“How’d the two of you become friends, anyway?” Mike asked, after she finished explaining the ways she liked to combine distance and close-up shots in her photo stories. He nodded his head toward Wren. “You’re so different.”

  Were they friends? Wren gave her a sheepish sort of shrug, and Gina assumed she had told them that as a vague way of explaining her arrival here. The story might not be convincing since they really were vastly different types of people, but Gina recognized how the protective cover of friendship freed her from having to share anything more personal about her situation unless she chose to.

  “You know they didn’t meet on Facebook,” Liam said with a laugh. “Wren probably doesn’t even know what that is.”

  “Hey,” said Wren, setting down the final box of books with a thud. “I’m a modern woman, so I know what Facebook is.”

  Gina shook her head in Liam’s direction. “Doubtful. She probably thinks you’re talking about regular books. She might possibly be familiar with those.”

  “Of course I am,” Wren said, with a haughty expression. She turned to Gina and lowered her voice slightly. “Although I think that Gutenberg fellow is going to mess them up.”

  “Good one, Wren,” Gina said, mimicking Wren’s conspiratorial whisper. “Fifteenth-century references really help prove your point.”

  Nick set a lamp on the table next to Gina’s small sofa. “You three shouldn’t tease Wren. She really is quite progressive, you know. Just last year she got a real phone for the barn and replaced those tin cans and string she’d been using.”

  Wren sighed dramatically. “I miss those tin cans,” she said. “No one ever called me on them and tried to sell me diet pills.”

  “Fair point,” Gina said. She pulled her cell out of her back pocket and looked at it forlornly. “All my phone does is give me directions, let me play games, store thousands of books and photos and—”

  Wren batted playfully at her hand. “My cans can multitask, too. They hold pencils, squash bugs, act as paperweights…”

  Nick held up his hands in surrender. “This could go on for days, if you’re going to try to convince Wren of the merit of anything that was developed after the nineteenth century. We’ll leave you two to it.”

  Gina offered to pay them for their help, grateful beyond words that she hadn’t had to leave most of her stuff in the van. She’d get through this first night much easier with her familiar furniture and books around her. Nick and the boys refused to take any money, assuring her that Wren’s pizza more than covered it.

  “People will do anything for pizza,” Wren said once they were alone. “Let me give you a quick rundown of the place, and then I’ll leave you to get some sleep.”

  Gina had been worried about being alone with Wren once everyone left. The others had been a good buffer, and she had been too occupied by the physical labor of moving and the conversation to do much more than notice the way Wren’s muscles flexed against the fabric of her shirt and her jeans whenever she bent over to pick up a box or climbed up the van’s ramp. And she barely registered the warm friction of skin on skin when their hands met as they carried Gina’s dresser up the stairs. Yeah, at least two percent of the time she hardly remembered that Wren was even there.

  Right now, though, she was too tired to do more than briefly imagine what it would feel like to run her hands over Wren’s biceps or thighs, or how good it might be to have Wren’s hands touching her. Those imagined sensations were going to be troublesome once Gina was rested and settled, but for now, her weariness and sadness at having traded the apartment of her dreams for this one were enough to dampen any arousal Wren might cause in her.

  Plus, Wren’s instructions for living in this place were a bit concerning. She seemed to have taken rural living to an extreme, and Gina’s mind reeled with the explanations for dealing with solar power and well water.

  “Is this supposed to be the epitome of the simple life?” she asked. “Because it seems a lot more complicated than what I’m used to.”

  Wren raised her arms in an expansive gesture. “There are some challenges, but living as much off the grid as I can gives me a lot more freedom.”

  Gina frowned, skeptical about what sort of freedom she was going to find here. As far as she was concerned, the grid was good. She really liked the grid.

  “Well, I suppose I can survive here for a little while, until we get your marketing plan set up and I can move back to the city.” Gina nodded, trying to draw strength from her confident sounding words. This was temporary. Like going camping or out on a survivalist retreat. It would build character. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”

  Wren gave her that look again, as if she couldn’t quite process the words Gina was saying. “I don’t have internet.”

  Gina closed her eyes. Really, how much character did she want to build, anyway? “You hired me to help you build a presence on the internet. How do you expect me to do that…without internet?”

  Wren shrugged. “I don’t know. I assumed you’d do the computer stuff somewhere else.”

  Gina had her phone. She could survive the night, at least. She mentally repeated that several times, like a mantra, before she spoke again. “Fine. I’ll pick up a mobile hotspot when I take the van back to Seattle tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Wren said. “I’ll pay for it while you’re here—just don’t expect me to use it. Oh, I’ll be right back.”

  Gina frowned as Wren ran down the stairs. She actually did expect her to use the internet, but she wasn’t going to argue about it tonight. How else did Wren think she was going to market her farm online? Apparently the tin cans weren’t doing the job, otherwise Wren wouldn’t have needed to hire her.

  She was back in less than a minute with Grover in tow and Biscuit wriggling madly in her arms. “I had them in the tack room while we were moving so they wouldn’t be in the way. I left some food and a water bowl in the cupboard under the sink that you can put out for him.” She hesitated, then backed toward the door. “Well, good night, then.”

