High Country Hearts
Glynna Kaye
FOLLOWING HER HEART After years spent helping to run her family’s Christian bookstore, it’s time for Adrie Chandler to give her own dream a chance. But can she really trust the beloved shop to new manager Ross Peterson? The man is too handsome, too charming . . . too much a reminder of another dream Adrie had to let go of—marriage.Yet Ross surprises her by knowing a thing or two about making sacrifices. Suddenly, Adrie’s questioning what she really wants. And whether the dreams she once thought unlikely are within reach after all.
Rob emerged from a cabin, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun.
He put on sunglasses and strode toward her. He’d been good-looking in college, but the determined figure swiftly covering the ground between them was no longer a boy. Far from it. He was now solid. Confident. All man.
She couldn’t see his eyes, hidden as they were behind his sunglasses, but she felt them on her. What did he see when he looked at her? The skinny, giggling girl she’d been—or the woman she hoped she’d become?
She took a deep breath, endeavoring to quiet her thumping heart. Get a grip, Olivia. You’re not a starry-eyed eighteen-year-old anymore. She flashed him a bright smile as he came to a halt before her. “Now where’s this graffiti you called about?”
He abruptly turned and set off on the trail to the log structure, leaving her to trot along behind. It was apparent he didn’t plan to make their so-called reunion anything more than superficial.
The Rob of her dreams this was not.
What’s happened to him, Lord?
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Canyon Springs! This “high country” region of Arizona is filled with beautiful little mountain communities featuring abundant campsites and cabin resorts like Singing Rock. It’s a perfect spot for a getaway—to step back, quiet down and listen to the “still small voice” of God.
Rob McGuire came to Canyon Springs for a fresh start, but he faced many challenges of his own making. Sometimes our wrong choices go unnoticed by others. We ask for forgiveness and keep them “just between us and God.” However, as in Rob’s case, some choices may have more public and long-lasting consequences. They can create obstacles—including fear of rejection—in our relationship with God and with others.
I hope you’ve enjoyed Olivia and Rob’s journey to recognizing God’s loving mercy. Mercy evidenced through His forgiveness—not rejection—and bringing about good from decisions that fell far short of His own ideals.
I love to hear from readers, so please contact me via email at glynna@glynnakaye.com or Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. Please also visit my website at www.glynnakaye.com—and stop in at www.loveinspiredauthors.com and www.seekerville.net.
Thank you for again joining me in Canyon Springs!
Glynna
High Country Hearts
Glynna Kaye
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
But God demonstrates his own love for us in this:
While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
—Romans 5:8
Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.
—Hebrews 13:5
To my cousin, friend and published author,
Kathleen Bacus. We’ve come a long way
from writing and performing plays
in Grandma Belle’s basement.
Chapter One
The last time she saw Rob McGuire, he was down on one knee in front of all their friends, diamond ring in hand, and gazing up in hopeful expectation—at her college roommate. So what on earth was he doing seven years later on her parents’ doorstep? And with a cop no less.
With a quick intake of breath, Olivia Diaz stared from one man to the other, finding Rob’s frowning demeanor more encouraging than that of the solemn-eyed officer of the law. But she focused on the latter.
“What’s wrong?” Had something happened to her parents? She’d arrived in Canyon Springs shortly after midnight—Tuesday before Labor Day weekend—to an empty house. And now at 7:00 a.m., she’d thought it still too early to call any of her sisters to find out where their folks might be.
“And you are—?” The stocky Native American officer presented a polite smile, a light breeze ruffling his hair.
“Olivia Diaz.” She motioned to the rugged, ponderosa-pine-studded acreage encompassing the rental cabin property her family had run for decades in the high country of Arizona. “My parents—Paul and Rosa Diaz—own Singing Rock.”
She shot an anxious glance at Rob, then stepped out the door and onto the front porch of the two-story log home. It was Rob, wasn’t it? She’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, but surely she wasn’t hallucinating. The same trim build, broad shoulders and square jaw. Something in the expressive gray eyes flickered. Did he remember her?
The officer held out identification, again drawing her attention. “I’m Deputy Nate Karel of the County Sheriff’s Department, here to see Mr. or Mrs. Diaz. Mr. McGuire here indicated they were out of town, but when we saw signs of habitation at the house, we thought they might have returned.”
Tension drained. Her parents were okay.
“No, they’re not at home, but in their absence you can speak with me.” They’d probably gone on an overnight trip to the Valley of the Sun—the Phoenix area—but she herself would be managing the property in the not-too-distant future. That was her parents’ hope, anyway—or had been. After last year’s episode it might take some convincing, but she was determined to win them over.
“There’s been vandalism to the property.” The soft, Navajo cadence of the officer’s tone thrummed gently in her ears as he produced a small notebook and pen.
She glanced again at Rob, who seemed to be following the conversation with almost proprietary interest.
What was he doing here?
“And you arrived when, Ms. Diaz?”
Refocusing on the officer, she cringed inwardly, belatedly self-conscious of her bare feet, cut-off shorts and battered Phoenix Suns tank top. Appropriate late-August attire for hanging around the house, but not for hosting a visit from law enforcement—or the man who’d populated her dreams for more years than she cared to admit.
“I got in not long after midnight. Drove all the way from Mississippi to surprise my folks.”
Some surprise. No one home. Nothing edible in the fridge. Not even their aging pooch, Maverick, had been around to offer a tail wag.
The officer nodded, seeming to weigh her response as he jotted down a few words. “Did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary at that hour?”
“Such as?”
“Vehicles. Voices. Lights.” Amazingly, Rob’s mellow tone still sounded familiar to her ears despite the passage of time. “Someone broke into one of the cabins and trashed it.”
Great. He appeared out of nowhere in the middle of her world and this was the welcome he got. “Your cabin?”
Rob shook his head. “A vacant one. Timberline.”
Then what business was this of his?
“Ms. Diaz?” The deputy drew her attention again. “Would you like to take a look at it? Tell us if anything is missing?”
Like she’d know? She hadn’t been out to Timberline in almost a year. To any of the cabins on the property for that matter. Her most vivid memory of the farthest cabin to the west wasn’t of its furniture and fixtures, but of a heated argument she’d had there with her oldest sister, Paulette.
“I wouldn’t be much help. I’ve been out of town for quite a while.” Besides, much to her shame, now that she knew her folks had come to no harm, her mind wasn’t on the issue at hand. Exhilaration bubbled below the surface as she again caught the eye of her old college crush, dressed this morning in a navy blue T-shirt, jeans and charcoal windbreaker. Her heart sped up a notch as he returned her openly curious gaze. He’d always been an eye-catcher, but who’d have thought that was a mere fledgling phase?
“Okay, then,” the deputy concluded. “I guess that finishes things up here. I’ll file the report, Mr. McGuire. Ms. Diaz. Thank you both for your time.”
He shook hands with Rob, nodded at her, then headed down the steps and toward an official-looking SUV parked in the pine-rimmed clearing.
“Wait.” She moved to the edge of the porch, wrapping an arm around one of the thick, hand-hewn wooden posts. If she was to be Singing Rock’s manager, she’d better start acting the part. “Do you have any leads? Evidence? Anything forensic to identify the culprits?”
Officer Karel turned. “No, miss, nothing to speak of.”
“You’ll keep me posted if something comes up?”
“I will. Good day to you both.”
She remained standing on the broad wooden porch of the house, watching the officer climb into his county vehicle. An approaching older model minivan passed him on his way out before pulling up in front of another two-story log structure across the clearing—the lodge, hub of Singing Rock activity housing the office, recreation room and an apartment upstairs. Olivia’s nose curled at the odor of the vehicle’s exhaust, entirely out of place in the pristine, pine-scented retreat. Guests must be returning from an early breakfast or errand run to town.
She turned again to the man standing a few feet away, keeping her arm looped around the post for fear she might float off in euphoria. Drinking in the sight of him, she couldn’t disguise the delight in her voice.
“Rob McGuire, of all people. I can’t believe after all this time you’ve shown up in Canyon Springs. Welcome to Singing Rock.”
“Thanks.” He brushed an unruly lock of sun-streaked brown hair from his forehead and offered a faint, though not unfriendly smile. But from the puzzlement reflected in his eyes, it was apparent that while he’d heard her name he still hadn’t placed her.
“Remember me? Northern Arizona University? Church volleyball team? Friday night Bible study?”
