“So what’s the deal with you and Gina?” Cash unartfully steered the conversation away from Angie. “I see you sneaking over there a few nights a week and her driving over to your place the other nights.”
Sawyer could’ve pleaded the Fifth. Cash would’ve let it go. All three of them tried hard to respect one another’s space. Living in a fishbowl, you had to. But why? His cousin wasn’t an idiot. He saw what he saw. Knew what he knew.
“I don’t know.” Sawyer shrugged. “I guess somewhere along the way we became more than friends.”
“Is it serious?”
“Nah.” How could it be? Gina wanted her old life and Sawyer didn’t want any part of it. He was a writer and a rancher, not arm candy for a celebrity. The restaurant…it had been a stupid idea. She was too big for Dry Creek Ranch, even if she had wanted to be a restaurateur. Which clearly she didn’t. “Just a summer thing. Passing the time until she goes home.”
Cash held his gaze. “How’s her situation coming? You figure out who’s responsible for that picture…the texts?”
“Not yet. We found the original photo, though. The one that was photoshopped to make it look like Gina was in the picture. Now all she has to do is prove it.”
“I imagine that won’t be an easy feat. You got anything better?”
Sawyer let out a wry chuckle. “You mean the proverbial smoking gun? No, not yet. Working on it.”
“You got two cops living next door. Yell if you need help. We’ll put our heads together. Of course, if you don’t want her to leave…” The corner of Cash’s mouth turned up.
Sawyer ignored the insinuation because it was too close to the truth. He needed a good assignment, something that would take him on the road. Something that would clear his head and take his focus away from Gina.
“We could use the cabin, maybe rent it out to add to our Dry Creek Ranch roadside-attraction coffers.”
Cash rubbed his hand down his chin. “Tuff mentioned looking for a place close by. He’s sharing a bunkhouse with a bunch of cowboys. He’ll need his own digs when he leaves wrangling behind.”
Though Sawyer had been the one to bring it up, the idea of someone other than Gina living in Cash’s old cabin bothered him. Boy, did he have to get a grip. He was like Travis with his first crush.
“I’ve gotta giddyup if I’m going to make it to that lunch.” Cash got to his feet. “I’ll let you know if I hear from Ken.”
“If you wind up paying him a visit, can I tag along?”
Cash grabbed his hat off the rack by the staircase. “Don’t think that would be a good idea. I can’t even get the guy to return my calls. He sure as shit won’t talk if you’re there with me. I’ll get it done. That’s a promise.” He lifted his hand, waved it in the air, and ate up the stairs with that long stride of his.
Sawyer polished off his water, got another from the fridge, and booted up his laptop on the kitchen island. He promised he wouldn’t let himself think about Gina until after he got his writing done.
Ten minutes later, he trolled Realtor.com to find the listing for Beals Ranch. Ten million dollars is how much Randy wanted for it. And Sawyer had no doubt that it was worth every cent. A contiguous, fully fenced, nearly flat thousand-acre working ranch, complete with barns, irrigation, corrals, equipment, three wells, and a couple of houses in Gold Country was rarer than the precious metal for which the region was named.
He flipped through the twenty-eight photos, starting with an aerial view of the ranch. It was beautiful land, guarded by the Sierra Nevada mountains. No doubt it was a developer’s wet dream. Only sixty-five miles from Sacramento, ninety to Reno, and a hundred and fifty to San Francisco. Despite its proximity to large cities, it felt like a world away. And with nearby Grass Valley, Nevada City, and Auburn a person could get just about everything they needed, even Starbucks.
He closed down the real estate tab on his computer and returned to working on his article. It was due in a few days and he needed to flesh out a lot of what he’d already written. His editor atEsquirewas already haranguing him about doing a piece on the staggering homicide rate in Central America, which would likely entail weeks of travel.
It used to be one of the best parts of his job. But now he was dreading it. He told himself it was because of Angie. He needed to stay close in case they broke the email riddle.
But deep down inside he knew it had more to do with Gina. She’d become a preoccupation. He had to keep reminding himself that they traveled in different lanes and he didn’t see how their highways could ever converge.
Nope, she’d made it clear they both wanted two very different things. Time to stop fixating and get back to work. Get back to the things that mattered.
Chapter 17
Gina pressed her face against the glass of the small Cessna aircraft as the plane took off from Auburn Municipal Airport. She should’ve left the previous night in her car, but hadn’t been up for the seven-hour drive to Los Angeles. And a commercial flight was out of the question.
At least she’d had the whole night to work the phones. And even though the chartered flight was an extravagance, she couldn’t afford to put this off.
ChefAid had made it known it was ready to cut her loose.
She was getting pummeled from all sides and needed to put her boxing gloves on.
“Can I use my phone?” she asked the flight attendant, who sat in the seat behind the cockpit.
