Chapter 12
Gina woke to pounding on her door. In her sleep-induced haze, she glanced at her cell phone on the nightstand. It was seven in the flipping morning. She’d fallen into her own bed about three, after she’d left Sawyer’s.
Who the hell came calling this early in the morning?
She pulled the blanket over her head, hoping that if she ignored the knocking whoever it was would go away. But the banging just got closer. It sounded as if someone was tapping on her bedroom window.
She yanked the covers off, padded across the floor, and pulled the blinds up. A man—a stranger—stood there with a camera lens pointed at her face.
“Gina DeRose, did you get what you want? How do you feel about Candace Clay filing for divorce?” he shouted, snapping a succession of pictures.
She flinched, then jerked the blinds closed. Scooping up her phone, she ran to the bathroom and hid in the tub.
“Please answer, please answer,” she prayed aloud as she hit Sawyer’s number. It made more sense to call Aubrey and Cash. They were just across the creek. And Cash was law enforcement. But Sawyer was press. He’d know how to deal with the bloodsucking leech.
“Morning,” he answered on the second ring, sounding more chipper than anyone had a right to this early. And after what they’d done all night. “Didn’t you get enough last night?”
“A tabloid photographer is outside my window,” she whispered.
“What? I can’t hear you.”
She repeated herself, raising her voice just a fraction, afraid the person outside would hear her. Which was ridiculous. He’d seen her. He knew she was here.
“On my way,” he said. “Until then, don’t go outside.”
She considered crawling out of the tub back to her bedroom.
Still in sleep shorts and a tank top, she’d like to at least put on a bra.
Run a comb through her tangles. But she didn’t budge, fearful that the man would capture her on camera, streaking down the hallway like a lunatic.
She could already see the headlines: Insane Celebrity Chef Lives in Old Unabomber Cabin.
How the hell had he found her?
She shot Wendy a text, giving her a heads-up. At some point today, there’d be pictures of her with crazy hair all over the internet. Outside, she heard a commotion and climbed out of the clawfoot to see what was going on.
She stood on the toilet seat to peer outside the window. Cash had the photographer pinned against a tree. Sawyer must’ve called him.
A short time later, Sawyer joined Cash. She hadn’t heard his Range Rover and suddenly remembered that it was still at the mechanic’s. He must’ve run the whole way.
She dashed to her bedroom, changed into a bra and T-shirt, slipped on her new cowboy boots, and flew out the back door.
“Who the hell do you think you are—?”
Sawyer cut her off at the pass. “We’ve got it under control.” He held up the memory card from the digital camera, which was currently in Cash’s hand. “Jace is on his way.”
“You hurt my camera and I’ll sue you,” the man bellowed. “You don’t have a right to take people’s equipment.”
Sawyer looked up at the sky as if he was praying for patience. Then he turned to the man and in a voice that was surprisingly calm said, “Come on, you were trespassing and staring into a woman’s window like a freaking Peeping Tom.”
“I’m just trying to make a living.” The photographer stared at Gina and started to say something, but Sawyer held up his hand.
“Don’t even think about it. The sheriff is on his way to deal with you.” He looked at Cash and said, “Give him his camera.”
“I need my goddamn memory card back, that’s what I need,” the photographer yelled. “It’s my property. You have no right to keep it. If you don’t give it back you’ll hear from my lawyers.”
“By all means, tell them to give us a call.” Sawyer grasped Gina’s shoulders, turned her around, and told her to go back inside the cabin.
“Not until he tells me how he found me.” She put her hands on her hips. “Who told you where I was?”
“I’m not divulging my sources.” He jutted his chin at her.
Gina hoped that Laney or Jimmy Ray hadn’t sold her out. But someone had. How else had he found her?
“You want a story? An exclusive? Then tell me who your source is,” she demanded.
Sawyer took her by the arm and dragged her to the front of the cabin. “The guy’s a bottom-feeder. Don’t bargain with him. When you have an exclusive to tell, you’ll give it to a reputable news organization. This guy is a stringer. He’ll sell whatever you give him to the highest bidder.”
She let out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If he found me, others will too.” She’d have to leave and find a new place to hide. She didn’t want to go. Not now. Not when she…she just didn’t want to have to leave.
“We’ll lock the gate,” Sawyer said.
A locked gate was the last thing they needed while they were trying to get Charlie and Aubrey’s business off the ground. A business that relied on visitors.
