Riding High

by Stacy Finz

  “Excuse me, what did you say your name was?”

  He laughed and that too . . . well, he just seemed so nice. “You heard right. Toad. It’s an old nickname that just stuck. I’m an investigator here. Hey, I was thinking of buying my nephew a couple of shares of Gamer Guy stock for his birthday. Thought he’d get a kick out of it. Safe bet, right?”

  She shook her head. “The company’s way overinflated. How old is he?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Get him Disney stock. It’s a much better bet.”

  “Disney, huh?” He scratched his chin.

  “Good revenue growth and solid stock price performance.” She was just thrilled that someone was asking her opinion as opposed to clutching their purse like she’d steal it.

  “Really? I hadn’t thought of Disney. I’ll buy a few shares today.”

  “Wait until tomorrow and buy in the middle of the day; less volatile.”

  “Hey, thanks.” Toad eyed the conference room. “He shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “I’m in no rush.”

  “You staying around here?”

  “Not here, three hours away.”

  He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “You’re gonna hit rush hour, which around here isn’t pretty.”

  She shrugged. There was nothing she could do about it. Perhaps she’d kill time getting dinner.

  “I’ve got to take off, but it was nice meeting you. And thanks for the advice.”

  “Nice meeting you too, Toad.” She felt awkward saying his name. Toad.

  “Hopefully I’ll be seeing you around.”

  Hopefully not. After today she wanted to have as little to do with Flynn Barlow as possible. Instead of being rude, Gia simply nodded. Toad said goodbye to Doris and left. Gia busied herself staring at her phone, reading her personal emails. These days it was mostly her mother who wrote.

  A short time later, Flynn and his client came out of the conference room. Flynn walked him to the door and shook his hand. Gia had to say he seemed very professional, not the cocky, loose-limbed, smart-mouthed cowboy who’d helped himself to her shower.

  He walked over to Doris’s desk, said something Gia couldn’t hear, and directed her to follow him into his office. It was even nicer than the reception area. There was a large mahogany desk and two upholstered wing chairs on one side of the room and a tufted leather sofa and a cowhide rug on the other. Bookshelves filled with law tomes lined the walls and there were photographs of Flynn and people she didn’t know.

  “What’s up, Gia?” He actually had the nerve to sound annoyed.

  “What’s up is that you lied to me.” She squinted across the big desk at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that you used to be an FBI agent?”

  “First off, I didn’t lie to you. I’m under zero obligation to provide you with my résumé.”

  “So you can just come on my property whenever you want and spy on me for the feds?”

  “Spy on you? For an educated woman you say some truly stupid things. I’m a criminal defense attorney, Gia. You think I’d have a practice like this”—he spread his arms wide—“if I was still working for the government, acting as its informant? You think that would instill a lot of faith in my clients, especially the ones accused of tax evasion, embezzlement, and money laundering?”

  “You said you were an estate lawyer. Another lie.”

  “It’s not a lie. I help ranchers, farmers, and vineyard owners with their succession plans; it’s a large part of my practice. You think you might be overreacting again, like you did when you found me in your shower? It seems to be a habit with you. You’re irrational.”

  Well, he’d be irrational too if his ex had turned his life upside down. “Forgive me if I have trust issues these days.”

  “You’re forgiven.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a sardonic grin, accentuating the cleft in his chin.

  “No matter what I do it seems to make very little difference. Despite the fact that a federal grand jury couldn’t find one iota of wrongdoing on my part, I’m still being investigated. I’ve lost my livelihood and I get threats, even though I was a victim of Evan’s scam too. I moved to seclusion to avoid all that. Now I find out that you were once part of the agency that has made my life a living hell. An agency I have come to detest and distrust with every fiber of my body.”

  “I no longer work for the Bureau and wasn’t an agent when they first started investigating you. So your blame is misguided. Do you know where Laughlin is?” He quickly held up his hands. “Don’t tell me. But if you do, you could probably make it all go away . . . with the right lawyer.”

