Page 59 of One Wild Chance

“Haven’t heard back.” I glide my hand over the stallion’s glossy coat. Fourteen years of professional hockey, and not one thanks-but-no-thanks email.

“I didn’t know you were taking over the youth hockey team,” Rhett says.

“Yeah, well, until something else comes through,” I mutter.

I glance over at Wyatt, who looks like he’s dying to say something. I point at him. “Please no comments.”

He puts his hands up innocently. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“At least you get to see Summer every day,” he says anyway. “That’s a silver lining, isn’t it?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure it is.”

“Why not?” Grady asks.

“I can’t let myself see her differently than anyone else. That would be the stupidest move I could make right now.”

“But what if things went right?” Wyatt asks. “Have you ever thought of that?”

“I can’t.” I shift my weight to ease the pinch of these boots. “Not when our family’s legacy is on the line.”

Summer shows up that evening at the farm office wearing jeans with a tank top, an unbuttoned shirt, and her hair down around her shoulders. She hesitates at the door when she sees my brothers towering over me at the desk, studying the spreadsheet on the computer. I don’t blame her. One brother is intimidating enough—all four of us are a lot.

“Hey, Summer.” Her eyes are so blue, her mouth so unsure, that I forget to do anything but stare. “Come on in.”

She gives me a shy smile before stepping inside, and I’m guessing that she found the surprise I left her early this morning in the barn. I glance down at the spreadsheet in front of me before my brothers can catch me grinning back at her like an idiot.

“Hey, everyone,” she says, holding her laptop against her chest. “I haven’t had a lot of time to pull this presentation together, so bear with me if it’s not perfect.”

She hands out copies of the proposal, then sits down in the chair across the desk. She sets up her laptop and turns it to face us. The first thing on the screen is a photograph of our old barn, except it looks different. She’s added lights along the outside, cleaned up the landscaping, and made it look like something from a magazine.

“Is that our barn?” Wyatt asks, craning his neck to get a better look.

“A version of what it could be like,” she says. “I put it through a photo editor and added some elements on the outside—different lighting, professional landscaping, that sort of thing. I want to show you the potential.”

“It looks really good,” Grady says, leaning in.

“What would we use it for?” Wyatt asks.

“A wedding venue.”

Wyatt blinks, then laughs. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” she says. “Let me show you what it could look like.”

She pulls up a collage of photos, other comparable venues in Kentucky—old barns with exposed beams, round tables set for dinner, and an arch of flowers just like she described to me.

“Agritourism is a booming business,” she explains, “especially through unstable farm seasons. A wedding venue is one of the most popular, not to mention lucrative, ways for a farm to bring in tourists.” She pulls up an image of another wedding barn. “The closest comparable barn venue to us is two hours away. We have no direct competition within an hour radius, which means we could pull couples from all over who want a real Kentucky farm, with horses and stunning views, and we wouldn’t be fighting anyone for that market.”

Grady frowns. “Who’s getting married in Golden Springs? No offense, but it’s not exactly a hot spot for weddings.”

“It wouldn’t only be for people around here,” she says. “Couples from Lexington, Louisville, Cincinnati. All those places are within driving distance. People who want to get out of the city and have the full country experience—that’s your market.” She glances between us.

“How much does a wedding bring in?” Rhett asks.

“Depends on the package. But we’re talking a minimum of ten thousand dollars per event. With catering, flowers, full venue rental, we could charge up to thirty thousand.”