Chapter 9
Gina decided to risk another trip to the kitchen store in Grass Valley. This time, she was loaded with cash so she could purchase anything she wanted without having to use a credit card. It was still chancy, but she was climbing the walls of the cabin.
On her way out, she stopped by Refind to see if there was anything Charlie and Aubrey needed. A couple of times, they’d grabbed her groceries or sundries in town and she wanted to return the favor. That’s how it was here at the ranch. Everyone looked out for one another.
The construction crew had moved from framing to walls and windows and were making enough racket to turn a person brain-dead.
Gina went in search of her friends, only to find them in bright yellow hard hats in the middle of the crazy.
They were picking out the locations for outlets and switches before the drywall went up.
“It looks as if they’re making progress,” Gina said over the noise.
The two women led her away from the mayhem to a small Airstream trailer that Aubrey had temporarily set up as an office. At least here they could hear themselves talk.
“They say two more weeks max.” Charlie hitched her shoulders. “But you know how that is. Two weeks could very quickly turn into six months. In the meantime, we’re going deaf.”
“Where’d you get the trailer?” The interior was sad. Lots of Formica finishes and worn vinyl upholstery.
“Craigslist. Charlie’s planning to rehab it and make bank when we resell it. These things are supposedly collector’s items. But first we have to get through this.” Aubrey waved at the barn.
“So far, it looks great.” Gina was impressed with the expansion’s design. The new build was definitely in keeping with the rustic vibe of the barn. They’d gone with wood siding made from reclaimed lumber. Even the windows had been recycled from a hundred-year-old farmhouse.
“I’m headed into Grass Valley. You need anything? Earplugs, maybe?”
“An industrial-size bottle of aspirin,” Charlie joked, then eyed Gina’s disguise. This time, she’d gone with a straw cowboy hat and a pair of mirrored aviators she’d picked up online.
“What? It’s not working?”
Charlie laughed. “I know who you are so it’s hard to tell. Maybe tuck your hair up.”
Gina pulled her hair back and twisted it up underneath the hat. “Better?” She didn’t wait for an answer because it was as good as it was going to get, short of her becoming a brunette. “How ’bout you, Aubrey. Anything?”
“I’m good. But I was just about to take Sawyer to pick up his Range Rover at the mechanic. You could save me the trip.”
“Sure.” Sawyer had spent much of the past week working on his article.
Every time she’d gone over to use his kitchen, he’d either locked himself in his room or worked outside on his porch.
She’d sort of gotten used to his company and their little banter routine.
It wasn’t like she missed him—Liar!—but having him around made the days pass faster. “What’s wrong with his Range Rover?”
Aubrey shrugged. “All I know is that Jace followed him to the shop this morning and took him home and I was supposed to drive him to pick it up. But now I have you to save me the trouble.” She did a little hip-shake happy dance.
“I’ll go over and get him.”
“Don’t forget dinner at Charlie’s tonight. Just us girls.”
Gina had been looking forward to it ever since they’d invited her a couple of days ago. The last time she’d had a girls’ night was in the dorms at San Diego State. Sadie had had her sights set on USC for Gina. But Gina’s GPA hadn’t been high enough to get in. Another epic fail on Gina’s part.
“The pie is cooling and ready to go,” she told Aubrey. “And of course, strawberry shortcake.” The cake had been a special request of Travis and Grady, who’d be away but wanted slices when they got home.
Charlie had gotten the strawberries at a nearby farm stand.
The blackberries for the pie came from the bush that kept giving.
She had so many berries that she’d made a buckle, a pandowdy, and a crostata.
Gina had delivered them to Laney and Jimmy Ray for review.
Jimmy Ray said they were the best desserts he’d ever eaten and Laney had thrown a soup ladle at him. The woman had a temper.
Maybe while she was at the kitchen store she’d buy an ice cream maker and if the shop carried it, some good vanilla beans, too.
She drove to Sawyer’s and tooted her horn. He came out onto the balcony, looked down at her car, and glowered.
She stuck her head out the window and shouted up, “I’m taking you to get your Range Rover.” She added “asshole” under her breath.
He went back inside and came down a few minutes later in a pair of worn jeans and T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest. His hair was damp, like maybe he’d just showered, and a few dark tendrils curled against his neck.
He looked like a walking Super Bowl ad for Ram trucks or something equally testosterone-driven.
He got inside the passenger side of her car and pulled the seat back as far as it would go. “Where’s Aubrey?”