  “Good night. Thank you for helping unload the van.”

  Wren waved off her thanks and disappeared into the darkness. Gina stood on the landing for a few minutes, with Grover leaning his furry weight against her leg. The air was still and cool against her skin, and the stars seemed to drip heavily in the sky. Gina shuddered. The solid emptiness of the space around her made her feel as if she were in a sensory deprivation tank. She went inside and looked around. Boxes covered the floor and every piece of furniture except her bed. She hadn’t thought to bring food with her, except for some protein bars, and who knew where they were in all this mess. She didn’t feel like getting back in the van and driving miles until she found a drive-through. She would have to go to the store the next day. She went into the kitchen area and opened the fridge, as if something might magically appear, and found a grease-blotched delivery box with a large cheese pizza inside. Wren. Gina smiled. Apparently she hadn’t been too late for dinner after all.

  She took the box with her since she didn’t have any plates unpacked and curled up on her bed to call Maia, who thankfully was a devout night owl. Grover jumped up and lay down close beside her, resting his chin on her hip and waiting for handouts. He was going to get white hair all over her comforter. And possibly drool. Maybe even fleas? The dogs she had known had always slept outside in kennels, never in the house. Maybe she should at least tell him to get down and sleep on the floor. She sighed instead and leaned against Grover’s side, holding her phone so the dog would be the first thing Maia would see when she answered Gina’s call.

  Chapter Seven

  Wren stumbled through her predawn rituals of feeding and turning out the horses. She had barely slept the night before, and she wasn’t quite sure how Gina had managed to disturb her evening when she wasn’t even visible. Wren’s house was on the other side of the barn from the apartment, and she hadn’t seen any sign that Gina had so much as stepped outside her door all night, but still Wren had felt her presence as sharply as if she’d been standing in the room with her, jolting her awake every time she drifted off to sleep.

  She had made the mistake of spending too much time in Gina’s company last night, but she wouldn’t repeat the offence. Gina was fine on her own, of course—more than fine, in Wren’s opinion—but sooner or later she was going to bring up the online marketing plan Dianna had concocted, and she’d expect Wren to get involved. Wren was doing her best to keep herself out of that particular equation. She had arranged for Nick and the twins to help Gina move in, and she had intended to leave the four of them to take care of the unloading without her. Five people going up and down the stairs had been inefficient, since they spent a lot of time waiting on the ground or on the landing for someone else to walk past.

  Still, after everything Gina had been going through—with unknown people threatening and harassing her—Wren hadn’t felt comfortable leaving her alone with three strangers, no matter how friendly and nonthreatening they were. Not that Wren was much more than a stranger to Gina, but at least she was a familiar face.

  She really needn’t have worried because, after an initial awkward few minutes, Gina had seemed at ease with everyone. Once she started chatting to Mike and Liam about computer stuff, her whole demeanor changed. Wren had tuned out most of the words, but she had paid closer attention to Gina’s expressions and gestures than she would have liked. Her passion for what she did for a living was evident in every aspect of her voice and body language, just as it had been during her interview with Wren.

  Wren didn’t understand how anyone could care so much about the internet, but she really hated the person who had tried to ruin Gina’s online life.

  Wren shook her head as she parked the empty feed carts in the hay barn. This infatuation could be dangerous. She felt sorry for Gina, that was all. And attracted to her, naturally. Neither of those reactions to having her around could be allowed to grow, or who knew what would happen to Wren’s life. Maybe she’d end up wired to the gills, with a television and computer in every room, spending her days watching other people’s lives instead of living her own. Staring at the screen of a cell phone instead of looking up and into the eyes of the people around her. Not that Gina seemed to be as mind-numbed as Wren thought someone who made their living with computers would be, since she actually was quite charming around other human beings, although she might have been putting on an act around strangers. Give her time, Wren decided, and she’d reveal herself to be the screen-addicted zombie Wren expected.

  Until she became an unappealing, shallow zombie, Wren needed to avoid contact with her. They’d have to discuss the work she was going to do for the barn, of course, but maybe those marketing meetings would douse Wren’s attraction. She’d be so bored by the internet-based conversation that her mind wouldn’t be able to shake off its numbness and notice every detail about Gina’s smile—like the way the corners of her mouth were naturally upturned as if she was always about to smile or laugh. Or the way her blue eyes reflected her amusement when they joked together about the apartment or Wren’s pretend desire to have her banished from the farm.

  What was more likely was that Wren’s brain would ignore the computer talk and spend every ounce of its energy focused on Gina. Again, avoidance seemed to be the answer. It shouldn’t be too hard since Gina was probably hidden away in the apartment right now, staring at some screen or another. Or she was going through the d.t.’s because those screens weren’t connected to the internet yet. Wren had even more motivation to get her a mobile whatever-the-hell she needed, so she’d stay inside and online.

  She picked up Biscuit, who had been gloomy all night with Grover gone, and carried him to the barn and the stalls she needed to clean. Wren hadn’t seen one hair from Grover’s furry white hide since last night, either, even though she had assumed he would be frantically searching for her this morning. The traitor.