He frowned, uncertainty still evident as he searched her features.
“The sole girl to jump off that bridge during the spring break mission trip to Mexico?” Surely he’d remember that. “The one who came as a smiley face to the church’s autumn college kick-off party?”
It was at the costume party where they’d first met and she certainly hadn’t forgotten him. A debonair masked Zorro. She still remembered his first words to her. Well, now, aren’t you enough to make a man smile.
Was that romantic or what?
His eyes widened ever so slightly. “It’s coming to me now. You dressed all in black and painted your face bright yellow with big black eyes and an ear-to-ear grin.”
“Bingo!” Ha ha. She’d been stuck the entire evening in that perpetual state long after the other partygoers—including Rob—disposed of removable masks. But freshmen are entitled to a few missteps.
“Well, what do you know? Good to see you again.”
Was it?
He continued to study her as if sifting through a box of memories, comparing then and now. “You’ll have to forgive me—I thought you looked vaguely familiar when you came to the door, but I sure didn’t recognize you.”
Thank goodness. Vanity hoped she’d changed since her freshman days of tomboyishly cropped curls, skinny bod and multi-pierced ears. Late bloomer. She proudly shook back her now-cascading black locks, her smile widening in hopes she could coax one from him.
“I still can’t believe this. What a small world. I mean, I haven’t seen you since—since—”
Their gazes collided at the mutual memory, and from the discomfiture in his eyes she knew he’d remembered her at last. Warmth crept into her cheeks.
Oh, good going, Olivia.
The last thing she wanted to do was remind him of that public turndown of a marriage proposal she and half the church witnessed. Standing but a few feet from the ring’s intended recipient, she’d had a front-row seat to his humiliation. “So what brings you here as a guest at Singing Rock?”
With his hands jammed in his jacket pockets, she couldn’t get an answer to the question she most wanted to know. Then again, seven years had passed so of course he was married. Guys like him always were. And likely to a woman far more beautiful and spiritual than she’d ever hope to be.
Just her luck, he was probably here with the little wifey and a carload of kids. Or on his honeymoon.
“Actually … I’m the manager here.”
Her smile faltered. “Here? At Singing Rock?”
He nodded. “Have been for a couple of weeks now.”
She gave an uncertain laugh. No way. As achievement-oriented as Rob had been in college, he had to be heading up his own Fortune 500 company by now. Or maybe even pastoring one of those mega churches. “You’re kidding, right?”
He shook his head, his eyes narrowing—apparently at the disbelieving tone of her voice.
Realization slammed into her, leaving a meteor-size crater somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. Mom and Dad had finally given up on her? They’d hired someone outside the family to run their business?
Her grip tightened on the post as she willed herself to renew a smile. Hiring Rob had to be a temporary situation, right? Until she came back. Until they could get things worked out between them.
“Hey, Rob!” A familiar female voice rang out from across the parking lot where the minivan had pulled up moments ago. She caught sight of her sister Paulette Alston standing beside it. “Would you give me a hand, please?”
Still shaken by Rob’s revelation, Olivia stepped back inside the door to retrieve her flip-flops, then caught up with him at what must be her sister’s new mom-mobile. She hadn’t recognized it when it drove in. A slightly newer model than the last.
Paulette, not expecting to see her this morning, shot Olivia a sharp look as she approached. But Olivia shouldn’t have been so surprised to see her oldest sister this early in the day. When you have five kids aged six to sixteen, you have to stay on your toes. This morning Paulette, her senior by a decade, appeared older than her thirty-five years. Black-brown eyes, devoid of the characteristic Diaz sparkle, were shadowed below with dark circles. Tendrils of limp, shoulder-length black hair, haphazardly tied back, escaped to brush her cheeks.
Paulette slid open the side door to the van, gaze focusing on Rob. “What was the deputy doing here? More trouble?”
“Timberline this time.”
The hairs prickled along Olivia’s arms. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened?”
Her sister shook her head. “Twice now in the past week. Lucky Rob.”
Singing Rock’s manager fished around in his jacket pocket. As he produced a piece of paper, Olivia at last confirmed the left hand holding it out was ringless. Her heart took flight, but only momentarily. With the way her love life had been going lately, that omission didn’t mean much. But ever the optimist, Olivia pounced on the possibility.
“I jotted down a few things while the deputy and I inspected it.” Rob unfolded his notes. “They outdid themselves this time.”
Olivia stepped closer to get a better look at his neat, compact handwriting, her proximity bringing a fading bruise and healing scrape along the side of his cheekbone into view. Paulette’s stare darkened, as if to remind her that by her own choice she had no part in Singing Rock business. Her choice? Not hardly.
“I assume you’ve introduced yourself to our new manager, Liv?” Dark eyes flashed in obvious satisfaction. She’d never believed her little sister could handle the job and hadn’t been afraid to say so.
“Actually, we already know each other.” Olivia couldn’t help but gloat inwardly as she served up the unexpected spin and watched her sister’s smug smile dissolve.
“Oh, really?” Her eyes flitted from Olivia to Rob and back again, her mouth a grim line. “How’s that?”
“College,” Olivia and Rob said in unison.
Olivia could tell by the arch of Paulette’s brow and the look she again darted at Rob that the disclosure met with disapproval. Then again, not much involving Olivia won Paulette’s endorsement.
“Small world.” Rob’s words echoed her earlier comment, but without the enthusiasm Olivia couldn’t help but hope for.
Paulette managed a smile as she turned to Rob and motioned to the interior of her van. “I was in Phoenix over the weekend and picked up supplies at the wholesale warehouse. Would you mind carrying them in for me?”
“I’d be more than happy to.” Rob lifted out a box, then headed toward the lodge.
Olivia couldn’t help letting her eyes linger on his retreating form. But, not surprisingly, as soon as he was out of earshot Paulette turned to her, blocking the view. “Surprised to see you back, Liv.”
“Got in last night.” She glanced toward the house, not up to a lecture this morning. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
“They borrowed an RV and headed for Tahoe until October. Left a week ago. You just missed them.”
Olivia gasped. “You’re kidding. They left town for over a month and didn’t even tell me?”
Paulette raised a skeptical brow. “Mom specifically said she emailed you. I hardly think she’d make that up.”
“I never got it.” Her mind raced to confirm her denial. Things had been so crazy the past few weeks, what with her latest love life derailment and job upheaval. “She should have called me. At least left a message. I can’t believe they’d take off before the season’s over.”
“That’s something they can do now that they have a competent overseer of the property. And don’t you dare call them about the vandalism and ruin their time off.” Paulette glanced toward Rob, returning for another box. As if coming to a decision, she reached into the van, pulled out a couple of jumbo packages of paper towels and thrust them at Olivia. “I told Mom I’d pick up a few things for her, too. Take these to the house, will you? I’ll bring the rest in a few minutes when Rob and I are finished with our business.”
She could take a hint.
“Good to see you again, Rob.” Olivia flashed him a smile as she adjusted the armload of cushiony, tubed cylinders. “Looks as if we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other in the coming days. It’ll give us a chance to revisit our NAU memories.”
Rob again stuffed his hands in the windbreaker’s pockets. Cleared his throat.
Was that a scowl?
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Olivia.” His tone held a subtle edge that caught her by surprise. “But reminiscing isn’t high on my to-do list. With all there is to take care of around here, I have more than enough to keep me occupied in the here and now.”
Just what he didn’t need. A shadow from his past.
One with big, sparkling brown eyes looking at him like he walked on water. Or at least she had until he told her he was the new manager of Singing Rock—and squelched her overture to rekindle their college acquaintance.
What are you thinking, Lord, bringing me here?
A too-familiar tension gripping his shoulders, he broke eye contact with her and turned to grab another box. Hefting it into his arms, he strode toward the lodge, gravel crunching under his work boots.
His grip strengthened on the box as he negotiated the wide-planked porch stairs, and pulled open the mullioned door. He’d thought Canyon Springs was an answered prayer. A haven. A fresh start. But it now looked like what his grandma called “out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
Crossing the expanse of the somewhat overstuffed main room, he passed by the staircase that led up to his quarters and carried the box into the storage room at the back of the building.
The tension in his shoulders crept down into his upper arms as he opened the box and shelved the containers, the shame he could never escape still washing through him as steadily as a tide since the moment he’d realized who Olivia was. This couldn’t be happening. Not when things were looking promising for a change. Not when he’d finally stopped trying to justify what happened and had thrown himself at God’s feet. Begged His forgiveness.
