Chapter Six
Can it wait.
He’d actually said that to her. He’d felt his lips moving.
But Adriana Gallant was digging for dirt on the ranch and its owners and his goal right now was to deflect her. Ryan had warned them the press would show up today, but Dallie and Dan, both new to money and not understanding what the fuss was about, had laughed off the idea. This was Montana. There were other, and larger, ranch operations. Why would anyone care about theirs?
The answer, of course, was they didn’t. The real story had to be Ryan. While Adriana might know his name, an internet search would have netted her nothing. His past was a tightly sealed secret. And that would have been enough to bring out the bloodhound in her.
But telling Adriana flat out that their third partner was none of her business would be like pouring gasoline on himself and striking a match. When Mara Ramos McGregor first came to Grand, she’d been as down on her luck as it was possible to get and yet Adriana hadn’t shown her one ounce of compassion. Dan had been trying to decide how best to let her know the interview was over without making things worse when Jazz, with her bright blond, pixie-cut hair and long, athletic limbs, parted the crowd and burst forth like an angel, and his train of thought bounced off the tracks. She’d offered him the perfect escape.
A little too perfect.
He had no clue as to what had inspired her to come to his rescue. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t because he’d reeked of the desperation he’d felt. If so, he’d be the butt of Grand’s jokes until something better came along, and since not much ever happened here, that could take months. They were good people but they took their entertainment where they could find it.
Unreadable eyes fixed on his.
“No. It can’t,” Jazz murmured. She sounded calm enough, but it could be a front. With women, one never knew.
“Thank you, Jazz. I’m sorry, Ms. Gallant,” he said to the other woman, “but I’m going to have to put an end to our interview.”
The reporter, however, had already picked up on a new angle for her story and wasn’t about to let it fly by.
“Jazz… What an interesting name. And who might you be?” she inquired.
“My girlfriend,” Dan interjected, at the exact same time Jazz said, “An employee.” The cameraman got an up-close shot of Jazz’s start of surprise.
Adriana looked at Dan. Her eyebrows hiked into her hairline. “Would you two like to take a moment and discuss it?”
“She’s both,” Dan said.
“Really?” Adriana took in Jazz’s simple dress and flip-flops in a way that spoke louder than words. “Do you have a last name, honey?”
Dan’s insides shifted location. If a woman had scrutinized Andy in that manner, and then called herhoneyin that tone of voice, their body would never be found. All Jazz said was “Yes,” and left it at that.
But her cheeks had gone pink, so she was rattled, and he didn’t like it. If Adriana was trying to insinuate that she lacked the money and style a billionaire’s girlfriend would require, she was way off the mark. The truth was, Jazz looked fresh and pretty and, honestly, way out of his league.
He debated telling Adriana that Jazz was a smokejumper and shift the interview over to her—because, come on, that was a far more impressive story than three guys who’d been handed money—but to paraphrase a line fromGuardians of the Galaxy, he might be an asshole but he wasn’t a one-hundred-percent dick. It was time to get them both the heck out of Dodge.
“Thank you for coming all the way to Grand to check out the Endeavour Ranch,” he said to Adriana and her cameraman, who was beginning to look slightly less bored. “You’re welcome to stay for the entertainment, but right now, you’ll have to excuse us.”
He placed a hand on Jazz’s back and nudged her toward the house. His fingers spanned her narrow waist and soaked up the heat of her skin through her dress. The crowd parted for them. His hand remained on the small of her back as he propelled her around the corner of the house. He nodded and spoke a few words to anyone who greeted him along the way.
He didn’t, however, slow down until they were through the front door. He needed a private space to decompress.
The Endeavour’s main building was really three houses in one. The central area was communal space. It held a lounge for entertaining, a large office occupied mostly by Ryan, and a washroom for guests. A door to the left led to Ryan’s private living space. Dallie’s door was opposite the main entrance, through the lounge. Dan’s was to his right, facing Ryan’s.
He thrust his door open and propelled Jazz into his living room. The interior designer had filled it with brown leather furniture, artwork from some famous Montana painter he’d never heard of, and vases upon vases of flowers. He kind of liked it, and kind of felt overwhelmed and afraid to touch anything when he was in it. He definitely didn’t dare rearrange it.
Through a partially closed, sliding barn door, he heard his mother and his sister Kirstin rustling about in a kitchen roughly the size of his entire county sheriff’s office. What he was supposed to do with a kitchen that size he had no idea. Maybe he’d bring his barbecue inside. Steaks, he could handle.
He didn’t want to see his mother or sisters right now. They’d hardly be sympathetic and would have too many questions—mostly for Jazz. He seized her hand and dragged her into a hallway off the living room, then through another one of the incessant doors in this confounded place. He closed it behind them and leaned against it, clenching his eyelids tightly shut in relief and soaked up the peace and quiet.
The bedroom was large, but not intimidatingly so. Not like the kitchen. Patio doors filled one wall. The doors led to a private garden and sitting area where he could drink his morning coffee if he chose, or if he had time. He’d drawn the curtains closed earlier that morning so that anyone wandering the garden couldn’t see in. This was the only room in the entire house that felt like his. Here, he could think.
“I just need a few minutes,” he said.
Jazz maintained her silence until finally, he opened his eyes.