  Wren stomped into the barn, angry with herself for spending her entire morning thinking about how she needed to stop thinking about Gina. She stopped and blinked, trying to figure out what she was seeing. Gina was at the far end of the barn, just beyond the shadows where the concrete aisleway ended. She had a tripod and a chair and seemed to be talking to herself. Grover was lying on the ground at Gina’s feet, and Biscuit squirmed to get free from Wren’s arms. She set him down, and he raced down the aisle. Wren followed more slowly, feeling her irritation growing as she walked. She wasn’t annoyed with Gina necessarily—after all, it would be ridiculous to make the area outside of her apartment off-limits to her. No, Wren’s irritation was mainly self-focused. She couldn’t keep her mind off Gina when she wasn’t even around. How was she going to concentrate on her day, let alone find the sense of peace she always had when she had the barn to herself before clients arrived, with Gina lounging right in the middle of the barn’s wide doorway?

  As she got closer, her eyes adjusted to the morning light, and Gina morphed from a silhouette to a distinct person with lines and colors. She was wearing black sweatpants that sat low on her hips, and her feet were bare. Who went barefoot in a barn? Her pale yellow sweater was wide enough at the neck to drape over one shoulder and loosely knit enough to show the black sports bra she wore underneath. Her hair was piled in a bun, with all the hues of it twisting together. She was incomprehensibly putting some sort of cream on her face and talking to a small black and silver camera. She had one of Wren’s extra water buckets upended next to her.

  Biscuit clambered over Grover and tried to scramble onto Gina’s lap. She picked up a towel off the bucket-slash-dressing table and wiped her hands before reaching down to pick him up. She rubbed his ears and kept up a constant stream of comments, lifting the small beagle until he was close enough to poke the camera lens with his nose. Great. That would probably look adorable. Biscuit, Internet Star.

  “I know you’re here,” she said as soon as she was close enough to speak without shouting.

  “Very clever of you,” Gina said. She looked around her makeshift film set. “Although I am pretty hard to miss out here. Still, well done.”

  “That’s not what I…” Wren sighed and started again. “When I told you I liked my privacy, you said I wouldn’t even know you were here. Well, I know you’re here.”

  Gina shrugged and set Biscuit down next to Grover. “I was planning to spend the day hiding in those bushes over there, but the light out here is amazing. I couldn’t resist filming here.”

  “Yes, it’s the newest technology in lighting. We call it the sun. Patent pending.”

  Gina turned back to face the camera. “My new landlord, everyone. Don’t mind her—she’s a bit cranky in the morning. And at night.” She paused and glanced at Wren out of the corner of her eyes. “And in the afternoon.”

  Wren stepped back, unsure how wide the camera’s shot was. “You are not roping me into this online business of yours.”

  Gina laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing.” She looked at the camera and made a slashing motion at her throat. “Cut that last part out. There, see? Editing Me will make sure you’re not in the video, but the puppy part is staying. Seriously, though, I’m being extra careful not to have anything that could identify where I’m staying or with whom. I would never put you or your farm at risk like that.”

  Wren shook her head and stared over Gina’s shoulder at the setting she had chosen for her sunlit backdrop. A wall of stunted fir trees grew in the harsh, rocky soil at the edge of the bay, with a lone madrone arched like a frame over the glimpse of water. It was beautiful. Generic, for Washington State, but beautiful. Gina had had her life turned upside down by this unknown person, but here she was worrying about protecting Wren’s identity.

  “To be honest, I’d love a chance to meet the coward who wrote those things about you face-to-face.” She looked back at Gina in time to see her eyes widen slightly at Wren’s words, as if surprised by the vehemence in her voice. Wren cleared her throat and reverted to cranky. “What kind of videos do you make, anyway? I thought you did things about living in the city and painting furniture. I didn’t realize Morning Ablutions at the Barn was in your repertoire.”

  Gina sighed and leaned forward to push a button on her camera. “I have a feeling this might take some time to explain,” she said as she sat down again. She waved in the direction of the camera. “I don’t want my battery to run down while you’re making fun of me. Batteries are newfangled contraptions that make things go.”

  The last sentence was delivered in the tone of someone speaking to a three-year-old. Wren laughed. “Well, I hadn’t been planning on making fun of you, but I definitely will now. Go ahead, amuse me with your weird internet activities.”

  “It’s a Get Ready With Me video. I saw them a lot on YouTube when I was researching popular clips and planning my own content. Usually they involve putting on a bunch of makeup, which isn’t my style, so I didn’t think I’d ever make one, but I got requests from my followers for this type of chatty video. I gave one a try and had fun with it. Mostly I just talk about what’s going on in my life, but sometimes I have people post questions and I answer them.” She held up her hand as if in warning. “I know what you’re going to say, so don’t bother.”

  Wren frowned. She had no idea what she was going to say. The thought of filming herself having a conversation with a camera while she got ready to go out and do barn chores was the most ludicrous thing she could imagine. At least it would be a short video since she barely did more than brush her teeth before feeding her horses. They really didn’t care about mascara or combed hair, and neither did she. “I’m speechless,” Wren finally managed to say. “What part of this is fun for you?”