And this was his reward?
Why would God lead him right into home territory of the president of his college “fan club”—the club he wasn’t supposed to know anything about? He’d thought its existence funny back then, in a somewhat embarrassing way. He’d taken a lot of ribbing from the other guys at the church, what with the girls trying to catch his graduate-student eye. Home-baked cookies on his doorstep. Cards and gifts in his mailbox. How many inspirationally-worded bookmarks, plaques and key chains did a guy need?
Yeah, it was flattering back then. Ego-stroking. Amusing at times.
But it was none of the above now.
He shoved the last of the containers onto the shelf and turned to the box he’d brought in first. Sliced it open. Emptied its contents.
What was he going to do?
He couldn’t pack up and walk out, leaving Paul and Rosa in a lurch. They were depending on him. They’d given him a vote of confidence early in the game by heading out for rest and relaxation before the mountain country summer visitor season was even over. He couldn’t afford to let them down now.
Olivia said they’d be seeing each other in the coming days. How many days? Maybe she wouldn’t stay long, be here only for the holiday weekend. He could deal with that, right? Could easily manage to avoid her. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said he had more than enough to do around here. He planned to have this place running noticeably smoother by the time his employers returned and to have the requested development plan mapped out for their approval. He had a lot riding on this job. Everything, in fact. And not much over a month to prove himself indispensable, make it permanent.
Olivia obviously thought her parents would be here. Had a job to get back to—Mississippi, was it? His heart rate slowed as he clutched at that scrap of hope.
Regardless of whether or not she was a shadow from his past, he couldn’t afford to get distracted by a woman like her. Petite, with curves tucked into figure-skimming denim shorts, her glossy black hair tumbling around her shoulders to frame the warm Hispanic skin tones of a delicate face. Brown eyes danced with mischief.
Carefree and captivating. Exactly like Cassie.
He took a ragged breath.
If there was one thing he knew about a woman who came packaged like Olivia Diaz, it was that she’d be a diversion he couldn’t afford to indulge in.
Never again.
Chapter Two
Don’t take this the wrong way?
“Well, Mr. Robert Thomas McGuire,” Olivia mouthed aloud as she dug in the pantry for something to call breakfast, “how else am I supposed to take it?”
She hadn’t missed her sister’s smirk when he delivered that put-down, either. Where was she, anyway? Twenty minutes later, the minivan was still outside. Surely she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to further interrogate her little sister on her out-of-the-blue appearance in Canyon Springs.
But no way was she talking about that with Paulette. Maybe with one of her other sisters. Maybe.
She pulled out a cardboard canister of instant oatmeal and stared at the label. Milk or water required. She preferred milk. Looked like she’d be making a run to the grocery store today. With a sigh, she returned the canister to the shelf.
What was it with Rob, anyway? It wasn’t her fault she’d been front and center when Gretchen dumped him at the church’s commencement reception those many years ago. For crying out loud, what kind of dope proposes in front of a roomful of people unless he’s one-hundred-percent sure—and then some—that the answer will be Y-E-S? But maybe, like her, he’d never dreamed any woman in her right mind would turn him down.
Of course, it wasn’t as if Gretchen hadn’t cranked up the charm to grab his attention from the moment Olivia introduced them, so why would he have thought otherwise?
Maybe he blamed her for that, too?
She closed the pantry door harder than intended. Gave it a soft kick for good measure.
“Take it easy, Liv.” Paulette’s voice intruded into her thoughts as she swept into the kitchen to plunk a box of assorted staples on the table, her handbag skidding across the surface where she’d tossed it. Then folding her arms, she leaned against the work island and—not unexpectedly—got right down to business.
“So, if you and Rob knew each other in college, why don’t I remember hearing you talk about him?”
Olivia moved to the table to inspect the box’s contents, determined not to let her sister fluster her.
“No reason to, I guess.”
Even back then she knew better than to bare her soul to her sister’s scrutiny. She removed two containers of peanut butter from the box and deposited them in the pantry.
“You expect me to believe that?” The tone of Paulette’s query was reminiscent of the probing Olivia recalled from her childhood. Big sister who acted more like her mother than her mother did.
She shrugged. “We didn’t know each other that well.”
“I got the impression from that exchange that there are coals still smoldering. He made it clear he’s not into digging up old bones.”
“Actually,” Olivia speculated, determined to put a positive twist on his response to their reunion, “it sounded to me as if he’s overwhelmed with Singing Rock management at the moment. No time to spare.”
Paulette’s expression clearly stated she wasn’t buying it. “You were in classes together? He’s older than you, isn’t he?”
“He was a grad student my freshman year and helping with the church’s college outreach program. We played together on their co-ed volleyball team that winter, Bible study, mission trips, things like that. I didn’t even cross his radar.”
Sad, but true.
“That’s it?” Paulette’s tone still echoed disbelief. “No ill-fated fling with you dumping and running?”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said with a clear conscience as she continued to unpack the box. “So how’d he end up as Singing Rock’s manager? He put himself through school working for a property management business, but I didn’t think that was his ultimate goal. And certainly not in a dinky town like this.”
Paulette shifted her weight. “You missed the wedding last spring, but he’s our cousin Joe’s new in-law. His wife, Meg’s, brother. Guess he recently had a run-in with armed drug dealers in Vegas. A close call.”
Olivia winced. Did that account for the bruises and scrapes? “That’s scary.”
“He hightailed it out of the city, looking for an out-of-the-way place to land. Can’t get much more out of the way than Canyon Springs. Joe says he doesn’t like to talk about the incident, so don’t say anything to him, okay? Don’t want him to think people are gossiping about him.”
“I won’t.” But a good-looking single man, new to town, would be bound to stir up talk. Speculation. “This is temporary, right? He’s not a permanent manager.”
“If he works out—and I think he will—he’s exactly what Mom and Dad need. An answered prayer.”
Olivia set the pickle jar on the table. “You can determine that this early? He’s barely been here a couple of weeks.”
“That’s longer than you stayed the last time.”
Gut-punched, Olivia forced a smile, unwilling to let her sister drag her into a war of words. Again.
“Mom and Dad like him?”
“You think they’d be gadding about this time of year if they didn’t? I admit he’s on the uptight side. But once the rawness of that Vegas encounter wears off, I imagine he’ll fit in here fine.”
Uptight might describe him now if his earlier, curt remark could be used as evidence, but that wasn’t an accurate description of the Rob she knew in college. Her memory flashed to a long-cherished image of him. His eyes closed. Humming softly. Fingering the strings of his guitar as light from a campfire played across his features.
“He certainly was motivated, ambitious, but never uptight.”
“People change, I guess.” Paulette glanced at her watch, then snatched her purse from the table. “Gotta go. Have to be at work by eight-fifteen.”
“You’re working now? Outside the home?” Her sister had always been adamant about being there for the kids. Vowed they’d live off beans and soup until her offspring graduated if that’s what it took to be a full-time mother and homemaker.
Paulette scowled, her tone defensive. “The kids are in public school now.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Wyatt’s Grocery. Clerking.”
“Busy place,” she commiserated, hoping to establish common ground with her too-sensitive big sis. She remembered her own demanding high school schedule at the local grocer’s bakery and deli departments. “On your feet all day.”
Paulette grimaced and turned away toward the living room as if she’d already shared more than she’d intended. “So, how long are you staying this time?”
Too long to suit her sister, no doubt. Mom and Dad were understanding when she popped in and out of town. Not Paulette. And maybe not Mom and Dad if hiring Rob was any indication. She couldn’t blame them for that. After all, hadn’t she herself told them—after her oldest sister pummeled her self-confidence—that it wouldn’t work out?
“I don’t know,” she said, following her sibling to the adjoining room. It had been so clear on the drive home that she’d given up too easily last year, hadn’t stood her ground. But with her parents turning to a stranger to fill the Singing Rock management role …
“One word of advice.” Paulette jerked open the front door and stepped onto the shaded porch. Her hand still on the doorknob, she turned with an uncompromising glare. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing coming back here right now, but don’t go getting any ideas about Rob McGuire.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I’m talking about. He can’t be another notch on your love life gun belt. The future of Singing Rock is riding on him and you can’t come bounding in here with your typical puppy-dog enthusiasm, straining a working relationship with Mom and Dad’s new manager. I think you owe them that.”