They looked up as Jace’s sheriff’s SUV bounced along the rutted road, stopping short of the front porch.
He stuck his head out the window and let his Oakleys slip down his nose. “Where is he?”
“Around back,” Sawyer said.
Jace hopped out of the cab in full sheriff’s gear: badge, holster, gun, the whole nine yards. Gina had never seen him in uniform before. He was hot in jeans and a flannel shirt. In the uniform, he was smoking. Not as good-looking as Sawyer, but Charlie was a lucky woman. Aubrey too.
“Is he mad at me?” Gina whispered as Jace crossed the yard to the rear of the house. She’d brought this upon them. Besides having someone invade his private ranch, Jace had better things to do with his time than chasing some jackass with a camera off his property.
“Nah, that’s his cop scowl. He reserves it for trespassers.” Sawyer maneuvered her onto the porch. “What did the photographer say to you?”
“Nothing really. He pounded on the door first, then came to the window. I opened the blinds to see who it was and he started snapping pictures.” She scanned the area, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t seen a car. “How did he get here?”
“Probably parked on Dry Creek Road and hiked in.”
“Oh God, you don’t think he was here all night?” The idea of a stranger creeping around in the trees while she was in the cabin alone gave her the willies.
“I doubt it. Why wait until morning to knock? Better to hit-and-run before he got caught and thrown off the property.”
Sawyer made a good point. “Is that how you do it?” she asked just to be snarky. It was kind of a rotten thing to say, especially after he’d flown to her rescue.
“I call ahead, make an appointment.” His lips ticked up. “And if that doesn’t work I go in for an ambush.”
She didn’t know whether he was joking. But somehow she didn’t see Sawyer skulking around someone’s house, hiding in their azalea bushes.
He was more Robert Redford in All the President’s Men, following the money.
Not some skeevy guy with a paunch and suspenders, stalking celebrities with a big-ass camera lens while they slept.
Jace brought the skeevo around front and started to load him into the back seat of his vehicle.
“Last chance to give your side of the story,” the photographer told Gina, then nudged his cuffed hands at Jace. “Here, give her my business card.”
“No can do,” Jace said and pushed the camera guy’s head down so he wouldn’t hit it on the door.
After Jace drove away, Cash went home.
“You want coffee?” she asked Sawyer, who looked like he’d been up for hours: clean-shaven and dressed in his usual jeans, T-shirt, Stetson, cowboy boots.
“Yep.” He led the way into the cabin and hung his hat on a wall hook that had been there before she’d moved in.
“I guess Candace is going through with it…She’s really divorcing Danny.”
“You already knew that. Why? Did the photographer say something? Because you know divorce filings are public record, right?”
“I know. Candace also put out a statement.” Just the same, hearing the prowler yell it at her with such vitriol…
well, she felt guilty, like it was her fault.
“I’d hoped to talk to her, convince her that this whole thing is ridiculous.
I’m really tempted to call Danny. Maybe there’s still time to fix this. ”
Sawyer put his hand on her shoulder. “If her own husband can’t convince her of his innocence, how do you expect to?
I don’t know anything about the state of their marriage, but let’s put it this way: I believed you and we’ve only known each other a few weeks.
What does that say about the Clays? As far as talking to them: Like I said yesterday, nothing good can come of it. ”
Gina let out a frustrated sigh. “I want my life back, Sawyer. I want the Clays to have their lives back. And him”—she nudged her head outside to where the intruder had been driven off by Jace—“he won’t be the last member of the paparazzi to show up at Dry Creek Ranch.
Mark my words. They’re like roaches. There’s never just one. ”
He rubbed his chin and sat at the kitchen peninsula. It was really too narrow for stools but Gina had stuck two she’d picked up on there anyway. She flicked the switch on her fancy new coffee grinder.
When the noise from the grinder stopped, Sawyer said, “You need to call my mom today. Fill her in on your morning visitor.”
She’d already planned to, though it left a sour feeling in her stomach. Wendy would undoubtedly find Gina new accommodations. For everyone involved, including Gina, it was the right thing to do. But leaving Dry Creek Ranch…she had friends here.
And there was Sawyer, also a friend. But something more complicated than that.
“I texted her as soon as I found the bloodsucker in my yard. But you’re right, I should tell her everything that happened.”
“You can call her while we go to pick up my Range Rover,” he said.
“Okay.” She scooped the ground coffee into the machine, filled the reservoir with water, and turned on the switch. “You want breakfast?”