  Why do people keep asking me that? “I don’t,” she said, despite his warning. “If I did, I’d find him and ring his thick neck.”

  “Look, you have nothing to fear from me.” He eyed her handbag. “You have a dollar in there?”

  “Probably. Why?”

  “Give it to me.”

  “I will not.”

  “Gia, just give me the goddamned dollar. You’ll be happy you did.”

  She was starting to get where he was going with this and rifled through her wallet until she found a buck.

  He took it and stashed it in his top drawer, then smirked. “Now repeat after me, ‘Thanks for the consultation. Although you’re the most brilliant attorney I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and by far the best-looking, I can’t afford your services.’ ”

  “I absolutely will not.”

  Flynn chuckled. The pompous man liked messing with her. “No need. I’m now officially bound by attorney-client privilege. If I violate it, I get disbarred. You happy?”

  “Definitely about you getting disbarred.”

  He shook his head. “It’s weird because you seem so smart and mature on television.”

  “It’s all an illusion.” Her lips curved up into a tight grin. She felt somewhat mollified by their little exercise. But Evan had made her distrustful . . . okay, and a little paranoid.

  Flynn certainly thought she was unhinged. First by holding a rifle on him and now driving three hours to bitch him out over being a former FBI agent. Even Gia could see where he would think she was unstable. She didn’t used to be like this.

  “You have an attractive office,” she said, trying to sound nice . . . reasonable.

  “Thanks.” He looked at his watch. “You going home tonight?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry about Dude. Dana and Aidan are feeding him.” She’d called Dana on her ride to Sacramento, assuming that by the time she got home it would be past the horses’ dinnertime.

  “The couple getting married?” Flynn asked.

  “Mm-hmm. Dana was my real estate agent. Aidan works for Cal Fire. They’re very reliable.”

  “Two minutes ago you wanted my ass in a sling, now you’re worried about my horse.”

  “I would never take out my frustrations on an innocent animal.”

  “Good to know. But I hired Justin and Cody, Clay’s kids, to start doing it for me next week so I don’t put you out anymore,” he said, his face buried in a file. “Uh, it’s getting late.”

  Gia got to her feet. She certainly knew when she was being dismissed. “Is there a good place to eat around here? Toad said the traffic’s bad. I thought I’d kill some time.”

  “So you met Toad, huh?”

  “Nice guy.”

  “There’s a good Italian place down the block, Mexican two blocks over, and a few good places on J Street. Want me to draw you a map?”

  “I’ll find it.”

  He got up from his desk. “I’ll let you out. Doris probably locked up when she left.”

  At the door Flynn pulled a key from his pocket and turned it in the deadlock. She was halfway down the hall to the elevator when he called to her. “In the evening the neighborhood gets a little sketchy. Give me a second and I’ll walk with you.”

  “I’m from New York, Barlow. I can handle it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just wait for me.”

 
She went back inside while he put on his jacket and grabbed his briefcase.

  “You parked in the lot?”

  “Yes, but I thought I’d walk to the restaurant.”

  “I’ll walk with you. Which one do you want to go to?”

  “How’s the Mexican?”

  “The Italian’s better.”

  “Italian, then.”

  They walked to the end of the block, her heels clicking on the sidewalk. The neighborhood seemed perfectly safe to her. He stopped in front of a place called Don Giovani and opened the door for her. The restaurant was loud and busy. Servers rushing around, bartenders clinking glasses, and patrons standing elbow to elbow in the waiting area.

  “Thanks,” she said. “See you around.”

  He waved to the maître d’. “Tony, you got a table for two?”

  “For you I do.” Tony grinned, grabbed two menus, and showed them to a small booth in the back.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when Tony bustled away to help the next customer.

  “I just realized I’m hungry. All I have at home is two-week-old Chinese food and canned chili. Besides, who’ll walk you back to your car?”

  “Oh please.”