Her sister pulled the door firmly shut behind her.
Olivia stood riveted to the floor. Her love life gun belt? Puppy-dog enthusiasm? And what did she mean the future of Singing Rock was riding on Rob? Just because Mom and Dad were eager to retire and none of their daughters or sons-in-law had an interest in carrying the torch of the family business? That may have been true at one point. But not now. Not after she’d regained confidence, had time to reconsider.
But, of course, if it was up to Paulette, she’d never get that opportunity—unless she could wrest the job from Rob without her sibling’s knowledge and prove to the family once and for all she could do it.
Back in the kitchen, she opened a can of mixed fruit and sat down to eat while perusing her mother’s stack of Good Housekeeping. But an hour later she realized she’d glanced solely at the photos, none of the text. Her mind was too preoccupied with plotting how she could convince her parents she was here to stay this time—and troubling over Rob McGuire’s uncharacteristic behavior.
While he’d always fully focused on whatever goal was set before him, he used to be easygoing. Sure, he’d been a serious thinker back then, but now he was serious. The Rob of old never would have cut off a friendly overture with a remark like that.
A chirping sound echoed through the kitchen. She tracked it to a cell phone—tucked under a philodendron’s foliage—where it must have slid from Paulette’s purse. She snatched it up and punched what she hoped was the right button.
“Hello?”
There was a hesitation on the other end. “Paulette?”
She recognized the voice and caught her breath. “This is Olivia.”
Another pause. “This is Rob McGuire. Would you please put her on?”
“She left without her phone. Could I get a message to her?”
He hesitated again and she envisioned him raking a hand through his sun-streaked hair, a familiar gesture she remembered well. “After what happened at Timberline, I decided to check out the rest of the property. And there’s a problem.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning someone tagged Bristlecone.”
“They did what?”
“Spray-painted graffiti on interior walls,” he clarified in a tight voice. “And your name figures prominently in the artwork.”
“I should have asked her to have Paulette call me. That’s it.” Grumbling aloud, Rob dug around in the property’s Jeep Wrangler, trying to find his pen.
He wasn’t required to bring the oldest Diaz daughter up to speed on Singing Rock business, but she’d asked him to keep her in the loop while her parents were gone. Wanting to stay on the good side of a woman he suspected could influence the outcome of this new venture, he’d indulged her. He didn’t think she questioned his authority, but sought to protect her parents’ rare time off. She needn’t have worried. This sort of thing didn’t warrant, in his estimation, a call to Paul and Rosa.
But now Olivia was on her way, insisting she needed to take a look at the damage he’d unthinkingly brought to her attention. He hadn’t missed the earlier dismay that crossed her pretty, animated features when he told her he was the new manager. Almost as if she didn’t think him sufficiently competent to handle it. Which was a real turnaround from what he could remember of her now that he’d had time to think about it.
Back in college she always seemed to show up when he least expected it. An idealistic, high-spirited sprite, trying hard to get his attention. Hanging on his every word. Thinking he could do no wrong.
His stomach twisted at the sound of an approaching vehicle. Probably hers. He sucked in a weary breath. Do no wrong. She’d been way off base on that one. And yet, after all this time, he wasn’t keen on setting her straight.
Letting her down.
It had taken her all of five minutes to pull on a pair of jeans and head out to check on the situation herself. Mr. McGuire might not appreciate her interference or the return of the good old days, but she’d promised herself to look out for things in her parents’ absence. So like it or not, he’d better get used to it. Managing Singing Rock was her heritage, not his.
Spotting the cabin through the pines, one of twenty scattered across Singing Rock’s thickly treed acreage that backed up to forest service property, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she eased the nose of her car off the rutted road. She hadn’t thought about Rob more than a time or two—okay, or two thousand—in the past seven years. So what was with the anticipatory butterflies bouncing around in her stomach?
Up a slight rise hunkered the well-remembered cabin with its log and native stone facade, shingled roof and rustic wooden porch. Natural rock chimneys graced opposite ends of the structure and a half-barrel of fuchsia petunias squatted near the steps. An open-topped, black Jeep Wrangler sat off to one side. Just like the property’s other SUV, its door was emblazoned with “Singing Rock Cabin Resort—Canyon Springs, Arizona.”
As if on cue, Rob emerged from its interior, shading his eyes from the sun’s glare piercing through the canopy of pine branches. With a frown, he peeled out of his windbreaker and tossed it to the seat. Then slipping a pair of sunglasses on, he strode toward her as she exited her vehicle.
She couldn’t see his eyes, hidden as they were behind his sunglasses, but she felt them on her. What did he see when he looked at her? The skinny, giggling freshman she’d been—or the woman she hoped she’d become?
She took a deep breath to quiet her thumping heart. Get a grip, Olivia. You’re not a starry-eyed eighteen-year-old anymore. She flashed him a bright smile as he came to a halt before her, determined that Mr. Grumpy wasn’t going to ruin her day. “Now where’s this graffiti you called about?”
Rob’s brows rose over the top of his shades and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her there was no need to trouble herself, he’d handle it. But then he tilted his head and swept his arm toward the cabin in an almost deferential invitation.
When she hesitated, he set off on the trail to the log structure, anyway, leaving her to trot along behind. It was apparent he didn’t plan to allow their so-called reunion to be anything more than superficial. Which was total silliness. His romantic blunder happened over seven years ago. Get over it, Rob.
Without warning, a squirrel shot out of the timber and across their path, a youthful black Labrador retriever in hot pursuit.
“Elmo.” Rob’s sharp tone and a palm slapped against his denim-clad thigh caught the pup’s attention. The dog skittered to an uncertain halt, his head swiveling from his escaping playmate to Rob and back again. Then he ducked his head and approached, body quivering and tail wagging, to throw himself in humble adoration at Rob’s feet.
Olivia could relate.
She crouched to pat the puppy. It seemed to be all tongue at the moment, and she fended off a flurry of wet kisses. “What a doll. He’s yours?”
“My assistant manager’s. I’ll have to remind him about the property’s leash rules.”
He had an assistant manager? How’d he rate that?
“A cutie for sure. How old is he?”
Rob’s brow crinkled. “Early to mid-thirties probably. And I thought he was kind of an ugly dude myself.”
She laughed and fended off another onslaught of exuberant puppy passion, her heart lightening. So the man did still have a sense of humor buried under that hands-off demeanor. “Very funny.”
“Oh, you meant the pooch?” Rob didn’t so much as crack a smile. But she sensed it there. Lurking. She’d get one out of him yet. “He’s five or six months old.”
The squirming pup rolled onto its back for a belly rub, his ID tags jingling. She obliged, glancing up at Rob, but his expression remained unreadable behind the dark-tinted glasses. After a long moment and without a word, he turned and again walked toward the cabin. Clambering to her feet, Olivia dusted herself off, gave Elmo a final pat, then trailed His Royal Highness through the trees, dried pine needles and pinecones crunching under the soles of her flip-flops.
The Rob of her dreams this was not.
What’s happened to him, Lord?
The dog romped back and forth between them, coming close to tripping her a time or two.
“Elmo.” Rob snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground. “Sit.”
The pup plopped down on its bottom, tail wagging and feet kneading the ground. He took a tentative step and Rob repeated the command. The Lab reseated himself, whimpering as they moved on. She gave the little guy a sympathetic glance. But when it was clear there would be no more pats and tummy rubs, his ears perked up and he sprang to his feet. Raced back through the forest to new adventures.
“He’s adorable.”
“I guess so. But his boundless enthusiasm can be a pain.”
Her heart jolted, recalling the tone of Paulette’s scathing indictment. You can’t come bounding in here with your typical puppy-dog enthusiasm, straining a working relationship with Mom and Dad’s new manager.
She glanced at Rob. Was that how he viewed her, too?
But it appeared he wasn’t paying any attention to her whatsoever as they ascended the railroad tie steps to the cabin. Joining him on the porch, she turned to gaze out at the breathtaking view, glimpsing a distant low mountain between a gap in the thick stand of pines.
“I’ve always loved this cabin.” Opening her arms wide as if to embrace the property, she inhaled the scent of sun-warmed pine. Then immediately dropped her arms to her sides, self-conscious of appearing too enthusiastic.
Rob’s brow lowered. “I suppose you grew up here. On the Singing Rock property as a whole, I mean.”
You can knock off with the frowning, thank you.
“You suppose right.”
