Charlie Grace pulled the wrapper down a little and took another bite, chewing while she answered. “He’s with that production company. I found out they’re filming at the Aspen River Ranch in Wilson.”
“Ah, that confirms it, then. I heard a rumor that the new series would be located there. A very reliable source…Nicola Cavendish. We all know she knows everything.”
They shared a laugh.
“What’s the name of the show? No one seems to have figured that out, not even Nicola.”
Charlie Grace stuffed the empty wrapper in her jeans pocket. “He didn’t say. But, look…I’ve got tons of work still ahead of me, and I need to get back to it. Just wanted to share.”
“Wait, before we hang up, should I warn Jason? He might want to know he has competition.”
The comment irked her. “Oh, stop. It’s nothing like that.”
Capri laughed. “Just tell that to the dozens of people at the Rustic Pine who saw how he looked at you.”
13
It was only a matter of minutes before her phone started alerting her to incoming texts from Reva and Lila. No doubt Capri had immediately contacted them after she’d hung up, and they both wanted to know more about Nick Thatcher.
She slid her thumbs across the tiny keyboard as she headed for the house. “Looks like we don’t need a newspaper in this town.” When she failed to give them any more details, they both urged her to meet them as soon as possible.
“My place,” Reva offered.
“I’ll let you know. Right now, I’m just trying to keep my head above water,” she told them. “And don’t let Capri talk you into crafting some big story in your heads about this guy. I have a boyfriend.”
“And lots of mustard,” came Reva’s quick reply, followed by laughter.
Little had changed since high school. Her girlfriends still got in her business, especially when it came to her love life. Or lack thereof.
Oh, she shouldn’t say that. Jason Griffith was an extremely nice guy…and dependable. He was handsome enough, with a well-groomed appearance and an easy smile, but something was lacking. When he looked at her…well, she felt nothing.
He spoke in a soft voice, never raising it above a polite murmur, and his words were always carefully chosen, never daring to stray into anything too controversial—or interesting. He was agreeable to a fault, always nodding along with her opinions and never offering any of his own. The times she’d tried to engage him and draw out some hidden spark of passion or curiosity, he had remained resolutely bland, content to exist in her presence without ever truly engaging with her.
So why stay with him? The answer was simple. Dating Jason had kept her from being alone. She never had to be the dreaded single girl showing up at dinner parties filled with couples. Jason was a good man, kind and considerate, but he lacked the fire and passion that she craved. She never went to bed at night thinking about him.
Her girlfriends knew her inside out. She might be satisfied with the status quo in her love life…but they were not.
“So, we get that you’re busy,” Reva said. “But here’s the thing, you need some perspective. Plus, you can’t keep us hanging. We’re dying to hear all about your big opening. So, tomorrow night…my place?”
Knowing her friends would never take no for an answer, Charlie Grace gave in. “Okay, okay. Tomorrow night. But I can’t stay long.”
That evening, when it was just about time to gather out at the campfire, Charlie Grace slipped away for a quick shower. She reached for her favorite pair of jeans, then changed her mind, opting instead for a sundress in a cute print and a blue cardigan to ward off the evening chill, the sweater that complemented the lavender blue in her eyes. Next, she slid a pair of open-toe sandals onto her feet before pulling her long, auburn hair back into a ponytail. Her next task was to fasten tiny silver hoop earrings in place.
As a final touch, she spritzed a bit of her favorite cologne across her neck and stood back to inspect the image in the mirror. Satisfied she looked presentable, maybe even a little pretty, she headed out to join the others.
She hadn’t reached the back door when her father’s voice rang out. “Where are you going all dolled up like that?”
“I’m not dolled up,” she argued. “You want to join us for the cookout? Ford is grilling steaks.” She saw the sour look on his face. “Or, I can have Jewel bring you a plate,” she offered.
He waved her off. “Nah, I can fix my own dinner.”
Yes, he could. They had fixed a ramp from the back doorway onto the deck. Even in his wheelchair, her dad could reach the charcoal grill.
“Okay,” she said. Before she moved for the door, she placed a kiss on the top of his head. “There’s a chicken breast in the refrigerator.”
He huffed. “Or, I’ll just eat some oatmeal.”
She held her tongue. If he wanted oatmeal, so be it. “Okay, goodnight, Daddy. Aunt Mo will be in later to help you to bed.”
