Page 117 of One Wild Chance

The barn door opens and Wyatt Chance walks in wearing a Lucky Chance cap, jeans, and an NFL T-shirt. His gaze lands on Larissa and he stops cold.

She grabs my hand under the table. “What is he doing here?” she whispers.

My bubbly, never-met-a-stranger best friend turns into a different person entirely whenever Wyatt Chance walks into a room. Her face turns the color of scarlet dahlias, and she looks like she might hyperventilate.

“Are you Summer’s friend Larissa?” he asks. “The songwriter?”

Larissa knocks an entire bundle of lavender off the workbench. “Uh, yes…”

“I left you a message,” he says. “About the open house?”

I give Larissa a look. You didn’t call him back?

“I thought it was a scam,” she says with a panicked glance at me. “There was no way Wyatt Chance personally called to request a gig. I assumed someone was pranking me by impersonating him.”

Wyatt looks between us. “Uh, no. It was really me. Unless you think I’m an impersonator now?”

“Of course not. You’re…here. And so—” Her gaze trails up his body. “Massive. What do you eat for breakfast?”

“A lot of protein, darlin’.” He leans on the worktable and smiles at her. Larissa grabs my arm tighter.

“So, you want the gig?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says. “Obviously.”

“Good,” he adds with a pleased grin. “Looking forward to it. Especially now that you know I’m not a scammer.”

Larissa stares at him like she’s lost the ability to speak. I have the feeling I should leave, but I wouldn’t miss this for anything. The girl who’s been ready for a meet-cute since she moved here is living one right now. It’s freaking adorable. Even if she’s going to kill me later for not telling her that Wyatt was going to call.

“Hey, Larissa,” I say, bumping her with my elbow so she’ll snap out of her daze. “Could you grab some more hay bales from out back? I’m setting up a picture station for the event and I need props.”

Larissa doesn’t look fooled for a second. Watching Wyatt lift hay bales? You’re welcome.

They disappear out the back door, while I set up vases along the workbench, relieved that everything is falling into place.

The barn door squeaks, and James enters, a leather portfolio under his arm. “Summer, I wondered if I’d find you in here.” He studies the barn. “This place looks incredible.”

“It’s a work in progress.” I motion toward him. “What’s the occasion? You rarely make personal visits.”

“I called Jaxon last night, asked if I could stop in. I found something when I was reviewing the trust.”

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

“Not a problem, just a clarification.” He opens the portfolio and takes out a folder. “When Miriam’s Lexington attorney wrote in the manager-in-residence requirement, the wording they used was loose. It says one beneficiary must actively oversee Lucky Chance Ranch and maintain primary residence on the property. Sounds clear initially, but neither of those terms was ever defined.” He thumbs through a few pages. “What specifically constitutes active oversight, and precisely how much time counts as primary residence? A court would have a field day with this kind of vague language.”

“So what does it mean for Jaxon?”

“In my opinion, it’s ambiguous enough that a court would likely interpret it broadly in Jaxon’s favor. He can delegate the day-to-day to a farm manager, keep this as his primary residence for purposes of the trust, and take a job anywhere he wants. He still owes his six months here like his brothers, but the trust doesn’t require him to sleep on the property. As long as he’s responsible for the overall management of Lucky Chance, he’s met the terms.” He tucks the document and folder back into his portfolio.

“So he’s allowed to leave,” I say, trying to understand what this means.

“If he chooses to. Nothing in the trust prevents him from doing that.”

Oh. My eyes slide to the door. “And you already told him this?”

“He asked me a while back to review the file. That’s why I stopped by his office late last night,” he says. “He didn’t really ask any questions. Just thanked me. I forgot to leave his copy. That’s why I stopped in today.” He studies me for a second. “I assumed he’d have told you.”

“Right,” I say with a weak nod.