by Glynna Kaye
We. He increasingly dropped that word into conversations, a reminder that soon she’d be back in school and he’d be calling the shots here. “That’s assuming another opportunity does arise.”
He gave a confident nod. “It will. Granted, it may not be dropped in our lap like this last one was. We may have to go looking for it.”
“I don’t know, Cash...” It wasn’t in her nature to be a stick in the mud, but lately everything seemed to take effort, seemed overwhelming. Going back to school, Cash’s arrival, the Tallington thing. Even the vow she’d made to God to make something of her life for Him in exchange for an answered prayer weighed more heavily than it ought to.
Running his finger around the rim of his coffee mug, Cash gave her an encouraging look. “I know you’re reluctant to move ahead on what we discussed Monday night before that call came in, so I’ve been hesitant to bring it up. But there’s no reason we shouldn’t take the lead in rethinking things. Making improvements that will prepare us for the future.”
His enthusiasm was almost endearing, but... “There’s no rush now, though. We’ve been given a reprieve. And with our big Memorial Day weekend kickoff starting tomorrow, we’re going to have our hands more than full for the rest of the summer.”
“And what better time to try out new ideas? Get immediate, real-world feedback. If something doesn’t work, we tweak it or replace it entirely with a better alternative. No waiting and wondering and theorizing.”
He had a point. And, interestingly, it was becoming increasingly clear that the Hunter clan wouldn’t intimidate him once he set his mind to something. He’d hold his own here among the descendants of the hardy Hunter stock of a century ago. Maybe better than she could. She’d, unfortunately, proved to be less confident, less savvy than she’d long pretended to be. Had that changed at all since she’d fled college? Had she grown? Could she trust herself to make good on her vow?
So much was at stake.
“No,” he continued, “we won’t have much time during the day with things as busy as they’ll be, but we can knock out ideas in the evenings, can’t we? See if we can get the ball rolling.”
She reached for another creamer packet, then tensed as she glimpsed Eliot and his father making their way to the back of the dining room, where staff generally congregated around a trestle table near the kitchen in mealtime shifts.
“Relax, Rio.” Cash leaned slightly forward, a twinkle in his eyes. “I don’t think either of them will be coming over here to haul me out of my chair because almost a decade and a half ago I cheered my father on in a fistfight. Okay, maybe Eliot would jump at the chance, but not in his father’s presence.”
She responded with a half-hearted smile.
“I noticed you haven’t been joining the other employees for meals this week. That’s included in your wage package. It’s a good opportunity to get to know people you’ll be working with, too.”
“But there’s no point in making the Greers uncomfortable right off the bat now, is there?” He took another sip of his coffee. “Besides, I try to eat with Joey as often as I can.”
Rio again cut a glance at long-time employee Jeb Greer, a big, meaty-around-the-middle man now in his late forties. A dependable guy, he’d worked at the Hideaway in a variety of roles requiring muscle power, which he possessed in spades.
“Thinking back fourteen years,” she mused aloud, “it’s amazing your father took on a man that size, isn’t it?”
Cash’s brows lowered as he pushed away his coffee mug. Maybe she shouldn’t have reminded him of Hodgson again.
He placed his napkin on the table. “My father didn’t always think straight. Wasn’t known for good judgment.”
“Maybe so, but Jeb was twice his size. And your father won.”
A faint smile touched Cash’s lips. “You think so? He lost his job. Lost the Hunter family’s trust. Lost what little respect I had for him once I understood what was going on.”
Feeling justifiably chastised, she ducked her head slightly as she downed the last of her coffee. No, Hodgson hadn’t won. Far from it.
“So what do you say, Rio?” Catching their waitress as she passed, Cash handed her the leather check holder and shook his head that no change was needed. Then, looking at Rio, he stood and nodded toward the door. “Tallington may be out of the picture, but I don’t imagine they’re the sole company recommending event sites. Has that been explored in the past?”
Grateful for the change in subject, she stood as well and accompanied him into the inn’s lobby. “As far as I know, the Hunters haven’t researched outside booking companies before now.”
“So there you go. Opportunity awaits.” He held open the main door and they stepped outside, then headed to the trail ride office tacked onto the end of the string of adjoining Hideaway buildings. He unlocked the door and they stepped inside a space where riders checked in, secured purses or backpacks, and got fitted for hats, helmets or even boots, if needed.
She slipped behind the waist-high, oak-slabbed counter and booted up the computer. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
She was ashamed she hadn’t come up with more definitive ideas of her own, had instead been of a mind-set to shoot down whatever he came up with. But that wasn’t fair. Not to him. Not to the Hideaway. But she’d had much on her mind lately, especially with her mom’s next cancer scan coming up.
Cash bumped one of the boot-fitting benches with his knee to align it with the other one, then straightened boots lining a wall shelf. “I think we’re both in agreement—if you’re willing to admit it—that the Hideaway is never going to be competition for the upscale dude ranches scattered around the state.”
“As I pointed out earlier, that was never our intention.” She entered her password and logged into the reservations database. “We don’t run cattle, despite Uncle Doug’s opinion that adding a few might boost the bottom line.”