Forehead puckered, he pocketed his sunglasses and cocked his head. “Has it changed much through the years?”
Pinned by his gaze, she floundered for an analysis worthy of his now-interested attention.
“Changed? Yes and no.”
Kinda like you, Robby.
Chapter Three
He folded his arms, skepticism in his tone. “Yes and no?”
“Mom and Dad expanded it through the years.” She loved extolling all they’d done to make Singing Rock what it was today. “They built on what Grandma and Grandpa—Mom’s parents—started out with. Added cabins. The lodge. But basically, it’s the same in essence as it always has been. Guests have come to expect that.”
“You think so?”
Why was he challenging her? Acting like he didn’t know what she was talking about?
“Sure. Singing Rock’s been around for sixty-some years. There are even people who’ve been coming here every summer for five decades of those.”
“The Millards, right? Your folks mentioned they celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary at the lodge last year.”
“See what I mean? Singing Rock’s a family tradition.” She caught his furrowed frown and laughed. “You doubt that?”
“What’s Singing Rock doing to attract the Millards’ grandkids? Great-grandkids?”
Pride swelled. “Exactly what we’ve always done. Opening our hearts—and our cabins—to share genuine high country hospitality.”
Rob braced an arm on a porch support post. “Don’t get me wrong. I understand and appreciate that sentiment. But unfortunately, that doesn’t cut it in today’s market. A lot of people are looking to have their days scheduled with diverse activities. Add to that a growing desire for more amenities. Conveniences. Luxuries even.”
“Like cable TV and free internet access? A gourmet coffee shop on site?” She shook her head. It looked like she had a lot to do yet to educate Rob. “Mom and Dad pride themselves on limiting the influence of that kind of thing. They believe you should be your own entertainment.”
“But those kinds of people aren’t keeping the cabins full, now are they?”
Why was he being so obstinate?
“Maybe not in this economic slump. But that’s the whole reason people come to Singing Rock.” She motioned toward the captivating view from the porch. “They’d rather commune with God and nature than sit in front of an electronic screen of some variety. They want to get themselves and their kids away from all-consuming technology and flee the stuff that causes them stress on a daily basis. The place that delivers on that promise is Singing Rock.”
Rob tilted his head. “A good cup of coffee causes stress?”
“A good cup of coffee doesn’t have to cost five or six bucks a pop. That does cause stress.” She studied him a long moment, an uneasiness floating around the edges of her mind. She folded her arms. “You’re not thinking of trying to talk my folks into that kind of junk are you? I can tell you right now it won’t fly.”
“Coffee shop? No way. But it’s your parents who asked me to evaluate how Singing Rock can be brought into the twenty-first century. As I’m sure you’re already aware, business sagged notably the past few years.”
“That’s due to a general dip in the economy.” Or had Mom and Dad suffered a financial blow? Was that what Paulette meant when she referred to the future of Singing Rock being on the line? “Everyone’s taking a hit, right?”
“The Evergreen property up the road is holding its own, staying filled. Each unit has internet, wide-screen TV. They offer a pool, tennis court, exercise room, buffet breakfast—”
With a laugh she held up a restraining hand. “Wait, wait, wait. Kyle Marsh’s place? Are you kidding me? That condo kingdom that comes complete with cute garages so the sports cars won’t get coated with pine pollen or spotted with sticky ponderosa sap? You can’t compare our place to his.”
“Why not? He’s the competition.”
She placed her hands on her hips, but kept her smile steady. “No, he’s not. Kyle wouldn’t know a trout from a goldfish. A canoe from a surfboard. And his upscale clientele couldn’t care less about that type of thing, either. That’s not the crowd Singing Rock caters to.”
“Maybe not currently, but—”
“There are already enough places to accommodate that other demographic. The heart of the high country is in the outdoors—fishing, hiking, stargazing. Sing-a-alongs and marshmallow roasts around a campfire.”
She shook her head, struggling not to laugh again. “Look, Rob, I assure you, Kyle’s place isn’t what Mom and Dad were alluding to when they asked you for recommendations. They’ll expect estimates on a redo of the sand volleyball lot, digging new fire pits, re-rocking the parking areas or replacing worn-out porch furniture. Do you have any idea what internal turmoil they went through before deciding it would be acceptable to put microwaves in the cabins? To build a website?”
He frowned. Again.
“So,” she said, before he could sing more praises of neighboring Evergreen. Her folks would faint dead away. “Should we take a look at this piece of artwork you called about?”
His mouth set in a grim line, Rob pushed open the glass-paned wooden door and motioned her inside. The faint, comforting scent of wood smoke and cinnamon greeted them as they stepped onto the hardwood floors of the shadowed interior. It took a moment for her daylight-accustomed eyes to adjust to the dimmer surroundings. But there was no mistaking the colorful scrawl across the cream-colored wall inside the entryway.
“NO MORE,” it proclaimed in three-foot-high letters.
“No more what?” While concerned about the defacement of the charming space and the effort it would take to remedy the perpetrator’s handiwork, a rush of relief flooded her. “I thought you said my name figured into this.”
Rob came from behind and gripped her shoulders, turning her to the left. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”
DIAZ. With a bright crimson slash through it.
“That may be my last name,” she protested with a shot of apprehension as Rob released her. “But this doesn’t have anything to do with me. Did you call the deputy again?”
Rob stepped back, gazing at the wall with a critical eye. “Not yet.”
“But you’re going to, right?”
He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, a weary gesture. “It will delay getting the place repainted. I have guests for this unit arriving Friday afternoon.”
Should she override his decision and make the call to law enforcement herself? Was it wise to challenge Rob’s authority so early in their renewed acquaintance? What if he told Paulette?
“Shouldn’t we get this on record? It isn’t a random act if someone knows my parents’ name. It’s like a personal threat.”
He met her gaze, continuing to massage his neck. “More like a major irritant. But as I told the deputy this morning, I suspect what’s been going on is a calling card left by the environmentally-minded kids I had a run-in with the first week I got here. They were well-intentioned high schoolers, up from Phoenix for the summer, would be my guess. Took exception to a tree-thinning project your folks have going along the highway side of the property to lower the risk of a major fire.”
“Wouldn’t they be back in school by now?”
“Not if they go to a private one. You know, an independent. Lots of those around these days that don’t start until after Labor Day. But if that’s the case, we should be rid of them after this weekend.”
“Can’t you have them arrested?”
“I didn’t recognize them as kids staying here, and they’ve kept themselves scarce since I warned them off.” He squared his shoulders. “But I can’t afford to lose out on the weekend’s revenue by delaying repairs. In studying the records, I noticed that except for the Fourth of July, this will be the first time this year that we’ll come close to having a full house. I have a couple of days to get Timberline and Bristlecone back in guest-ready condition, and standing here debating the issue is cutting into that time.”
“Still—”
“I guarantee you that the deputy has more important things to see to with the holiday approaching. Wouldn’t be too happy to hear from either of us for something this minor.”
She couldn’t argue with him on that point. But what would Mom and Dad do if they were here? She pulled her cell phone from where she’d clipped it to the waistband of her jeans and switched it to camera mode. “I’d at least like to get photos. In case we need evidence later.”
“Suit yourself.”
She fully intended to. And it was becoming quite clear she’d better keep an eye on Rob—in her parents’ best interests, of course.
He’d ticked her off.
He could tell by the way her chin jutted and those beautiful eyes flashed that she thought he should drag the deputy back out here. But that was a waste of everyone’s time. Time he certainly didn’t have to spare.
She didn’t seem to be in any hurry with the photos, clicking away from different angles to ensure good snapshots of the vandalized walls. But it gave him a few minutes to step out of her way, to strategize. He didn’t know how much influence she had on her parents’ decision-making, but it probably wasn’t a smart move to alienate her. He’d been caught off guard when she’d reminded him of their college connection. Hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d told her he had no intention of joining her for a walk down memory lane.
He still couldn’t risk getting too friendly. But there had to be a satisfactory middle ground.
He shot her a covert glance. Dainty little thing, but the coltish figure he remembered from the church volleyball team had filled out and the carelessly cropped hair now tumbled down her back. The once-sharp planes of her face had softened. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her when she’d stepped out on the porch earlier that morning.
She’d grown up, that was for sure.
Which was exactly why he had to walk a fine line here. Couldn’t encourage her to hang around. But neither could he again deliver an ill-thought-out comment like the one he’d made earlier in hopes of keeping her at bay. A move he’d have to make up for.
