“I’ll call your mom. Thank you for contacting Paolo.”
He didn’t respond. After sex he’d grown distant. She started to ask him about it when his phone rang again.
He answered and handed her the phone. “Speak of the devil.”
She gave him a quizzical look and took his cell from him. It was Wendy. Gina told her about Sawyer’s latest revelation and put the phone on speaker. They all talked at once.
“I’m hearing the same thing,” Wendy said. “But at this juncture it’s just idle gossip, nothing to work with.”
“What about holding a press conference? I could say I don’t know who fabricated the story, but it’s not true. Show the original photo of Candace and Danny on the beach. Tell them that regardless of whether they believe me or not, Danny and I are not engaged, dating, or otherwise involved.”
“We could’ve done that weeks ago, Gina. Until we can give a corroborated version of the true story, what does it buy you? Nothing. It only draws more attention to the negative story.”
Gina looked at Sawyer to see if he agreed with his mother. Poker face. He either approved of Wendy’s advice or didn’t want to get in the middle.
“Okay, but I can’t stay here forever. The rest of my business is flailing without me.”
“Give me a couple of days to see if I can at least calm things down here as far as the media situation, throw them the Danny rumor. Let them chase him for a while,” Wendy said.
“I’ll start packing.” This time, Gina knew she’d be leaving for good.
* * * *
The next day, Gina hiked across the ranch to Aubrey and Charlie’s store and studio. A month ago, she’d despised the place: the dust, the ticks, the cows, and the log cabin.
She still wouldn’t call herself a country girl, but Dry Creek Ranch had come to hold a special place in her heart. Even the cabin had grown on her, or at least it had lost some of its creepiness. The view outside her window might not be the Pacific Ocean, but the creek and endless skyline of mountain peaks were breathtaking. And the peacefulness of the ranch had wrapped itself around her like a soft blanket. But it was the people, most of all that, she’d come to love.
One in particular.
She stopped to catch her breath and leaned against a tree trunk, knowing that she’d broken her self-imposed rule. She’d let Sawyer in too deep and now he was embedded in her soul. She tried to fool herself into believing that a 500-mile separation wasn’t that far and they could still see each other. But intellectually she knew they were doomed—like all her relationships. There wasn’t space in her life for a full-time man, nor did she have the emotional wherewithal to make the room.
She pushed herself off the tree, emphatic that the two of them weren’t meant to be and kept walking until she reached the old barn. Charlie was busy showing two women a farm table made from reclaimed barn wood. Gina quickly ducked into Aubrey’s office, sight unseen.
Aubrey waved, pointed to the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, and made the crazy sign with her finger.
“Laney, calm down. She’s right here.” Aubrey handed the phone to Gina and mouthed “Good luck.”
“What’s going on?” Gina asked on full alert, afraid that the paparazzi had discovered her hiding place and had descended on the coffee shop.
“I need you to get your tiny butt down here. Jimmy Ray has the flu and I’ve got a party of thirty-eight due at one o’clock. It’s Tiffany’s birthday lunch and I ain’t canceling it.”
“You want me to cook?” Gina asked, confused. Why did everyone assume that the title “chef” meant she’d worked in a restaurant kitchen?
Her first job out of culinary school had been in the kitchen of Steven Spielberg and Kate Capshaw’s home, making healthful meals for their family. It had been a plum job, because in LA it wasn’t what you knew, it was who you knew.
She’d gone straight from the Spielberg home to FoodFlicks, never once interning under a restaurant chef or even flipping burgers at a fast-food joint.
“Yes, I want you to cook,” Laney trilled on the other end of the phone. “I’m up shit’s creek here without a paddle. Now get movin’, young’un.”
“Laney, I can’t—” There was a dial tone before she could finish her sentence. Gina turned to Aubrey. “She hung up on me.”
Aubrey laughed. “Of course she did. She didn’t want to give you a chance to say no.”
“I don’t want to leave her in the lurch, but…”
“You’re a world-famous chef, not a short-order cook.” Aubrey took the phone from Gina and hit instant redial.
Gina wrestled it away and pressed theend callbutton before anyone picked up. “I’ll do it.” She could handle thirty-eight people. She’d done dinner parties for the Spielbergs dozens of times, though it had been years. It was like riding a bike, she told herself. Besides, it would be her last hurrah in Dry Creek.