Cash chuckled as he straightened another pair of boots, then stepped back to view his handiwork. “As much as I enjoyed working cattle at Cantor Creek, I don’t think that’s the answer here.”
“Of course, it’s not. The Hideaway’s always been a rustic outpost for hunters of elk, deer, javelina and what have you. An out of the way, deliberately under-commercialized setting for horsemen and hikers. It’s a haven for outdoor enthusiasts who want to enjoy nature, sit down to a hearty meal among like-minded folks and collapse into a comfortable bed at night.”
He glanced over at her. “There you go, then. Don’t apologize for what you have here. That rustic element is exactly what we need to play up, not play down.”
Unlike her first impression, he was at odds with Uncle Doug’s posh plans. She hadn’t expected that. “What our guests want is authenticity of experiences, not pseudo-replication of them like at an amusement park.”
“You won’t hear arguments from me. I mean, when I got up this morning, there were two deer in front of the cabin. I woke Joey up early so he could see them.”
“So we both agree—surprise, surprise—that the Hideaway is a specialty niche. That we should play up the outdoorsy element.” She leaned her forearms on the counter. “But while I can see how that might translate for things overall, how do we underscore that in the horse operation? I mean, a trail ride is a trail ride, right?”
He moved to the hat racks, where he transferred a misplaced pint-size helmet to the kids’ section. “Yes and no.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Well, I think there are a few safety-related factors that need to be addressed around the barns and corrals. But what we need to reevaluate are our offerings. Starting tomorrow, there will be three standard rides both in the morning and afternoon, switching out the routes so as not to bore the horses or repeat visitors.”
“Right.” They’d been doing that as long as she could remember. Not a whole
lot of hassle.
“So, instead of the same old same old, what if we threw in some variety? Something to entice newcomers—but also to lure back those who’ve ‘been there done that’ with us before.” He moved to the counter opposite her and, eyes bright with excitement, leaned in on his forearms, too. “Say...a morning breakfast ride? Half-day and full-day rides? Overnight camping? We could offer old-time photography where folks dress up in Western gear to get their mugs taken with a horse. Maybe provide a kid corral birthday party with pony rides, cake and ice cream.”
“Whoa, mister. That sounds like a ton of work.” Actually, it sounded like a ton of fun. But she wouldn’t be here for much of it going forward. Would miss out.
“You don’t strike me as the kind to be afraid of a little work.” Eyes twinkling, Cash tapped her forearm playfully and a tingle zipped up her arm.
“I said it sounds like a ton of work.” She did say that, didn’t she? With Cash studying her, that engaging smile playing on his lips, her thoughts were jumbling. “We’d have to rearrange schedules to ensure horse and wrangler availability. Provide adequate supervision for a kids’ party. Budget for camping equipment and get Forest Service approvals for the longer rides and overnighters.”
He shrugged, not intimidated by her lengthy list of objections.
“And the old-time photography thing?” she said, her gaze still snagged by his. “While appealing to guests, that could get complicated. Could spook the horses.”
“Easy there, girl. Just brainstorming.” He brushed his finger along her forearm, and another tingling spark raced across her skin. Although his eyes teased, his soothing tone was akin to the murmurs she’d heard him utter when trying to bridle Wild Card. Gentle. Reassuring. Luring her in...to where he could easily catch the unsuspecting mare.
She stepped abruptly away from the counter.
“We don’t have to change it up all at once,” he said hurriedly, undoubtedly sensing she was about to bolt. “Trial runs throughout the summer. See what gets a thumbs-up from our guests.”
“You’ve given this considerable thought.” But would her family go for it? Approve the funds?
He pushed off the counter as well, but his teasing gaze didn’t let up. “So what do you say, Princess? Are you up to the challenge?”
* * *
To Cash’s amazement, she was, despite her initial objections.
And after a crazy busy Memorial Day weekend—the weekly business meeting being moved to Tuesday night to accommodate the holiday—it didn’t take a whole lot of persuading on Cash’s part to win the family over to budgeting a trial run of a handful of ideas that Rio and he’d agreed on. She jumped in to support his recommendations and together they’d promoted a unified overall “play up what we’ve got” theme that everyone—except her uncle Doug—bought into with undisguised relief.
For the next three weeks, they reworked schedules, giving the breakfast and half-day rides with a brown-bag lunch a trial run. Those had filled up fast once posted on the website and around the Hideaway. Full days and overnighters were on hold. Birthday parties and photo ops, too. But they were plenty busy anyway.
Somehow, in the midst of it all, Cash found time to work with Wild Card, and without any prompting, Joey even asked Rio to lead him around the corral on Misty a few times, then for daily lessons. So far so good, with both adults having agreed it had to be the youngster’s idea all the way.
“Is that one of the projects on the mile-long list you said you had?”
Cash looked up to where Rio had paused to watch him as he crouched to sand a wood railing in one of the corrals at the end of the day. A few weeks ago her comment might have had a disapproving ring to it. But today it merely held a curious note.
