by Glynna Kaye
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 m
other 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.”