“Me.” She leaned back and threaded her hands behind her head. “I might be a pariah in TV land, but I still have some friends in the restaurant industry. I could make a few calls. And if I ever get my show back I could do some serious product placement, like dedicating a whole episode to beef braciole, using Dry Creek Ranch meat.”
“You would do that for us?”
“For Aubrey and Charlie, sure.” A teasing smile played on her lips. “But I still think you need something besides a butcher shop that will attract visitors. A store like Dean and DeLuca would be a sure thing.”
The likelihood of a national store like that coming to Dry Creek Ranch was a pipe dream. But he knew what she meant. Something with enough name recognition to attract large crowds. Yet, it couldn’t be something shoppers could find in any city shopping mall, otherwise they wouldn’t make the trek to the Sierra foothills.
“You have any contacts with Dean and DeLuca?” he asked, half-jokingly.
“Nope. But give me a little time to think of another option where I might have an in.”
She untucked her legs and stretched them across the ottoman. He flashed on how she’d wrapped those long, shapely legs around his waist and made himself shut the vision down. He wasn’t here for a bootie call. If she insisted that would be one thing. But he’d come over to talk, not to tangle up the sheets.
“What if we started our own gourmet grocery store? We could focus on local goods. Olive oils, wine, produce, cheese—you know the drill.”
She wagged her hand from side to side. “I’m not saying no. But something with name recognition would be better. Basically, you’re talking about a fancy farm stand. With a good roadside billboard, you might attract people who are passing through. But I don’t know that anyone would drive hours just for your farm stand.”
Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck. “Since there are lots of them along California highways, it would have to be one hell of a farm stand, I guess.”
“Exactly.” She yawned, which should’ve been his cue to leave, but he wanted to loiter.
“I should go. Let you get some sleep,” he said halfheartedly just to be polite, hoping she’d invite him to stay. The desire to linger was an anomaly for Sawyer, who usually couldn’t get his boots on fast enough when leaving a woman’s house. He wouldn’t call it fear of commitment, just attention deficit disorder where members of the opposite sex were concerned.
“It’s not even ten yet.” She eyed his empty ice cream bowl. “You want something else to eat? Or I could open a bottle of wine.”
“You have beer?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, got up, checked her refrigerator, and found a six-pack of Firestone hiding behind a carton of Greek yogurt. He held up one of the beers, silently asking permission.
“Help yourself.”
“You want one?” She nodded and he popped the caps off two bottles and brought them back to the living room.
There was a noise outside. It sounded like a critter scampering across the deck. He flicked on the porch light and peered outside the window.
“What?” she asked. “Did you hear something?”
Other than a swarm of gnats buzzing around the glow of the lantern, he saw nothing amiss. “It was probably a raccoon or an opossum.” They had plenty of both on the ranch.
“Or another stalker with a camera.” She got to her feet and joined him at the window.
“Jace said he’ll talk to Tiffany about keeping her mouth shut.”
“What good will that do? The horse is already out of the barn.”
Probably, but he couldn’t help but hope that their visitor was an isolated incident. “We’ll see. If need be, we’ll take evasive measures.”
“No evasive measures,” she said, standing so close he could feel her body heat. “This is your home and your business. It should always feel secure, not like a sideshow. If more reporters come, I’ll leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” The admission—the revelation itself—surprised the hell out of him and he immediately began to think of ways to rephrase what he’d just said, because he needed time to digest whatever this was he was feeling. “I mean, you shouldn’t have to go. You came here because it’s safe. I’ll damn well make sure it stays that way.”
“I’m not afraid of these people. I just don’t want them creating a problem for your family.”
“We can handle whatever comes up,” he said, knowing full well that only weeks ago he would’ve seized on an opportunity like this to boot her all the way back to LA.
But somewhere along the way his attitude toward her had changed and it was damned inconvenient. Outside of his family, he didn’t take on other people’s problems unless it was for work. And those crusades tended to be about world crises, not how to shield a fallen celebrity chef from the paparazzi. But something significant had changed between them and it wasn’t just fantastic sex.
“I’m sure you can. But I’m not that selfish.”
“Yes, you are.” He winked to show he was teasing, but wanted to steer them onto their usual course of needling each other. It was easier than facing up to the fact that he might be falling for her. He wasn’t ready to fall, especially for a woman who was so ill-suited for him.
