Page 119 of Tempting Wyatt

I smirk. “All right, angel, let’s see what you’ve got.”

A loud knock on my front door stops her from laying her cards down.

“Who the hell could that be,” I mutter, standing and telling her to stay put since she’s half naked.

The playful way Ivy watches me and the relaxed warmth of moments ago fades into the background as I open my front door to find Joe Talbot standing on the porch.

“Wyatt,” he says, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry to drop by unannounced. I tried calling.”

Instead of inviting him in, I step out onto the porch and close the door behind me.

“I’ve been meaning to return your calls,” I tell him. I’d been putting it off until I had enough money saved to make a payment.

He nods. “I think it’s about time we have a chat.”

I exhale sharply, shoulders rolling back. “Didn’t realize the bank made house calls. Little late, isn’t it?”

“Wish I could say it was just a friendly visit.” He adjusts his tie, like even out here, in all this wide-open space, it's strangling him.

I lean against the railing, arms crossed. “Let's hear it.”

Joe hesitates, gaze flicking to the mountains in the distance before finally settling on me. “It's about the ranch.”

My jaw tightens. I don't move. “Figured. Go on.”

He exhales hard, setting his briefcase down, pulling out a folder like it holds my fate. “You're more than thirty days behind on two of your mortgage payments. Property taxes are past due. You've got thirty days to come up with ninety grand, or the bank forecloses on you.”

The words hit like a kick to the ribs.

“Thirty days,” I repeat, my voice rough. “To come up with ninety grand?”

“I know.” His tone softens, but it doesn't do a damn thing to lighten the weight pressing against my chest. “I pushed for more time, but the higher-ups are cracking down. You're on their radar. There's a lot of interest in this land.”

This I already know.

I glance out at the land stretching past the fence line, past the barns and the fields, all the way to the mountains that have stood here longer than any of us. My family built this ranch with their bare hands, bled for it, sacrificed for it for generations. Losing it isn't an option.

“And if I can't get the full amount?”

Joe sighs. “The property tax from last year isn't fully paid. Thirty grand of what you owe is back taxes. Not paying the full amount isn't an option if you want to keep the ranch.”

Jesus. Might as well be a million dollars. Between the money still owed to the lawyers, the hit from losing half the herd to disease, and the skyrocketing cost of upkeep and feed, I’m barely keeping my head above water as it is.

Joe shifts, running a hand through his neatly combed hair. “Look, Wyatt, I hate this. You're a good man, just like your father was. This ranch, it's your family's legacy. I get that. But my hands are tied.”

I breathe in deep, forcing my frustration down. Joe's not the enemy here.

“You got any advice, or you just come to deliver bad news?”

He sighs, then straightens. “There’s a livestock auction in Three Forks next week then another soon after, across the state line in Wishing, Wyoming. They're paying premiums. Market's strong right now. Selling off some of your heard and maybe some yearlings could get you a portion of what you need.”

“Sell more of my herd?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Pretty soon, I won't have anything left to ranch with.”

Joe doesn't argue. “Maybe there’s another way. Investors, a partnership—something to buy you time. If you need help navigating it, you know where to find me.”

I nod, but I don’t answer. The vultures who want to “invest” or partner with me would just as soon cut my throat in my sleep.

Joe steps off the porch, walking back to his truck, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet loud in the quiet. “I'll check back in with you in two weeks.” He glances toward the mountain range, then gives me a sad smile. “I got them to agree to wait thirty days to take action, but that’s the best I could do.”