Cowboy Strong. Stacy Finz

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СКАЧАТЬ cottage. The now-vacant log cabin used to be his cousin Cash’s and every time Sawyer saw the broken steps, the sagging porch and the screen door that hung on one hinge, he hummed a few bars of “Dueling Banjos.”

      “Welcome home.” He reached across her lap and swung open the passenger-seat door.

      “You’re kidding?” She squirmed. “You’re punking me for calling you a bloodsucker, aren’t you?”

      “I’m not that petty.” The heat hit him the second he jumped down from the cab. Hopefully, Cash had left the old swamp cooler in the cabin when he and his daughter, Ellie, moved across the creek.

      “Watch your step, now.” He waited for her to trail him up the rickety stairs, found the key under the mat, and held the door open for her.

      “Uh-uh, I’m not going in there first.” She waved her hand over the threshold for him to take the lead.

      He went inside and flicked on a light. To air the place out—it stunk of dead animals—he opened a few windows.

      There wasn’t much to the cabin. Just one large space that made up the living room, kitchen, and eating nook. Off a narrow hallway there were two bedrooms and a bathroom. The smaller of the two bedrooms had been decorated in pink and white stripes when Ellie had come to live with Cash. The rest of the cabin was a depressing beige, although some of the walls were made from rough-hewn logs.

      “Can’t beat the views,” he said and gazed out the window. “You can fish right off the front porch.”

      “Or die.”

      Even if the porch appeared to be held together with a piece of chewing gum, it was safe. “It’s been here for a hundred years; it’s not going anywhere.”

      She lifted her chin and locked eyes with him. “Sotheby’s called and said to tell you you’re fired.”

      Sawyer ignored her. “It’s also furnished.” He motioned at a dun-colored sofa that he was pretty sure Cash had found on the side of the road somewhere.

      “Restoration Hardware or Pottery Barn?” She folded her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw so tight Sawyer thought she might crack a molar. “I can’t possibly stay here.”

      The cabin might not be the Palace of Versailles, but it was certainly livable. Cash and his now thirteen-year-old had managed here just fine. All it needed was a good scrubbing and, depending on how long she planned to stay, Ms. FoodFlicks Star with the stick up her ass could afford to buy herself some decent furniture on the internet.

      He brushed by her and hauled her luggage inside. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack and get settled. Just holler if you need anything.”

      He was making his way down the front-porch stairs when a Louis Vuitton cosmetic bag sailed past his head and landed in the dirt. “You cannot leave me here. This place…this dump…it should be condemned.”

      He pointed across the creek to another cabin. Unlike Gina’s, that cabin had graced the pages of Sunset Magazine and Country Living. “My cousin and his wife and kid live there. Aubrey’s an interior decorator. For the right price, she’ll hook you up.” Sawyer kept walking.

      “Why do you hate me?”

      He stopped and turned around to face her. “I don’t hate you, I don’t even know you. But to be real honest, you haven’t made the best impression. You seem pretty damn self-entitled, if you ask me. This isn’t a resort: It’s a working cattle ranch. And I’m not your servant. The only reason you’re still here is because I love my mother. She’s a pain in the ass, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

      She started to respond and he held up his hands. “I haven’t slept in three days. I’m going home now. If you need your car—which, by the way, prevents me from parking in my own garage—just follow the dirt road we took to get here. There’s a grocery store and a coffee shop in Dry Creek, thirteen miles from here off the highway, when you get hungry.”

      He got in his Range Rover, discovered he’d hit that point where he was too exhausted to sleep, and headed to Jace’s ranch house instead. Sawyer was greeted with a snout in his crotch by Sherpa, Jace’s Australian shepherd. Scout, the other mutt, rolled on his back for a belly scratch. Sawyer obliged, then let himself in the back door.

      “Anyone home?” The house was unusually quiet.

      “In here,” Jace called from his study.

      Sawyer found him behind his desk, staring at a spreadsheet. He sank into the sofa. “Where is everyone? And what are you working on?”

      “Ranch expenses.” Jace looked up from his paperwork and rubbed his hand down his face. “Charlie’s with Aubrey at a flea market. Travis and Grady are at friends. How was your trip?”

      “Good, until I got home.”

      Jace laughed. “Your mom called. I know all about your houseguest. I never heard of her, but Charlie and Aubrey went nuts. They say she’s a big deal. Has a cooking show, huh?”

      “Yep, or rather she had a cooking show.”

      Jace nodded. “Though your ma didn’t get into too many details, it was clear this DeRose woman is on the tabloids’ shit list.”

      “She’s probably on everyone’s shit list. Have you met her yet?”

      Jace jerked his head in surprise. “Last night for a few minutes, after I gave her the key to your place. She seemed more than pleasant. Friendly, self-deprecating. Likes dogs.”

      Sawyer didn’t think they were talking about the same person. “That must’ve been her nicer twin. I moved her to Cash’s old cabin. Hope you’re okay with that.”

      “It’s vacant.” Jace hitched his shoulders. “Better her than varmints.”

      Sawyer leaned back on the couch. “I’m not so sure about that. Unlike you, I had a different experience. Only thirty minutes in her presence and I already can’t stand her.”

      Jace chuckled. “How long is she staying?”

      “I’ve got no idea. I guess until her troubles blow over and there’s a new celebrity scandal for the public to obsess over. As long as she keeps out of my way, I don’t care.”

      Sawyer bobbed his head at Jace’s spreadsheet. “You figure out how to pay for this place yet?”

      The Daltons had always been cattle ranchers. But when the drought came, Grandpa Dalton had been forced to cull the herd. Now, Sawyer and his two cousins ran about a hundred head. The income it generated wasn’t enough to cover the expenses of the taxes, insurance, and upkeep on 500 acres. Their goal this summer was to find sustainable ways the ranch could bring in more money.

      “Working on it,” Jace said. “A lot will depend on how well Charlie and Aubrey’s home goods store and design studio does. If the business takes off and brings traffic to the ranch, we’ll have a better chance of leasing out space to other shops.”

      Sawyer wasn’t thrilled with the idea. He didn’t want a business park on the unspoiled land that had been in the Dalton family for four generations. But he supposed it was СКАЧАТЬ