Page 9 of Wild Rivals

“What’ve you got for us?” Grayson asks, flipping through the papers I’ve handed him.

I lean back in my chair, observing them both. “There’s a last lot of land that Jim Evergreen is going to be putting up for sale. The Harts want it.”

Grayson narrows his eyes at me, sliding his pack onto the desktop. “If this is some sort of Hart revenge plot, it’s a no from me.”

Inhaling, I look over at the mountains again, Maddie’s words floating around my mind and fueling the fire of annoyance in my chest. “They want to use it to expand their business. To bring more tourists to Coldwater.”

“You know that doesn’t always mean it’s a bad thing, right? I think, given how much time has passed, we’ve all learned from what happened with Autumn,” Kade replies, setting his pack on the edge of Grayson’s desk.

“Of course you’d say something like that. But not every tourist is like Chloe, Kade. They don’t all respect the land and how things work around here. This has nothing to do with my dislike of the Harts. This is about the damage they cause when they ride fucking ATVs through our fences, tear up our grazing fields, or break the spirit of our family members. Then they have the nerve to act like we’re the ones bothering them. The more tourists that come, the more damage they will cause, especially on that plot because it’s right next to our fields.”

Grayson’s brows lift to his hairline, disbelief flashing across his face. “Right, but this has nothing to do with the Harts?”

I hesitate for a beat before shaking my head.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “We don’t need the land, but I also don’t need more damage being done than we already have to deal with, and we all know that will be inevitable. I also want to be very clear, Wyatt. What happened with Autumn is in the past; she’s over it. You need to be too. What do you think, Kade?”

I jerk my head and try to keep the swirl of excitement at bay because nothing is guaranteed yet. We still need Kade to say yes, and if he does, I’d then need Jim Evergreen to sign on the dotted line. Until he does, there’s still a chance Maddie will get the land and then who knows what will happen.

Kade lifts a shoulder. “I’m not opposed to it. It’s a large pocket, so we’d have to figure out how we can use it, given how close it is to the stream. Have you spoken to Tanner and Reed about it?”

Tanner Westbrook is our Chief Operations Officer and is responsible for making sure our operations—here in Montana and those we’ve formed in Texas—run smoothly. Reed Harrison is our numbers man. As our Chief Financial Officer, he’s the one who ensures we don’t blow the billions of dollars we’ve made on frivolous shit. He’s also best friends with Gracie.

“Yeah. Reed has crunched the numbers, and Tanner will look at some possible agricultural opportunities for us, so the land itself is preserved. He said he’s got a few ideas already brewing.”

Grayson nods, taking one last glance at the papers in front of him. “Then I guess it’s settled. You gonna need any help with this, or you got it handled?”

I’ve met Jim in a business capacity a handful of times when I attended meetings with Grayson for the negotiation of other lots of his land. He’s a typical Montana businessman and much like how our dad used to operate. He likes you to shoot it straight, but he’ll always make his own decisions with no swaying. “Nah, I’ve got it handled.”

If I’m up against Maddie Hart, she doesn’t stand a chance.

7

MADDIE

Guests and staff fill the lobby of Hartlands Ranch, and an inaudible murmur of chatter fills the air. The business is thriving, and this weekend, we’re hosting our fiftieth wedding in four years. Which means everything has to go off without a hitch.

Add into the mix that the couple getting married are A-list movie stars who have signed an exclusive deal with a world-famous magazine, and this is a huge deal for us. I’ve barely had two seconds to think, let alone eat or drink today, with everything that needs to be done in the run-up to such a big event.

At least that’s what I tell myself. It has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t been able to sleep properly since the rodeo. My dreams have been filled with Wyatt. Not arguments. Not the usual tension. Something else entirely. Something I don’t have the time or energy to even begin unpacking.

I’m the one who keeps everyone in line and makes sure everything is as it should be around here. Especially since Daddy has stepped back. I don’t have time to lose sleep over a man who doesn’t deserve me.

I narrow my eyes when I spot Deacon, a croissant half hanging out of his mouth and leaving behind a trail of crumbs, as he heads for the front door. My brothers are… Let’s just say I love them to death, but they have no professionalism when it comes to behaving in front of our guests.

Without a second thought or look in her direction, I hand the folder I’m holding to Mona, my assistant and literal godsend. It’s not the first time I’ve done this, and I don’t think it will be the last, given the way my brothers behave.

Mona has worked for us for three years, and before she was my assistant, she was Daddy’s. It’s safe to say she knows this place better than others. Since Daddy stepped back, she’s become my right-hand woman, and I know that should I ever want a break, she’s more than capable of stepping up and keeping this place running without a hitch.

The door closes behind Deacon, and through the glass, I watch him amble down the front porch steps without a care in the world. He throws a hammer onto his shoulder, the metal glinting in the sun. Who knows what he’s been up to, but I’ll be damned if I’m cleaning up his mess. Again. Deacon has a habit of “repairing” things around the ranch that don’t always need repairing.

Eyeing up the crumbs, I follow him, holding the door for a guest I was close to knocking over in my rush. With a practiced smile on my face, I wait for them to cross the threshold before continuing after Deacon.

Summer heat wraps around me as I jog toward him, the gravel crunching under my boots. When he’s within earshot, and so I don’t make a scene, I whisper-shout, “What are you doing, Deke?”

He whips around, one brow already raised as he chews on a mouthful of pastry. “Working. What does it look like?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a smart-ass; it doesn’t suit you.”