Page 15 of A Rancher's Vow
She loved cats. Couldn’t have one growing up, and couldn’t have one now, so cats outside her office were like a business bonus in her books.
A rapid knock on the office door had Charity jumping in her chair. “It’s open.”
Literally.
The woman who floated into the office was beautiful. Jaw droppingly beautiful, in fact. Long blonde hair with perfect waves lay over her shoulder, a silver-white cowboy hat on her head. Her white skin had just enough tan she looked healthy, but not as if she truly spent tons of time outdoors.
Or tons of time using the cowboy gear she wore on her elegant frame. Her boots were also silver-white with high detail embroidery. Lucchese? Fern would know. Expensive, for sure.
Charity hoped the woman didn’t plan on walking the ranch in them, though. Dust was the least of what would coat the pretty things after a round in the arena.
Pale blue cambric shirt, narrow faded blue jeans that clung to a perfect pair of long legs. Charity felt every curve on her own body protest at the idea of being in jeans that tight.
When the woman stopped in front of the desk and pulled off her aviator-style sunglasses, it was to reveal eyes of shockingly bright blue. “Marie Plassier withCowboy Country Living.I have an interview with Dustin Stone. Let him know I’m here.”
Ah. Now it made sense.
Charity rose to her feet. She’d been warned by Tucker about the possibility of unwanted arrivals. The slew of posts that included the hashtags about Dustin had grown when Charity had poked online that morning. “I’m sorry, but there’s been a mistake. Dustin is not giving interviews at this time. If you’d like to have infor—”
The woman laughed, and it was a perfect laugh—if there was such a thing. “No, I believe you’re mistaken. I have the appointment in my calendar. That’s fine. You just don’t worry about me.”
She twisted on one elegant boot and floated out the door.
Damn it all. Charity rounded her desk. “You can’t go out there without a guide, miss. This is a working ranch, and all visitors need to—”
Charity cursed as the woman unexpectedly broke into a run and sprinted for the door that led to the arena. “For Christ’s sake.”
Chase her down? As tempting as it was, Charity was likely to trip the woman and then Silver Stone would end up with negative press. Nope, time to call her backup.
She whipped out her phone and hit the number. “Tucker? Sorry, but some journalist just raced from my office after demanding to do the interview she has with Dustin. She’s in arena one.”
“I see her. Thanks. Hey, do me a favour. Lock every building access from the parking lot, okay?”
“Got it.”
Charity was back in her office in plenty of time to peer out the window and see the woman being escorted to the ranch parking lot by Tucker and Caleb.
Curious, Charity checked theFinderapp. Dustin was safely off riding in the far northeast quarter—what Tamara had called his favourite trail. The only way someone could reach him was if they were on an actual horse.
Content with that knowledge, she finished a few more tasks then gathered a stack of invoices that needed to be signed.
She stepped out of the barn and jerked to a rapid stop. “What?”
The entire driveway and Silver Stone parking lot were full of cars.
Nearby, leaning on a railing, Kelli Stone offered a wry smile. “Careful. It’s a circus out here.”
In the parking lot, the semi-retired foreman Ashton Stewart was speaking sternly with a man wielding an oversized camera. Beside him, a couple of cowboys were stopping people from exiting their cars and pointing them back up the long driveway.
“Who are these people?” Charity eased closer to Kelli. The woman was only a few years older than her, but she seemed to have a backbone of titanium. Word of Kelli’s riding ability and fearlessness left Charity a touch intimidated. They’d attended a couple of girls’ night out gatherings together, but Charity was still in awe.
“I think some of them are curious about Silver Stone, and the others are looking for a sugar daddy.”
“A sugar—” Realization hit like a two-by-four. “Dustin?”
“Yup.” Kelli swung onto the top rung of the railing and patted the spot next to her. “Poor kid.”
“He’s not a kid,” Charity said without thinking, then regretted her tone. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap.”