“She asked if I’d give you a ride because I was going to town anyway.” She backed out of his driveway and headed to Dry Creek Road. “Unless you want to come with me to the kitchen store first?”
“Tess’? What for?”
So we can hang out, stupid. “So you can carry my stuff to the car.”
He snorted, then glanced at his watch. “Buck said my car wouldn’t be ready until two, so I’ve got a little time to kill. But first let’s stop off at Beals Ranch. I want to talk to Randy about buying his stock trailer.”
“Will he recognize me?”
“I doubt it, but even if he did he isn’t the type to spread it around. Ranchers have a tendency to keep to themselves…shun the press.”
“Okay.” She had nothing else to do. “Tell me where to go.”
He gave her directions. About twenty minutes later, they passed a Century 21 for sale sign, boasting “cattle property” and drove through an elaborate gate. From the top of the gateposts swung a large iron cattle-brand emblem and the words Beals Ranch.
“Do they raise cows, too?”
“Yup, but the ranch is on the market.”
He guided her to a home that had been oversold by the impressiveness of the gate.
It was a faded yellow farmhouse with a wraparound porch that had seen better days.
And the cement walkway up to the front door could use a power washing.
There were three pickup trucks and a Subaru Forester parked in front of a four-car garage, which seemed excessive given the size of the house.
A couple of kids played on a tire swing that hung from a big oak tree in the side yard. Sawyer waved as he got out of the car. A dog barked from the porch and someone yelled for it to be quiet. An attractive woman about Gina’s age came down the steps and gave Sawyer a hug.
“What a nice surprise.”
“I wanted to talk to your dad about his stock trailer.”
Sawyer introduced the woman—Jill—to Gina. There was something off between them; Gina could feel it right away. She wondered if maybe Jill and Sawyer had dated and the relationship had ended badly. Whatever it was, she sensed a gnawing discomfort between the two.
“Daddy’s on his way home. He should be here any minute.” Jill turned to the kids on the swing. “You guys go wash up. Your father’s coming to get you for lunch at the coffee shop.”
The kids ran up the steps and into the house.
“You want to come in…have something to drink while you wait?”
“Nah,” Sawyer said. “I don’t want to impose.”
“No imposition and it’s hot out here.” She ushered them through the front door.
The inside of the house was as worn as the outside but surprisingly cozy.
Lots of family pictures and braided rugs.
Someone had a penchant for cutesy inspirational signs because they were everywhere.
Bless this house, life is better on the ranch, kiss a cowboy, and chasing cows will be your fate if you don’t shut the gate.
Jill led them to the kitchen, which hadn’t been updated since the eighties: Cream-tile countertops, oak cabinets, and white appliances. Still, the room exuded warmth. Gina could tell a lot of happy family meals had been prepared in here.
“You want a soda, juice, or lemonade?” Jill asked.
“Ice water is fine.” Sawyer was being polite but not friendly.
Gina planned to ask him about it when they left.
“Do you live around here, Gina?” Jill asked and Gina wanted to kick Sawyer for using her real name. The good news was Jill didn’t seem to recognize her, not in Gina’s hat and glasses.
“Just visiting for the day.” Gina waited for the inevitable follow-up questions—Oh yeah, what brings you to Dry Creek? Where you from? Aren’t you that bimbo celebrity chef who slept with Danny Clay?—but Jill just nodded. It struck Gina that maybe Jill thought she was Sawyer’s girlfriend.
Gina would’ve disabused Jill of that notion, but it was actually a good cover.
Jill brought them each a glass of water and motioned for them to take a seat at the round oak table in the breakfast nook. There was a sliding glass door half-covered in dog and little-hand smudge marks that looked out onto a garden.
“Is your dad selling to Mitch?” Sawyer asked.
The question had been delivered bluntly and Gina heard an undertone of…something. Anger, maybe. There was a strange undercurrent going on here that she couldn’t read. Another thing to ask him about later.
“They’re in negotiations,” Jill said and let her eyes drop to her feet. “Brett’s on his way over to spend some time with the kids. I think he’s planning to hang out with Jace later, but I know he’d love to see you.”
Gina got the sense Jill was trying to change the subject with her abrupt non sequitur about Brett. She assumed Brett must be Jill’s ex and that Jill didn’t want to discuss the sale of her family’s ranch, which was probably emotional.
Gina watched Sawyer, trying to figure out what was going on here. He definitely didn’t like Jill, who seemed perfectly nice to Gina.