“Olivia …”
“Hang on. I’m almost done.”
“Take your time.”
She lowered her phone and spun toward him as if surprised. Had she been dawdling just to irritate him?
He met her questioning gaze. “You’re right. It’s a good idea to take photos. And if you think your parents would call the county about this, I can do that.”
Confusion flitted through her eyes. “No, that’s all right. Like you said, there’s nothing for the deputy to see that he can’t analyze in a few good photos.”
“If you’re sure.” He ducked his head and again rubbed a hand along his neck, hoping she didn’t detect his relief. Now he could get to that painting without delay. He glanced back at her. “And I’m sorry about earlier this morning.”
She tilted her head in question.
“You know, when you mentioned catching up on our college days? I really didn’t mean to sound so—” He paused, fishing for an appropriate word.
“Rude?” she asked brightly.
His startled gaze bored into hers. “It was rude, wasn’t it?”
She scrunched her face. “Mmm. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a twelve since it was in front of my big sister.”
“Hey, I’m really sorry. I won’t make excuses, but please don’t take it personally. It’s just that—”
“Look, Rob.” Her eyes filled with a puzzling sympathy as she stepped forward to lay a reassuring hand on his arm. “You don’t need to worry that I’ll say anything to anyone about … well, you know.”
The muscles in his throat constricted. How did she—?
“It’s no one else’s business that Gretchen dumped you in front of God and everybody. It was a long time ago.” She cut him a mischievous look. “And besides, we’re all entitled to look like an idiot once in a while, right?”
Time stood still as he stared at her, trying to assimilate her words. Then he threw back his head and laughed. Gretchen. She thought his ill-at-ease behavior was about Gretchen. Thank You, God. Of course she wouldn’t know about anything that had transpired since their NAU days.
Wonderment lighting her face, she laughed, too, apparently relieved to see him taking her blunt comment so well.
After several more moments of unconstrained laughter, he wiped at an eye, chuckled and shook his head, getting himself under control. “Oh, man. An idiot, huh? Thank you, Olivia, for sharing that tender sentiment with me. It’s always good to know how old acquaintances feel about you.”
She gazed up at him, face aglow with the almost-worshipful expression he remembered from college.
It sunk his momentary relief like a rock.
Olivia’s heart did a loop-de-loop as she got an unexpected glimpse of the Rob of old—the flash of even white teeth and gray eyes dancing in merriment. It was the first unrestrained response she’d gotten out of him. And boy, was it worth the wait.
“I’ve had more than my share of public humiliations,” she assured, smiling up at him and marveling at the transformation. Maybe Paulette was right. His bad experience in Vegas had driven him inside himself. Put him on his guard.
Now she’d have to figure out a way to keep him from retreating again. She’d have to be fast. The light in his eyes had already dimmed.
“So where’s the paint, huh?” She looped her arm through his, feeling him flinch as her bare arm made contact with his rock-solid one.
“You want to paint?”
“Sure. What else do I have to do today?”
“Maybe see your family? Relax? That’s what vacations are for, right?”
She shrugged, not wanting to explain why she’d come back to Canyon Springs. He might not take it kindly that her plans included worming her way back into Singing Rock management. “There’s plenty of time to fulfill familial obligations.”
“Well, then—” He slipped out of her light grasp and stepped away, almost as if relieved to put some distance between them. “I have primer and paint back at the lodge. Rollers, brushes and drop cloths.”
Gazing happily at him, she winked. “So let’s get to it, Mr. McGuire.”
And knock off with the frowning.
“How’s it going up there in the Northland, Rob?” His mom’s words echoed through the cell phone as slivers of Wednesday morning’s dawn penetrated the thick stand of pines. Cloudless sky at the moment, but end-of-monsoon-season rains filled the forecast. “Is Canyon Springs everything Meg painted it to be?”
Settling himself on the lodge’s porch steps, he took a sip from his coffee, savoring the warmth on this chilly morning. Hard to believe overnight lows could be in the fifties this time of year. His little sister had made a big deal about the cool, more-than-a-mile-high-elevation summers in Canyon Springs. Sure beat baking under a desert sun.
“Haven’t really gotten out that much in the community, Mom. An errand here and there. But it’s beautiful country. And everyone seems friendly enough.”
Not too nosy.
He took another sip of coffee as his gaze took in the forest clearing—Paul and Rosa’s cabin, still dark at this early hour—and their youngest daughter’s silver coupe parked outside. While his sister sang the praises of small-town America, assuring him Canyon Springs was the cure for whatever ailed you, she’d failed to mention her husband’s attractive, vivacious cousin in that portrait of the community she’d wooed him with.
He’d done his best to keep as far from Olivia as he could while priming the damaged cabin walls yesterday morning. But over and over she’d invaded his personal space, standing too close, brushing against his arm. Talking, smiling, laughing the whole time—and dragging him in on it—totally oblivious of the fact he’d rather be left alone.
“Do you see Meg often?” His mother’s voice drew him back to the present, away from memories of the sunny animation that characterized Olivia Diaz.
“Like I’ve said before, she’s teaching and it’s hard for me to get away from here. But she and Davy brought me dinner Monday night when Joe was out working his shift, and we enjoyed catching up. She’s sure loving that stepson of hers. And she glows when she talks about her job and Joe.”
“Good. But I hope her feelings about the town haven’t given you unrealistic expectations. She tends to see it through rose-colored glasses.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. You know me, my feet are planted firmly on the ground.”
She didn’t immediately reply and the silence stretched.
“What?” he pressed, not certain he wanted to hear what she had on her mind.
“Little towns talk.”
He took a deep breath and set the mug on the porch. “I know.”
“I don’t want to see you hurt, honey.”
“I don’t want that, either. But Vegas, Phoenix—any big city—they’re out of the question now.”
“You’re still having trouble dealing with what happened.”
No point in denying it.
“Try having a gun put to your head and see how you’d be doing.” He forced a chuckle, hoping to allay his mother’s concern. But he squeezed his eyes shut as the muscles in his stomach tightened and he broke out in a light sweat. Just as he did each time he relived the cold steel pressed against his temple—remembered what he’d come so close to losing. “But I like the job. I like what I’ve seen of the town. My employers are putting their faith in me and I intend to deliver.”
He heard a disturbance in the background at the other end of the line. A familiar, plaintive, high-pitched voice. Then his mother’s reassuring murmurs. Her laugh.
“There’s someone here who wants to talk to you, Rob.”
“Put her on.” His spirits rose in anticipation.
More commotion. The sound of the phone being dropped. Recovered. Then a heavy breathiness coming through the receiver, pulsing warmly across the miles.
“Is that you, Angie?” he teased, his heart warming. He lived for these phone calls. “What are you doing up so early, pumpkin?”
A giggle tickled his ears.
“Daddy!”
Chapter Four
No doubt about it, Rob was trying to avoid her.
When they’d finished painting at Bristlecone yesterday, he turned down her invitation for a jaunt to Camilla’s Café for lunch. Looking uncomfortable, he’d hustled off, claiming he had an important phone call to make. She hadn’t seen him the rest of the day. In fact, not until a short while ago when he settled himself on the steps of the lodge’s front porch.
Peeking from behind a lacy curtain at her folks’ house, she’d watched as he pulled out his cell phone and dived into a conversation as he savored his morning coffee. The chat appeared to start out light, then got serious. But by the time it wrapped up, he seemed in a good mood. Smiling. Laughing. Even with the window open, she couldn’t hear specific words from across the clearing. He kept his voice low. But she could hear his teasing tones. The laugh.
A business call? Not likely. Unless girlfriend business.
Which would explain a lot of things. Like why, although he apologized about his earlier brusque behavior, he still hadn’t encouraged anything but conversational superficialities. Certainly no “remember when” stuff. He’d remained pretty much Mr. Sobersides. Still seemed on edge even when they’d gotten that Gretchen issue out of the way. He’d laughed about that. Seemed to loosen up. Then shut down again.
Maybe his girlfriend was the jealous type, whose ire he didn’t want to raise by mentioning an old college acquaintance—a female one at that. A clingy, suspicious woman didn’t deserve a man like Rob. Two-timing wasn’t in his vocabulary. Squeaky-clean. Principled. High standards both for himself and others. If you couldn’t trust a guy like that, who could you trust? If his lady friend had reservations about the very foundation that made up Rob McGuire, she didn’t stand a chance of hanging on to him for long.
