AllFreeNovel
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Sometimes I wonder if we’d be better off without the ranch so they can all get back to their own fucking lives.
“You ready for this?” Davis’s sharp drawl reverberates around the Bullshit Box as he pulls up YouTube. “Hang onto your hats.”
With a powerful punch, he hits play. A few seconds later, the video begins, and I step closer to the monitor. Recorded by an unseen guest, the video shows Ford, who runs our outdoor activities and excursions, with a group of guests on one of his daily rides. His languid instructions cut the morning air as he shows how to mount his gelding, Eephus.
“Oh, shit.” Ford perks up. “That was yesterday.”
Davis gives his twin a dry look. “And there’s nothing wrong with it?”
Ford’s expression is the definition of confused.
My stomach twists. Shit. It’s bad.
The platinum blonde woman in the video, dressed primly in black shorts and a white polo, yanks on the bit in the horse’s mouth as she goes in for a mount and fails. Whoever is filming the video laughs.
Ford, flashing his usual charming grin and a mouthful of white teeth, swaggers over to her. “Listen, ma’am, seeing as you’re having some trouble, if you’ll let me help you out—”
“I know how to do it, sir.” Her tone bleeds with arrogance. “I’ve ridden my whole life.”
A muscle ticks in Ford’s jaw, but he keeps an easy posture, watching as she gets one foot in the stirrup. That’s when Eephus trots away.
For a long second, the woman hangs there, screeching as she tries to get a grip on the saddle horn. Then, in what’s a really fucking stupid idea, she whips the horse with the reins. Hard.
Wyatt hisses a shocked breath.
I’m not far behind him. Anyone who knows horses and loves them like we do knows it’s a fucking cardinal sin. She’s not helping the horse focus his attention, she’s hurting him.
The woman tries to pull herself up on Eephus, fails miserably, and falls to the ground with a splat. Eephus trots off.
And then the Ford in the video laughs.
The Ford in the Bullshit Box laughs too. He and Wyatt break into wild cackles.
“Goddamn,” Ford crows, slapping his knee. “It’s even better the second time around.”
I’m about to ask Davis what the fuck he’s so worked up about, when the Ford in the video looks down at the woman in the mud puddle and barks, “C’mon, lady. Get your spoiled fucking ass up and let’s ride.”
Gasps sound from the guests. The woman cries. Ford stands there, arms crossed, staring at her with impatience and amusement.
Davis pauses the video.
I swear under my breath before I slowly turn my face to look at Ford. “You told her to get herspoiled fucking assup?”
“This is a working ranch, little brother.” Ford stares me down, daring me to argue with him. We’re only a year apart, but he and Davis pull rank when they want to piss me off. “It ain’t glamping. Our guests aren’t getting sunshine and rainbows. They’re getting cowboys and dirt and dust and if they don’t like it, they can go back to New York or L.A. or wherever the hell they’re from.”
“She didn’t get hurt,” Wyatt says, worried eyes flicking to mine. “They all sign a contract. They can’t sue us.”
“They can’t,” Davis interjects. “But this is all over TikTok. It’s going viral on social media.”
I scowl. “What the fuck is tick tack?”
Wyatt snickers. “TikTok. Social media, man. Way of the future.”
After a few clicks on the computer, Davis has a new browser up.
TikTok.
“Here ...” He shows us the original poster’s account.Lassomamav76.“Read the goddamn comments.”
