Gen was still pulling together her idea when, one day while she was hanging out at Kate’s bookstore, she heard Jackson mention that the guest house on the Delaney Ranch had been remodeled, and that Ryan was trying to figure out whether to rent it to a regular tenant or make it into a vacation place.
The thought of a guest house on the ranch property clicked perfectly with her artist-in-residence idea. Sure, she could put her artist—whoever it turned out to be—up someplace in town, but that lacked the charm and serenity of the ranch. She could just imagine her chosen artist working on plein air paintings under the canopy of a hundred-year-old oak tree, with an ocean breeze ruffling his (or her) hair.
Would Ryan Delaney be open to hosting her artist? She’d never been to the ranch, and she reflected that it might not be nearly as scenic as it was in her imagination, what with the cows and all of the dirt and smells that went with them.
Being on a cattle ranch could be a draw, depending on the artist’s personality. She’d have to find someone who was into nature, someone not too hung up on the whole animal rights issue of beef production. PETA members need not apply.
Leaning against the counter in Swept Away, listening to Kate and Jackson chat, Gen considered the options. She asked Jackson what he thought, and he said he’d talk to Ryan. Within a couple of days, she had an appointment to go out and see the place. The thought excited her in more ways than one.
Ryan Delaney made Gen’s knees weak. It probably had something to do with his big, expressive, deep brown eyes, framed by dark lashes so thick any woman would envy them. Those eyes made Gen want to envelop him in her arms and make everything all better—even though she had no reason to believe he had a problem that needed solving, or a hurt that needed soothing.
She did, though.
She had the big, empty space in her middle that reminded her she hadn’t had sex in a really long time. Now, there was one hurt that Ryan could make all better.
“So? What do you think?” Ryan was standing in the kitchen of the tiny guest house, his butt leaning against the counter, his arms crossed, waiting for Gen’s appraisal.
Gen tried to tear her thoughts away from Ryan’s tall, lean physique and focus on the house—the reason she was here. The cottage really was beautiful. It was tiny—a sitting room, a bedroom, a galley kitchen, and not much else. But the kitchen had been updated with miniature stainless steel appliances and butcher block countertops, the walls were a buttery yellow, and the hardwood floors gleamed in a warm shade of caramel. One side of the sitting room was dominated by a stone fireplace. She crossed through the little bedroom and into the bathroom, and found new fixtures, spotless and inviting.
“This place looks brand new,” she said, emerging back out into the main room.
Ryan chuckled and rubbed at his chin, which sported a day’s worth of stubble. Gen wanted him to rub that stubble all over her naked body, but suggesting such a thing would have made for an abrupt change of topic.
“Not exactly,” he said. “This place has been sitting here more than sixty years. Just had it redone, floor to ceiling.”
“Well, it looks amazing.”
“Shoulda seen it before. Lucky it was still standing.”
The guest cottage would be perfect for her program for several reasons. One, the setting was quiet and peaceful, just what an artist might need for maximum creative output. Two, the beauty of the surroundings would be inspiring. Three, the fact that it was on a cattle ranch was just unique enough to draw attention. And four, there was the landlord.
On second thought, that might be a drawback rather than an item in the plus column, considering how difficult it was for Gen to form a coherent thought with Ryan standing there, looking at her with those liquid eyes. Plus, there was his attraction to Lacy.
“The program would run for about five months,” she told him. “Jackson said you were planning to rent the place by the week, as a vacation house. I’m hoping that as a monthly rental …”
“I could knock the price down some,” he said, anticipating her question.
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Then there’s the question of studio space.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
When Gen had said “studio space,” she hadn’t been thinking of a barn. And yet, here it was. The barn was cavernous, with a hay loft, stalls for livestock, and enough space that you could probably land a plane in there.
Gen took in the square footage, the natural, hazy light that wafted in through the open doors, and the pure, tangible ambiance you could only get from an abandoned barn.
“So, is this the original barn?” she asked as Ryan led her into the place with its dirt floors and weathered walls.
“No, not even close,” he said, looking amused. “The original barn was built around 1850, I’d say. It either fell down or got torn down, probably a hundred years ago. This one dates back to about 1956. Or so my dad tells me. We don’t use it anymore, obviously. Built a new one about ten years ago when we outgrew this one.”
“You outgrew this barn?” she asked, taking in the sheer size of it.
“Well, it wasn’t just the size that needed upgrading. The new one’s got all the technology.”
“Huh,” Gen said.
“This one’s got electricity, water. Ventilation. Size works out, if your guy does big canvases.”
“Yeah, I don’t think size will be a problem,” Gen said.
Until now, the idea—the whole artist-in-residence thing—had seemed like a fuzzy fantasy that hadn’t really taken shape. But the barn—the vision of someone setting up in here, throwing paint around, being inspired by the smell of hay and dirt and sea air—that’s what did it for her. That’s what made it real.
She turned to Ryan. “I want it. But I don’t have the details on the dates yet. Or, actually, how I’m going to pay for it. Give me a couple of weeks. Don’t rent it out before then.” Her voice was excited, adamant.
His eyebrows rose. “I don’t know if I can promise that.”
“A deposit, then. I’ll give you a deposit now, and tell you the dates when I’ve got them.”
He rubbed at his chin. “That works.”
They went back to the main house to work out the details as Gen mentally reviewed the contents of her business account, and winced.
Chapter Five