Which meant he might soon be in the market for a new one?
When he shut off his cell and reentered the lodge, Olivia dashed off to don a sweatshirt, then rushed across the clearing. Her timing coincided with him coming out again and heading to the Jeep. He certainly looked more than fine this morning in that blue chambray shirt, jeans and work boots.
She stopped not far from him, slipping her hands into her back pockets. “Hey, Rob.”
“You’re an early bird.” His low voice rumbled, as if not yet quite awake.
“Ready for Timberline, how about you?”
From the uncertainty flickering through his eyes, he’d obviously hoped he could slip off without being seen. “Plenty to do out there. But you know what would help me most?”
She shook her head. Whatever it was, she’d deliver.
“I could use a few things from town, if you wouldn’t mind running an errand for me.” He pulled out his wallet, peeled off half a dozen twenties and handed them to her along with a slip of paper containing his compact script.
Yep. He was trying to avoid her.
She flashed him a perky smile, not letting on that she knew this was busywork to get her out of his hair—an effort to appease his green-eyed girlfriend. The list did seem legitimate. Not too extensive. Items for cleaning and repair work.
“I think you can get everything at the discount house. Or Dix’s Woodland Warehouse may have some of it, too. I imagine both will be open even this early in the morning.”
She stuffed the bills into the front pocket of her jeans, then studied the list more closely. “No substitutes for the brands you have here?”
“Not if you can help it.”
“I’ll call if I can’t find your first choice. Let you decide from what’s available. What’s your cell number?” She hadn’t thought to get it off Paulette’s phone.
Without hesitation, he handed her a Singing Rock business card. Main phone number, address, website. His name and personal cell number.
“Thanks.” She tucked it in her back pocket. If he already had cards printed up, proclaiming him to be the property’s manager, it appeared he had a long-term stint in mind. Which could be problematic.
“From the list you gave Paulette earlier, it looked as if the damage was more extensive at Timberline than Bristlecone.”
“Considerably. Bristlecone was a paint job. But Timberline has a busted lock. Broken window. Totally trashed, like Pinyon. A least these incidents should be the last of it.”
“You mean if it’s those kids who’ll head home after the holiday weekend?”
“Right. Then maybe we’ll have peace and quiet around here.” Rob turned toward the Jeep.
“I’ll bring everything straight out to Timberline.”
“You don’t have to do that. Set everything inside the side door of the office. Give me a call and I’ll pick it up. I don’t want you spending your whole vacation on Singing Rock repairs.”
Or following him around?
Rob seemed under the impression she’d be here for Labor Day weekend, then on her way. Or was that wishful thinking on his part?
“It’s no trouble. Besides, I’d like to look at the damage.”
“May not be much to see by the time you return.” At least he politely refrained from pointing out that she’d turned down the opportunity to look it over when the deputy suggested it. “I made some headway on it yesterday afternoon. If I get the mess cleaned up, I can move on to the repairs faster.”
Not knowing he’d intended to jump ahead on the clean up without her yesterday, she’d run errands, stocked up on groceries and returned Paulette’s phone to her. Why hadn’t she thought to inspect Timberline first? What if her folks called? How could she report knowledgably on the situation, like a manager would do, if she couldn’t provide an eyewitness evaluation?
She glanced at the list again. “This shouldn’t take too long. Maybe you’ll still need help by the time I get back.”
He frowned—surprise, surprise—then nodded. “Suit yourself.”
Suit yourself. That seemed to be his standard, noncommittal response to her suggestions. Undoubtedly he’d get that cabin cleaned up and repaired in record time, ensuring little remained for her to assist with. But she was a power shopper, not given to lingering in the aisles like many ladies loved to do. She preferred to have a list in hand and get in and get out.
So they’d see who beat whom… .
Rob glanced at his watch again, then toward the center of the cabin’s main room piled high with debris he’d gathered from the wreckage. Why did things always take longer than you thought they would? Olivia would be back before he knew it.
As at Pinyon last week, malicious visitors had done their best to render the space uninhabitable. Fortunately, except for the lock and window, damage was relatively superficial, but time-consuming to clean up.
When he’d worked for a Flagstaff property management business in college, he’d seen far worse. Whoever had done this was an amateur by comparison. At least here cement hadn’t been poured down the toilet to harden.
But it was a mess nevertheless. Feathers from sliced-up pillows floated around like snowy confetti and the contents of salt, pepper, coffee and sugar containers covered the floor in a gritty coating. If he’d have been smart, he’d have done the in-town errands himself and assigned Olivia to tackle the cleaning. Or rousted out his part-time assistant manager to wield the mop and vacuum, even if it was his day off.
On his drive out to Timberline, he’d rechecked the other vacant cabins. Found another “tagged” overnight. A back door window pane had been broken where they could reach in and unlock the door. Like here, coffee packet contents had been strewn about along with sugar and salt. Not trashed as badly as this one, but so much for hopes that they’d seen the last of the hooligans.
He’d told Olivia he suspected kids were the culprits. But he couldn’t be certain of that. He didn’t like to think it might be the beginning of something more serious. These cabins farthest from the Singing Rock lodge hadn’t been occupied for the past month or more. Had they become handy hideouts for adults with more criminal intent?
The muscles in his upper arms tightened at the thought of walking blindly into another situation like the one of a month-and-a-half ago. He hurled a battered foam pillow to the growing pile of debris, the abrupt, fierce motion momentarily easing the tension in his shoulders.
“You’re letting yourself get spooked, bud,” he muttered aloud. Hadn’t Paul and Rosa shown him around the property when he’d come for the interview a few weeks ago? He’d ventured out this way on his own since then, too. None of those times had there been evidence of recent occupation. No telltale signs or scents that might accompany alcohol or drug use. Drug manufacturing.
No, it had to be those kids. Well-intentioned teens who feared that tree thinning and the related loss of the thick undergrowth between the pines would reduce ground cover for small animals. Admittedly, it would for a time. But it also served as a safeguard against a massive conflagration. He’d been witness to the devastation caused by lightning or abandoned campfires in mountain country. Hundreds, thousands or even hundreds of thousands of acres of pristine ponderosa pine forest reduced to charred rubble. Nothing remaining to harbor any animal, feathered or furry, for a good hundred years or more.
He could handle the kids. But the thought of adult trespassers gnawed at his mind. Only weeks ago, when he’d walked out of the interview with a job offer, Canyon Springs seemed an answered prayer. Ideal for raising his precious two-year-old daughter, Angela.
Sweet Angie.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he recalled her wispy brown hair. Soft, flawless skin. Big gray eyes focused trustingly on him, her tiny hand cradled in his.
His hands fisted. He’d protect her with his dying breath.
Had it just been a few weeks ago as he’d lain in bed awaiting the blare of the alarm clock, that he’d meditated on the comforting realization that for the first time in a long time he’d listened for and heard God’s voice? Had obediently walked through the door he believed God opened. But now his decision seemed tainted. Criminal activity shattered the illusion of safety.
He glanced at the open door as his ears picked up the crunch of gravel from an approaching vehicle. The sound of an engine shutting off. The slam of a door.
Olivia. How could she be back so soon? It wasn’t even nine o’clock. He took a deep breath.
“Rob! Rob!”
A prickling sensation raced up his spine at the desperation in her voice. He launched himself out the front door.
“Hurry, Rob!”
Olivia jumped up from where she knelt beside a shivering and bloodied Elmo. She took a quick step toward the cabin, then halted. Swung back toward the whimpering animal whose soulful brown eyes focused on her. She dropped again to her knees beside the crouching pup, its tail wagging a halfhearted greeting. And then Rob was there beside her.
“What happened? Did you hit him?”
What kind of assumption was that? “No, but it looks like someone did.”
With gentle fingers, Rob inspected the pup, cupping its head and lifting it slightly as he bent to get a better look at the damage. “He’s got quite a cut here. Look at the dried blood. And it’s still oozing.”
“Is he going to be okay?” She gave Elmo’s flank a reassuring pat.
With a yelp, the pup’s head jerked toward her, eyes filled with pain. She yanked her hand back, but the good-natured dog didn’t snap at her.
“Looks like that cut isn’t his sole problem. We need to get him to a vet.” He glanced at her as his bloodied hands stroked the little lab. “I hate to move him, but he’s lost considerable blood. Could you run back in there and grab a sheet? There’s an old one in the pile on the middle of the floor.”
