Cowboy Strong. Stacy Finz

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СКАЧАТЬ this chair. But for right now there was more to see. She got to her feet and didn’t know where to look first. “Everything is so original…and lovely. How do you both know how to do this?”

      “I don’t,” Aubrey said. “I’m an interior designer. Charlie’s the creative one with all the vision.”

      “Don’t let Aubrey kid you. She has an eye like you wouldn’t believe. Together we make an awesome team.” Charlie’s entire face lit up and her passion for her work—for this business—was palpable.

      When was the last time Gina lit up like that while doing her show? So long ago, she couldn’t even remember.

      “So did the two of you know each other before you met Cash and Jace?”

      “Nope. Aubrey lived here first with Cash and Ellie. I came later.” Charlie let out a nervous laugh. “I was escaping an abusive relationship. Jace and his sons took me in. But that’s old news.” She brushed it away, clearly not wanting to talk about that part of her life. Gina didn’t press. “Anyway, I used to own a successful store in San Francisco, started trolling garage sales here and refurbishing pieces. Word got out, mostly thanks to Aubrey, who had lots of clients looking to furnish second homes. And little by little customers started showing up at the barn, where I’d set up a workshop, to purchase pieces.”

      “Our aesthetics…well, it’s like we were separated at birth, we’re so in sync.” Aubrey gave Charlie a squeeze. “It only made sense for us to team up. Build on what Charlie had already started at the ranch. The rest is history.”

      “How does it work?” Gina asked. “People come here to shop or do you and Aubrey go to people’s homes?”

      “Both,” Aubrey said. “At least, that’s how we hope it works out. We’re still in the infancy stage, but the plan is that I use Charlie’s pieces in my design work and that Charlie’s clients use me to put together entire rooms or design their remodels.”

      “Wouldn’t you be better off in town?” How would anyone find them in the middle of nowhere?

      “Our goal is to lure people to Dry Creek Ranch. The ranch is our inspiration and we think it can be our clients’ inspiration too,” Aubrey said.

      It was actually a brilliant branding strategy, Gina thought. Consumers these days liked the backstory on their products. Charlie and Aubrey had such a sweet and genuine narrative to tell.

      She could see the tagline now: Home is where the heart is and that’s Dry Creek Ranch. Or: Home on the range. Gina could think of a dozen catchy slogans off the top of her head. Maybe use the ranch’s horseshoe brand on all their labels, she mused. It was really quite innovative.

      “And you think people will come this far out?” she asked.

      “We do.” Charlie nodded. “Especially if we make the ranch part of the Sierra foothills experience. Of course, we’ll have to offer more than just a home furnishings store and design studio to make Dry Creek Ranch a destination.”

      “Like what?” Gina was curious.

      “Perhaps a country mercantile, a farm stand, a bakery, even a florist,” Aubrey said. “We’re still working out the details but we have plans. Big plans.”

      Gina liked the spirit of it, but Dry Creek Ranch was pretty off the beaten track. Turning it into a destination would need more than a few cutesy country stores. Maybe a theme park, like Knott’s Berry Farm, but her gut told her Sawyer and his cousins would never go for that.

      Who would?

      “Why do you want to turn it into a destination?” Gina had gotten the impression that the Daltons only cared about raising cattle. At least that’s how Sawyer had made it sound when he’d snidely pointed out that the ranch wasn’t a resort.

      Thanks, Captain Obvious.

      Charlie exchanged a glance with Aubrey and let out a breath. Clearly, they were deliberating on what or what not to say. For all intents and purposes she was a stranger, after all.

      “We’d like the ranch to bring in more money,” Aubrey finally said, trying to sound as if it wasn’t critical, which only made Gina think it was.

      “Money’s good.” She gave a nonchalant shrug. The Daltons’ finances were their business, not hers. And currently she was the last person to give advice.

      She ran her hand over a cowhide ottoman to see if it was genuine, which of course it was, and moved on to a sofa that was upholstered in a complementary fabric to the club chair.

      “How hard would it be to move all these pieces to the cabin?” She waved her hand at the collection. If she was going to be here for a few weeks she might as well furnish the place in stuff she loved, instead of the whole homeless encampment theme the former tenant had going on.

      “Not hard,” Charlie said. “I could borrow Jace’s truck and between all of us we could carry everything.”

      Gina rummaged through her wallet for her gold card. “Let’s do it.”

      A few hours later, she sat in her new living room, admiring the changes. They’d managed to heft the old sofa into Jace’s truck for a dump run. The cabin still suffered from neglect and someone’s love of dirty beige. But the couch, chair, and ottoman were fabulous.

      At two, she loaded her BMW and made the short drive to Sawyer’s. As usual, the front door was unlocked and she let herself in, hugging a boneless lamb shoulder and a bag of groceries.

      Sawyer sat at the center island with his laptop. He lifted his gaze as she came in and went back to whatever he was doing.

      She scanned the kitchen. “Do you have a tagine?”

      “I left my last one in Morocco.” He rolled his eyes.

      “How ’bout a Dutch oven?” She didn’t wait for him to answer and searched his cabinets, finding a nine-quart Le Creuset pot. “This’ll work.”

      He shut the laptop and peered at her over his coffee mug. “What’s for dinner?”

      “Spiced lamb tagine with couscous and a chickpea salad.” She found a cutting board in one of the drawers, put it on the counter, and eyed his plaid Carhartt short-sleeved shirt. “I see you have clothes on today.”

      “Disappointed?”

      The truth? Yes. He had lots of faults—crabby personality, for one—but the man had an extremely fine chest. Broad, bronzed, and cut. The rest of him wasn’t too shabby, either. Thick dark hair that begged for fingers, blue eyes that reminded her of a trip she’d taken to the Aegean Sea, and a body that was made for sin. Okay, she’d ripped that last line off from Working Girl, but it definitely applied to Sawyer.

      “Not on your life, bucko.”

      “Bucko?” He arched a brow, then turned his attention to the groceries she was spreading out on the countertop. “For the tagine, I presume. Didn’t know you did Middle Eastern food.”

      “Just playing around with some new ideas.” For her show, everything had to be Italian, so it was nice to try something else for a change. Then there was the fact that there was nothing СКАЧАТЬ