  “Hey, you’re free to get your own table.” Right, in a place packed like a sardine can.

  She let out a sigh of resignation and perused the menu, starved. “What’s good?”

  “Everything. I usually get the chicken parm.”

  She got a salad, the veal piccata, and a glass of Chianti. A whole bottle was more what Gia had in mind, but she had to drive. Flynn got a beer and went with his regular.

  “You live near here?”

  “Not too far.” Way to be vague. Maybe he thought she’d break in and steal the passwords to his bank accounts.

  “Sacramento isn’t as big as I thought it was,” she said.

  “It’s spread out, like the rest of California.”

  “Do you like it . . . Sacramento?”

  “I like the mountains better,” he said and took a drink of his beer. “What made you choose Nugget?”

  “My family visited on our last ski vacation before my father died. It was our first time visiting California.”

  Flynn frowned. “How old were you when he died?”

  “Thirteen.” She took a sip of wine.

  “That must’ve been tough.”

  More ways than he could imagine, Gia thought. “Yep.”

  “You must’ve really loved it to come back all these years later.”

  “Honestly, I could barely remember what it looked like.” But she remembered how secure life had been in that moment in time and how safe and perfect the world had felt on that vacation. Perhaps she was trying to re-create those feelings. “But when I was looking for land, Nugget came up in some of my searches. Unlike most of California, it was affordable.”

  “Why’d you want so much land?” Flynn asked, moving his beer when the food came to make room.

  “I didn’t.” She waited for the server to leave before continuing. “But when I saw Rosser Ranch . . . there’s really no earthly way to explain it . . . it was in my soul. The first thing I’d ever wanted that made me feel desperate to have it, like I knew it was part of my destiny. That probably sounds crazy to you.”

  “You kidding? My family has been ranching for generations . . . we’re all about the land. But you couldn’t have chosen a worse time to buy something so showy.”

  She stopped eating and let out a breath. “I know; boy do I know. Initially I just wanted some acreage and a decent house where I could get away from New York and hide.” Use it as a base to start her residential program and find her center of gravity again. “I set up the T Corporation, hoping to keep the purchase secret.”

  As far as she could tell, the general public still didn’t know about Rosser Ranch, but the feds obviously did.

  “It’s not like I didn’t have assets before Evan and his Ponzi scheme. I owned a four-million-dollar penthouse, a piece of property in upstate New York, and had stock investments.”

  “I don’t think anyone is shocked that you could afford Rosser Ranch. But in the court of public opinion . . . not so good buying a fancy ranch while your boyfriend’s victims are struggling to survive. It’s a little like let them eat cake, you know what I mean?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I know. And believe you me, if I could make the victims whole again, I would.”

  They finished dinner and Flynn walked her to her car. If it wasn’t for the fact that they didn’t trust each other, it would’ve felt like a date. Self-conscious, she found herself staring down at Flynn’s black cowboy boots rather than having to make eye contact. The toes were pointy and the black leather was polished to a high shine. Different from the scuffed ones he wore on the ranch.

  “You sure you want to drive all the way back to Nugget?” The sun had dropped. Gia estimated she had less than an hour left of daylight.

  “I have to be up early. You staying overnight?” On Fridays he usually showed up at the ranch.

  “Yep.” He locked gazes with her while they stood in the gravel lot, next to her car.

  A wave of sexual tension passed through them. After her combative behavior, Gia doubted he’d invite her over to his place. Oddly enough, though, she sensed he was considering it. But just as quickly his body language changed and a chain-link fence went up between them.

  “I’ll wait while you start your car,” he said.

  She should’ve been relieved—the wounds left by Evan hadn’t even scabbed over yet—instead she felt an acute disappointment.

  Chapter 7

  “Flynn, can I ride Dude?” Cody McCreedy asked.

  “Nope. You’ve got your own horse.” Flynn had forgotten to text the kid that he’d be at Rosser Ranch Saturday morning and would feed Dude himself. “Where’s your brother?”

