.
So is the training program for barrel racing. ”
“Dang.” Tate spears a hand through his hair. “You make us sound like professionals or some shit.”
“You’re the best in the business.” I flip to the next slide. “That’s no secret. I think we use your new branding to call on your heritage—the past—and make it a point to show you’ll bring your traditions with you into the future while also nodding to the excitement and potential of the present.”
Tate starts to speak, but Colt shushes him.
“It’s all right,” I say. “Tate, did you have something to add?”
“He can do it at the end of the presentation,” Colt answers for him. “The floor is yours, Lainey. We’re all ears.”
A strange, not altogether unpleasant pressure builds inside my chest. That exchange lasted all of twelve seconds. Most people would forget it even happened.
But I’ll never forget how valued and important Colt made me feel by holding space for me. All my life, I’ve been taught to put everyone else first. To listen to everyone else before I even think about speaking up myself.
Here’s Colt, though, telling me to speak up.
Telling everyone that I come first.
He’d have something very dirty to say about that.
That’s when I know I’m in love with Colt Wallace. Standing in front of his whole family, I wobble on my feet beneath the weight of what’s happening inside me. Between us. All around us.
I know him. But he just might know me better. He’s been paying very close attention.
Not only that, he’s giving me what even I didn’t know I needed—permission to take up space without feeling like I need to earn it first and to go after what I want.
Pressure builds behind my eyes too. This is terrible.
This is wonderful.
Whatever it is, I know I’m a professional, damn it. So I blink back the tears and go on to the next slide, where I share the color palette I decided on. It’s a stunning mix of earthy yellow tones, some deep turquoise, and vibrant crimson.
Paige gasps, her hand going to her mouth.
Billie’s face splits into a smile.
Dale claps his hands, then immediately looks guilty. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Laughing, I cross my arms. “I take it that means you like what you’re seeing?”
“Lainey, I love it.” Holy shit, are those tears in Dale’s eyes? I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.
Colt sends his father a look. “After the presentation, remember?”
“It’s all right, really. I love a good collab,” I reply.
“I love hearin’ you talk shop more,” Colt says back.
Nash is wearing a shit-eating grin. “Lainey and Colton, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I—”
“Shut up,” Colt says smoothly.
“Make me.”
Dale drops the side of his face into his hand. “Y’all, Lainey is up there doing the Lord’s work trying to make the ranch a more lucrative operation so that when I pass it on to you, y’all don’t gotta worry about money. But now I’m thinking I just might pass it on to her instead.”
Billie nods. “Girl power.”
“Anyway,” I say with a smile. “I kept the color palette somewhat neutral in keeping with the yellow tones Dean and I agreed on. I was inspired by what I’ve observed around the ranch. This is a glorious time of year, and I hoped to capture that in the palette.”
My heart works its way up to my throat as I click to the next slide. This is the meat and potatoes of my presentation—the logos themselves.
I spent whole weeks working through my ideas. At first, I agreed with Colt about avoiding horseshoes so we wouldn’t echo Lucky River Ranch’s logo. I focused instead on horses, barns, longhorns. That kind of thing.
None of it felt right, though. Because I’m sticking with Double U Ranch, I kept coming back to the idea of two horseshoes looped together.
Seemed too obvious at first, but then I started playing around with monogram-type letters, only done in a rustic, literal “branding” style, and it suddenly clicked.
So now the logo looks like this: a pair of intertwined horseshoes with the ends pointing up, creating a W. Beneath that is written “Double U Ranch” in a cool serif font that’s a total classic with a Western twist.
I present several spins on the same idea, each one a slightly different iteration of the original logo. I have the whole thing in white against a marigold yellow background. In the next option, I added some turquoise and oxblood red.
It’s all totally different from anything I’ve ever done before.
My whole being swells with pride as I look at my work. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to create a damn thing when I first arrived and Colt met me with his surliness and his cigars.
But nevertheless, I persevered. And I’m damn proud of what I have to show for it.
Even if the room goes dead silent. Seriously, you could hear a pin drop for how quiet everyone suddenly gets.
I look out over the table, trying to gauge what’s going on. Is this not what they were expecting? They loved the color palette, so surely I can’t be too off the mark with the logos.
Then: a clap.
I blink, pulse skidding to a painful stop when Colt stands and claps again. And again. Slowly.
“Are you giving me a golf clap?” I can only stare at him, slightly panicked and completely bewildered.
He shakes his head but continues to clap. “I’m giving you a holy-fuck-you-knocked-it-out-of-the-park clap. I don’t know which logo to pick because I love them all.”
Billie jumps to her feet. “Lainey, this deserves a standing ovation. I am obsessed.”
“Lai-ney,” Mack chants, standing too.
Then everyone is getting to their feet and chanting my name. Lai-ney. Lai-ney. Lai-ney.
I put a hand to my face, my eyes filling with tears all over again. “But I haven’t even gotten to the taglines yet! Or my ideas for the website pages! And the business cards and letterhead and merch and…well, everything else.”
But they just keep chanting my name.
I blush so furiously I must be the color of a tomato. I’ve been taught to never ever cry on the job. It’s unprofessional, and it makes everyone uncomfortable.
Up until now, I’ve stuck to that rule. But now—I don’t know, I’m wondering if there are no rules anymore.
I’m wondering if I get to make them up, since this is my presentation. My blood, sweat, and tears up there on the screen.
What if this is what work was meant to feel like all along?
I burst into tears. Putting a hand over my face, I wonder at my ability to smile and sob at the same time.
The clapping reaches a crescendo, and then everyone is hollering and whistling and just being all-around joyous. It feels like a holiday.
It feels like home.
“Y’all,” I manage when the room quiets a little bit. “Why—I mean, you didn’t have to… It’s just some logos.”
Paige comes over to wrap me in a hug. “It’s more than that, Lainey. It’s you capturing who we are in a beautiful way.”
But really, I need to stop crying. “Branding and marketing—they’re an art and a science. Same could be said about what y’all do too. Maybe that’s why I was able to, you know, capture the spirit of Double U.”
“I like that idea,” Colt says.
Fuck you, you perfect piece of cowboy ass.
Fuck you for making me fall head over heels in love with you.
Everyone sits so I can complete the presentation. When I do, I open up the floor for feedback.