Ranch And Roses

Hey girl, get comfy because I’ve got a story for you—my story—and it’s a total rollercoaster of heartache, hope, and finding love in the dusty corners of a place I once thought I’d outgrown. I’m talking about my family’s ranch in Texas, where the sun beats down so fiercely it’s like it’s trying to melt your lip gloss right off your face. I used to think I’d never go back there. Like, ever. But, oh sweetie, sometimes life has a funny way of spinning your plans on their head, especially when love comes strutting through the stables in a worn-out pair of cowboy boots. Let me dish, because you deserve all the juicy details. ( Lesbian Roamntic Story)

So I’m Olivia—Liv, if you’re in my inner circle—and a few months ago, I was living the city-girl dream. Seriously, babe, I had it all: the penthouse vibe, all-night sushi deliveries, a closet so stuffed with designer heels I’d practically turned it into my second bedroom. Like, I was one well-timed selfie away from absolute influencer glory, you know? Then one afternoon, right in the middle of a photo shoot for my blog, I got a call from my dad. Now, my dad isn’t the type to just chit-chat. He’s old-school ranch stock—a “call only when necessary” kinda man.

And guess what he dropped on me? The ranch was in trouble. Bills stacked to the rafters. Land taxes were off the charts. He was considering selling the land to some big-shot developers who wanted to turn it into a high-end resort with a golf course and spa. Don’t get me wrong, I love a spa day as much as the next girl, but the whole idea of our ranch—my family’s legacy—turned into a playground for city billionaires? It made my heart twist in ways I hadn’t felt in years.

It was like a switch flipped in my brain. I told Dad to hold off on signing anything. The next day, I was on a plane back to the lone star state, swapping my strappy heels for a pair of scuffed-up boots at the airport like I was stepping into a time warp. I figured I’d show up, wave my fancy business degree around, maybe sweet-talk the bank or an investor, and save the day in a weekend. Ha! That’s naive city-girl me, thinking everything in life can be solved over a latte and a well-crafted pitch deck. But let’s just say, the ranch had other plans.

The minute I stepped onto the ranch, my eyes landed on Taylor. Girl, let me just say, the pictures in my dad’s holiday cards did not do her justice. She was leaning against the barn door with her arms crossed, wearing these faded blue jeans that clung to her hips like they were made for her. Her T-shirt was knotted at the waist, showing a sliver of tanned skin and a taut stomach from all that ranch work. She had a broad-brimmed hat shading her face, but I could still catch a glimpse of her deep brown eyes—quiet, intense, and a little curious.

When I hopped out of my rental car, I tried to keep it cool, you know, like I wasn’t a total fish out of water. But the ground was still soft from a recent rain, and my designer boots kinda sank right in. So here I was, tottering like a stork in the mud, cursing under my breath. Right then, Taylor uncrossed her arms, sauntered over, and said, “Need a hand, city girl?” She offered me a strong grip, calloused from manual labor—something about that felt so real. I couldn’t help but stare at her dirt-streaked hands and think, “Wow, this woman’s life is so different from mine.”

She introduced herself with a tip of her hat. “Taylor. I’ve been keeping this place afloat with your dad.” She smirked slightly, her voice low and deliberate, and I felt a bolt of something electric shoot through me. Nerves, maybe. Or intrigue. Possibly both.

I plastered on my best polite smile, though my heart was basically pounding out of my chest. “Olivia,” I managed. “Nice to meet you.” Our handshake lingered a beat too long. I swore I saw the corner of her mouth twitch up, like she’d caught my wide-eyed reaction.

That first week was a whole adjustment, let me tell you. The city lights and background noise were replaced by wide-open skies and the sounds of cicadas at dusk—like nature’s own lullaby. Instead of morning cappuccinos, I had dusty boots at 5 a.m. to feed the horses and make sure the livestock was set for the day. And in the middle of all that, there was Taylor, quietly working side by side with me, fixing fences, grooming the horses, repairing the old barn roof that had more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese.

We kinda clashed at first. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the “heiress” come in, throwing around ideas for expansions or fancy marketing. And I definitely wasn’t used to having my suggestions brushed off so curtly. More than once, I stomped off in a huff, cursing her under my breath as she shrugged me off and kept hammering away at broken boards.

But underneath that tough exterior, I sensed a warmth in Taylor. Whenever I dropped my city attitude and listened—really listened—she’d open up, just a little. Like, one evening after dinner, we found ourselves alone in the barn. I was trying (and failing) to coax a nervous mare into letting me clean her hooves. Taylor slid in beside me, murmuring calming words to the horse. The way her voice softened, the gentle way she ran her fingers through the mare’s mane… girl, my heart practically did a backflip. She didn’t even say a thing to me—just showed me how to soothe the horse. Then she walked away, leaving me breathless in the stale hay-scented air.

About two weeks into my stay, we had a crisis that changed everything. One of our horses, Bluebonnet—a spirited mare who’d been with the ranch since forever—decided to bolt during an afternoon thunderstorm. She freaked out at the crack of thunder, kicked down part of a fence, and vanished into the mesquite trees beyond the property line. Let me tell you, sweetie, my heart seized up when I heard the news. This horse was basically a family member, and if she got too spooked, she could hurt herself.

Taylor and I rode out together at first light to track Bluebonnet down. We galloped across the range, the cool morning air whipping against our faces, the sky slowly turning from purple to gold. Every now and then, we’d pause, scanning for hoofprints in the mud, broken branches, or any sign of a runaway horse. We hardly spoke, but there was this silent understanding between us—that we had to find her, no matter what.

It took us hours, pushing deeper into the scrubland, weaving through prickly pear cacti and twisted oaks. Eventually, we spotted her near a shallow creek bed. She was trembling, her reins tangled in some thorny brush. Without even thinking, Taylor slid off her horse, creeping close to Bluebonnet. I stayed back, my pulse racing as I prayed she wouldn’t startle and run. Slowly, gently, Taylor loosened the reins and soothed Bluebonnet. Then, with this quiet, patient skill, she coaxed the mare to safety.

Afterward, Taylor and I stood by the creek, our horses sipping at the water. My heart was pounding from the adrenaline rush. She met my gaze. “You did good, riding out here with me,” she said, her voice softer than I’d ever heard.

I couldn’t help but beam. “We make a decent team, huh?” I asked, and she gave the faintest of nods. Then she offered me her canteen. I took a sip, my throat parched, but let me tell you, my mouth was drier from the crackling tension in the air. Our eyes locked, and for a split second, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of us and the sound of trickling water. My cheeks flamed under her steady gaze. We didn’t kiss or anything—trust me, that would have been epic—but it was the first moment I realized, in a very real way, that I was falling for her. Hard.

When we got back to the ranch, sweaty and sore but triumphant, Dad was waiting with a scowl. Except, it wasn’t directed at me, or Taylor. He was on the phone with some city developer, basically giving them every courtesy while refusing to sign. But I could see the strain in his eyes. That evening, he finally confided in me that we were deeper in the red than I’d imagined. Apparently, the ranch had been hemorrhaging money for years. My dad had tried to shield me from it, not wanting me to worry or intervene.

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