  “We split it. Because I’m a morning guy and Justin’s not, he takes the evening feedings.”

  “Sounds smart.” He paid them $120 a week for the chore. They could do it and divide the money any way they wanted as long as Dude got fed.

  “Emily told me to invite you for supper. We’re having fried chicken and mashed potatoes.”

  “Can’t pass that up.” Cody’s stepmom was a cookbook author, well known in gourmet food circles.

  “She invited Miss Treadwell too. Dinner’s at six. I’ve gotta go now.” He wound up the hose, hopped on his bike, and Flynn watched the boy—he must be a teen by now—fly down the road, bouncing on the ruts.

  He put a saddle on Dude and spent much of the morning following up on the herd. There were a couple new calves in the lower pasture. Everyone, mamas included, looked healthy and happy. He checked the water supply, content that there was plenty. Still, it’d be nice if they got a few spring showers. With the drought, the Sierra remained mighty parched. Not only was it expensive for ranchers, who had to supplement pasture with hay and grain, but it was a fire hazard. It didn’t take much for these wooded mountains to go up in flames when they were as thirsty as kiln-dried timber.

  Riding up and down the hills, looking for strays, he thought about dinner. He’d hoped to steer clear of Gia and might’ve declined the invitation if he’d originally known she was going. It would be rude now. The thing was, he was attracted to her. He couldn’t imagine a man who wouldn’t be. Under normal circumstances he’d go for it . . . for her. But her life came with too many complications.

  When he got back to the barn it was around four. He would’ve liked to have cleaned up before going to the McCreedys and knew the bunkhouses on the property had showers. But because of his and Gia’s first meeting, he was reluctant to use one without her permission. So he sent her a text, even though it would’ve been quicker to just walk to the house, knock on the door, and ask her. She was there; he’d seen her car.

  Cowboy up, he told himself. Yet he leaned against an empty stall and waited for a reply. And waited. Ah, screw it. He hiked down the road, took a turn at the driveway, w
ent up the porch, and rang the bell. A few minutes later he spotted an eye in the peephole, then the door swung open and Gia faced him in a robe and a towel twisted around her head. She smelled like soap and talcum powder and Flynn wondered if she was naked under all those yards of terry cloth.

  “What do I wear to the McCreedys’?” She didn’t bother with hello or how you doing, Flynn? “In Manhattan, on a Saturday night, I’d go with an LBD, always appropriate, always in style. But here . . . I don’t want to look overdressed.”

  “What the hell’s an LBD?”

  She snorted. “Little black dress.”

  He’d like to see her in one of those but shook his head. “Jeans and a blouse.”

  “Really?” She looked disappointed. “How about a shift dress?”

  He didn’t know a shift dress from an LBD. “Sure, just nothing too fussy. They’re ranchers.” Though Emily had moved here from San Francisco after Clay’s first wife had died.

  “You’re going, right?”

  “What, you need me for moral support?”

  “Sort of, yeah.”

  He supposed it wasn’t easy getting to know her new neighbors under the circumstances. “Yeah, I’m going. It’s fried chicken. You mind if I use one of the bunkhouse showers?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Then I’ll see you over there,” he said and started to leave.

  “What time are you getting there?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “Cody said dinner was at six.”

  “Okay, then I’ll see you at six.”

  He went to the barn, got his go-bag from the back of his truck, and trekked over to the bunkhouse to find a shower. The bunkhouse bathrooms were basic, but the water flowed hard and hot. Just what he needed. In a small mirror over the sink, he shaved off the day’s scruff and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a western shirt. Unfortunately, he only had the one pair of boots, but he rubbed them clean and drove over to McCreedy Ranch. A couple of dogs circled his Ford, barking up a storm. Flynn opened the driver’s door and let the dogs sniff him, scratching one behind his ear.

  “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” The pup returned a high-pitched whine of pleasure and followed Flynn to the porch. The other one got distracted by a squirrel.