She nodded and staggered to her feet. Inside she found the wadded-up fabric and pulled it free. Raced back to Rob’s side.
“Spread it out next to him. Then fold it in half. I’ll see if I can lift him onto it without hurting him too much.”
She did as she was told. Still on his knees, Rob carefully gathered the whimpering pup into his arms and lowered him onto the cotton cloth.
“You’re getting blood all over you.”
Rob swiped at the front of his now-stained T-shirt, then brushed his hair back with a forearm, leaving a crimson streak across his forehead.
“Let’s get this wrapped around him. Then I’ll carry him to the Jeep. I’ll drive. You hold him.”
She nodded, watching in apprehension as he swaddled Elmo in the sheet and lifted him into his arms. The pup didn’t struggle, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad.
At the open-topped Jeep Wrangler, Rob nodded toward the passenger side of the vehicle. “Hop on in and buckle up.”
She obeyed, then he gently lowered the pup onto her lap. Its pitiful little face turned to keep a watchful eye on Rob.
“Got him? He’s an armful.”
“He’s really shaking, isn’t he?”
“Probably in shock.” Rob took her hand and laid it against the pup’s sheet-swathed shoulder. “If you can press firmly right about here, maybe that will slow the blood flow.”
Then he gently pushed her knee out of harm’s way and slammed the door. Loped to the other side and climbed into the driver’s seat. His countenance creased as he glanced at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded in apparent approval as he started the engine, then backed the Jeep enough to swing it around and head for the rock-and-dirt road that wound through the Singing Rock property. Acutely aware of gravel crunching under the tires and the sun dappling through the pines overhead, she adjusted her hold on Elmo as his warm body continued to shiver in her arms. “I wonder what happened to him?”
“No tellin’.” Rob eased the vehicle around a sharp corner. “Maybe something fell on him. He’s rather accident-prone.”
“Is he?” She glanced down at Elmo and gave him a gentle squeeze, praying he’d be okay. “Poor little guy.”
The pup lifted his nose and swiped a tongue across her chin. She glanced up in time to see a smile tug at Rob’s lips. Where was her camera when she needed it? Record that one for posterity.
He nodded toward the pup. “Looks as if he thinks he’s found a friend.”
“For life,” she said, bracing her feet as they jolted along the rutted, winding road. Passing by another of the property’s cabins, its guests relaxing on the porch, she marveled at the day’s turn of events. When she’d awakened that morning, never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined she’d be on a rescue mission with an injured dog that wasn’t hers. Or with Rob McGuire, for that matter.
He wasn’t hers, either.
Yet.
She directed her smile at Elmo. “Hang in there, Rob’s going to save you.”
Halfway across a creek that snaked through Singing Rock’s acreage, the Jeep jerked to a halt on the weathered bridge. Rob stuck his arm out the window, motioning to a muscular, Western-hatted man picking his way along the edge of the water, a fishing pole and tackle box in hand.
“Brett!”
The man, dressed in jeans and a collarless blue knit shirt, waved back with a broad smile. But when Rob crept the Jeep to the other side, it must have registered that the tone and gestures weren’t of a happy nature. The man swiftly hopped across the rocks, then scrambled up the embankment, apprehension evident in his features.
“Your mutt got into something again,” Rob explained as the man came up to his door. “We’re taking him to a vet. You comin’?”
The man’s questioning gaze swept to Elmo. Then to her.
Say no. Please, please, please?
She wanted to ride to town with Rob.
Alone.
Chapter Five
“Oh, for cryin’—” Scowling, the cowboy-hatted man moved to Olivia’s side of the vehicle to take a closer look at the bundle in her arms. “What is it this time?”
Cradling the pooch, she addressed the man she assumed was Singing Rock’s assistant manager. “Not sure. He’s got a bad cut. Maybe internal injuries. Or broken bones.”
Rob drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “So, you comin’?”
“Yeah, yeah.” The man threw his fishing gear in the back and pulled himself into the rear seat. “I need insurance on that pooch.”
“What you need is to keep him on a leash or penned up. Those are the rules.”
“Tell that to Elmo. He makes Houdini look like an amateur. Dug out again in the night.”
The Jeep jerked as Rob put it in gear, then continued down the narrow, tree-lined road. The other man maneuvered around in the back, getting himself situated before turning his attention to Olivia. He cast her a lopsided, engaging grin. “Rob didn’t tell me he had a canine paramedic on staff.”
“Olivia, meet Brett Marden, Singing Rock second in command.” Rob eased the vehicle to the edge of the highway, leaning forward to look for approaching traffic. “Brett, meet Olivia Diaz. Paul and Rosa’s daughter.”
“You don’t say?” The sandy-haired man’s eyebrows rose and he whipped off his Western straw in a respectful gesture. His eyes appraised her in an openly appreciative but inoffensive manner. “Good to meet you, Olivia. Mighty good.”
Rob’s brows lowered as he turned onto the highway. Ignoring Brett, he looked over at the pup. “How’s he doing?”
“Still shivering.”
“Lucky dog.” Brett resettled his hat on his head, then gave his pet a gentle pat.
“Lucky?” She glanced from Rob to his assistant. “I got the impression from you guys that he is majorly unlucky.”
“Depends on how you look at it.” Brett squinted against the sunshine pouring through the roofless Jeep. “Porcupine quills are the devil to pull out of a sensitive nose. Skunk odors linger forever. But whatever he’s done to himself this time managed to get an exceptionally beautiful woman fawning over him. So I’d say it evens out.”
Olivia laughed, recognizing a well-practiced flirt. Plenty of fun, but usually not a whole lot of substance.
Rob’s forehead creased. Lips tightened. What was his problem? Did he think she wasn’t smart enough to spot Brett’s over-the-top flattery?
As their speed picked up, wind whipped through the open Jeep and Olivia wished she’d put her hair in a ponytail and donned sunglasses. Ducking her head, she attempted to turn from the cool morning blast, but without success. Long, whiplike strands of hair slapped mercilessly at her eyes and mouth. She squinted, helpless with her hands occupied by the pup. Then from behind, a hand scooped back her unruly mane, holding it in a secure grip.
“Thanks.” She cast Brett a grateful smile and received a dimpled one in return.
He winked. “Anytime.”
Rob’s ever-present frown deepened as he turned off the highway and onto the road leading into town. What was up with him? Like it would kill him to smile once in a while.
The Vegas incident had apparently done a number on him. But if he couldn’t loosen up any more than he had thus far—except for that too-short interlude yesterday morning—he’d never make a go of Singing Rock management.
If there was anything she knew about what it took for her folks to run the enterprise successfully, it was that hospitality and flexibility were the keys. Adapting at a moment’s notice to whatever came your way. Exuding warmth, acceptance and generosity even when you’d rather slam the door in someone’s face. Finding a way to accommodate even the most difficult personalities without showing so much as a hint of annoyance.
Rob flunked that one this morning.
For whatever reason, Brett annoyed him.
Rob glanced at his watch as Olivia and his assistant manager finally reboarded the Jeep—without Elmo. Eleven o’clock. What had taken them so long? After dropping off the pooch, he’d returned to Singing Rock until Olivia called for a pick-up. But from the looks of it, he should have stuck around to chaperone. The pair seemed too cozy, with Brett’s arm draped familiarly around Olivia’s shoulder when they’d exited the vet’s office. Maybe he should warn her. Clue her in to steer clear of the flirtatious ladies’ man. After all, she had been his “little sis in Christ” at NAU. Which obligated him to look out for her best interests—and Brett Marden wasn’t one of them.
Why were ladies always such suckers for cowboys? Not sure what the attraction was. Must be the hat. Whatever was up between them, though, it was none of his business. She could make her own decisions. She was a grown woman now. Nobody with two eyes in his head could argue with that. Least of all him.
“How’s the pup?” Ignoring his assistant, he directed the question to Olivia as she settled her pretty self beside him. Buckled her seat belt. She must have cleaned up at the vet’s, as evidence of Elmo’s bloody adventure had vanished from her hands and forearms. He’d taken time back at his apartment to clean up, as well. Changed shirts.
“All sewn up. No broken bones. Appear to be no internal injuries. Severe bruising of his hip. But Dr. Sikeston wants to keep him overnight.”
“For observation,” Brett confirmed.
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