Название: Cowboy Strong
Автор: Stacy Finz
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Dry Creek Ranch
isbn: 9781516109289
isbn:
Impressive.
An entertainment magazine had gotten hold of her and Danny’s text messages and had plastered screenshots of them, including a picture of Danny’s dick, all over the internet.
Who the hell did that? Sawyer had sexted a time or two, or even three. Especially when he was away on assignment and in the throes of a new relationship. Who hadn’t? But why would anyone on God’s green earth commemorate his junk in a picture and then hit the send button?
Hey, here’s a shot of my penis. Wish you were here.
What Sawyer did know was that the dick pic and the texts, which he’d read and were pretty raunchy, weren’t going to play well with the ChefAid suits.
Not well at all.
Sawyer’s mother had her work cut out for her. And Gina would have to continue hiding here, coming in and out of his house like it was a revolving door. He wasn’t too thrilled about that, but at least he’d eat well.
He checked the oven to make sure the lamb wasn’t burning. The whole house smelled like Moroccan spices, which for some reason reminded him of Christmas. Maybe it was the cinnamon. The aroma made his mouth water and his stomach growl. He didn’t know whether the couscous was overcooking, but decided to leave it alone.
“Can you freaking believe this?” Gina came back into the kitchen, waving her phone in the air.
“I learned a long time ago to never put anything in writing that you didn’t want people to see. Privacy is a myth.”
She started to say something and seemed to reconsider. Then, because she had to have the last word, said, “You would know, being a professional bloodsucker.”
“According to those text messages, I’m not the only one who’s sucking, if you know what I mean.”
She flipped him off and turned to the stove. “The couscous is going to taste like mush.”
“Was that my mom on the phone?” He returned to his seat at the island.
She let out a breath. “My agent, my manager, my assistant. Cynthia Grossman, my publicist, who I’m about to fire.”
“What’d she do?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem.”
Sawyer laughed, though what was she supposed to do? The texts spoke for themselves. “How do you think they leaked out?”
“Obviously not from me.”
There was nothing obvious about it. Anyone who had access to her phone, which he assumed her staff did, could be the culprit, but he didn’t say anything. Surely someone in her position was smart enough to realize that. “So you think it came from Danny Clay, huh?”
“That would be…I have no idea. All I know is someone is out to get me.”
Sawyer had to keep from rolling his eyes. Wasn’t that just like a narcissist? She has an affair with another woman’s husband, yet someone was out to get her? What a piece of work.
“What?” She squinted her eyes at him.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You don’t have to. I can hear your judgment from here.”
He stood up and leaned his hip against the counter. “Yeah, what am I thinking, then?”
“That I’m a terrible person. But you don’t know the first thing about me.”
“Nope.” Nor did he want to—too much to unpack, he thought, as his eyes did a covert slide down her body. “Hey, I’m staying in my lane. No judgment.” Which wasn’t altogether true.
“Good, because you don’t have a clue of what’s going on here.”
A lot of bumping and grinding, according to her texts. Hell, she’d sounded like a veritable sex machine.
Really, he didn’t know why he was even getting involved. He wrote about peoples’ problems for a living, he didn’t need to do it in his spare time. But something about her made him want to figure her out. She was like the Saturday New York Times crossword puzzle, a challenge. And there was nothing Sawyer loved more than a challenge. Even one who was a full-time pain in the ass.
They wound up eating her lamb tagine between phone calls and temper tantrums. He could only imagine how she must’ve reacted to the photo, which he’d finally gotten around to searching on the internet. It had been your typical paparazzi wide-lens beach shot. Grainy but clear enough to make out Gina and Danny having a good time. The photo wasn’t as salacious as the texts, but it was provocative enough to leave no doubt that the subjects were involved romantically.
Gina cleaned up her dishes and went home, leaving him enough leftovers to last the week. Not such a bad deal. He considered calling his mother and getting her take on Gina’s situation, but it would probably be hopeless. Dalton and Associates had a strict confidentiality policy when it came to their clients, as they should.
Instead, he went over the notes he’d taken from interviewing a woman who’d lived on the commune with Angie in New Mexico to see if he’d missed anything.
Five years ago, his sister, Angela, had dropped off the edge of the earth. Angie had always been unreliable, jumping on every cause known to mankind, joining up with fringe groups and traveling to remote areas, living a nomad’s life. High-risk? Maybe. But his sister lived by her own rules. It wasn’t uncommon for her to disappear for a while, then reemerge a few months later.
But not this time. This time, she’d completely ghosted them, which was so out of character for her that they’d assumed something terrible had happened.
He and his parents had filed missing person reports, hired private investigators, and offered large monetary rewards for any information that would unravel the mystery, without any success.
Then, a few months ago, Sawyer had gotten good information that Angie had been living on a commune in Taos, New Mexico. He continued to plumb the lead but so far had come up dry.
In June, he’d met a woman from the commune who was now living in Santa Fe. But she’d been reticent to talk. It was almost as if she was afraid of something or somebody. She’d been visibly uncomfortable throughout the entire interview, which told Sawyer she knew more than she was saying.
He was considering taking another stab at her, but had a sinking feeling it was hopeless.
He’d lost count of how many times he or his parents had dropped everything to hop on a plane or get in a car and chase down another fruitless tip.
“Hey,” came Jace’s voice from the bottom of the stairs. “Anyone home?”
“Come up.” Sawyer quickly flipped his reporter’s notebook closed. His cousins were of the opinion that Sawyer should stop turning his life upside down every time a private investigator found a trail to follow.
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