“Yep. I imagine I’ll be at this kind of stuff throughout the summer. Smoothing rough edges and splinters that could catch on clothing or skin. Wires to clip. Aging boards to replace.”
“Good idea, but there’s no rush now, so don’t push yourself too hard with everything else we have going.”
That response was particularly remarkable, if a little unsettling, for they seemed to have fallen into a relatively peaceful routine. Not that they didn’t butt heads daily—who’d have thought what was on the breakfast ride menu would prove to be a contentious topic? Or deciding which horses should be allotted for the half-day rides? But for the most part, they were aligned with a mutual goal to expand the Hideaway’s horse operation offerings and get things in shape for the next shot at a Tallington-type proposition.
It was a good feeling. But a dangerous one in some respects, at least from his point of view. While as spunky as ever, Rio’s gentle side was coming out more and more. Not only with her pregnant mare and Joey, but with him, too.
And yet...she didn’t trust him.
He swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth. That truth hit home last night when he and Joey had run out for milk and eggs and a store clerk caught him off guard by talking openly of Elaine Hunter—Rio’s mom—having cancer. He wasn’t sure what to think of the apparent secrecy, but it had been weighing on his mind. The incident cut deep. Maybe because, if even in a small way after a month at the Hideaway, he was starting to feel like a part of the extended Hunter family. Shouldn’t Rio have told him about something that important?
Obviously, that was his perception—a foolish one—not hers.
With the sun dipping behind the tops of the pines, she now lingered watching him work as though it was the most natural thing in the world to hang out with him. She wasn’t chatting as she often did, though. Something was on her mind, so he wasn’t surprised when she finally spoke up.
“You know, Cash, I’m not trying to stick my nose in your business, but have you noticed Joey doesn’t talk about his mom?”
He did not want to discuss Lorilee, but since Rio was spending so much time with his son, maybe he shouldn’t shut her out entirely. “No, he doesn’t.”
He gave the fence board an extra hard swipe with the sanding block in his hand. He should have used the cordless sander, rather than going at it with this labor intensive route. But he’d felt the need to apply himself physically, a standby therapy that came in handy when something bothered him, when his patience grew thin.
The nicker of a horse carried from the barn as Rio leaned back against a section of fence beyond where he was working. “You said that until recently he lived with her—not you—from the time he was two. So doesn’t, I don’t know...doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
He’d noticed it, too, and wondered about it. But he hadn’t pushed the issue or tried to force Joey into talking other than reminding him that he was available to listen. The kid had his reasons. “When he wants to talk, he’ll talk.”
“You said she was getting remarried, right? Where is she now?”
“Good question. I’ve been trying for weeks to track her down when I have time. The two of us have business to tend to regarding Joey.”
“At least you have custody.”
He rocked back on his heels to look up at her. She might not trust him, but did that mean he shouldn’t trust her? “That’s the thing. I...don’t have custody.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “But I thought—”
“I don’t have legal custody. I currently have what you might call possession. His grandma dropped him off with a note from Lorilee, but his mama’s cell phone number is no longer a working one, and nobody’s inclined to tell me where she and her latest husband have gotten themselves off to.”
“So she could turn up tomorrow and take him back?”
“She could.” But while he couldn’t afford a private investigator, he’d followed Will’s advice and retained a lawyer, just in case.
He rose to his feet. Dusted off a pant leg, barely able to disguise a grimace when he glimpsed Eliot Greer climbing into a pickup just beyo
nd the far side of the corral, his disgruntled expression spelling out displeasure at finding Rio in Cash’s company.
“So you can see why I don’t push my boy to discuss her. Maybe why I’m not trying that hard to find her. I don’t think Joey or I want to invite her shadow in on this precious window of time we have together.”
An ache in his heart echoed that honest admission.
She nibbled her lower lip. “You sound like you don’t think it’s permanent.”
He gazed up at the puffy clouds overhead now catching the final rays of daylight in a showy display of pinks and purples.
“I hope and pray it is, but until I hold the official piece of paper in my hand...” He shook his head. “Personally, I suspect it won’t be long until it hits her that once I have legal custody of Joey, the child support payments stop.”
“I imagine that support money would come in handy right now. For Joey’s expenses, I mean. Clothes. Food. Babysitter.” She pushed away from the fence. “This really helps me understand your situation better.”
Didn’t she see that there were things he could understand better, too, if she’d come clean with him? Trusted him enough to tell him her mother wasn’t well instead of letting him blunder around in the dark and hear it from a grocery store clerk?
He fisted his hand and whacked the side of it soundly against the flat of the fence board. Rio jumped.
“Sorry. I guess I’m more than frustrated right now, with...with the evasiveness of Joey’s mother.”
“I can see why. But you know, Cash, if money is tight and there are things you need for Joey, my family can—”
“We’re good.” The wince in her eyes clued him in that he’d spoken too sharply. He gentled his tone. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle it. This is temporary. I have a friend who’s a deputy sheriff doing what he can to locate my ex, so it’s only a matter of time before our lawyers get together and hash things out.”