by Glynna Kaye
But he hadn’t counted on the arrival of Olivia.
It was hard enough to admit to strangers that you’d fathered a child with a woman you weren’t married to, and who wanted no part of you or your child. But locals hadn’t known him before. Didn’t know how at one time he’d set an example for others. Was a leader. Someone to look up to. To emulate.
Olivia was one of many who’d listened, rapt, when he’d taught undergrads at the Friday night Bible study on how to deal with having their faith challenged and values demeaned, or their beliefs mocked. He’d encouraged those young men and women to draw on God’s strength, His faithfulness, to help them adhere to the moral compass they’d been called to follow on a lifelong journey.
A scoffing laugh escaped his lips as he again stroked the roller against the wall. Ironic, wasn’t it, that not too many years later he veered off that very path. Way off. There was no doubt where he’d stand in Olivia’s eyes once she learned of his no longer squeaky-clean past. He couldn’t even redeem himself, make up for his poor judgment by doing “the right thing” as she’d no doubt see it.
“Rob? You in here?”
Grip tightening on the roller handle, he closed his eyes for a moment. Man, he hated to let her down. Hated for her to know who he really was.
“Yeah. Back here.”
In a flash, Olivia joined him in the kitchen, waving a handled carryout bag labeled Camilla’s Café. “I thought you might appreciate breakfast.”
Quite the turnabout from yesterday when she’d practically gotten in his face when he’d asked her to respect his managerial role. What was she up to? A cease-fire? He set the roller in the tray as his nose detected the mouthwatering scent of sausage and eggs. Hash browns. He could be bribed into a truce.
“Wow. Thanks. But you didn’t need to go to all this trouble.” The high-wattage smile she turned on him caught him off guard and, in spite of his suspicions, his frame of mind brightened. It wasn’t easy to resist her friendly appeal. Her down-to-earth genuineness. Sincerity. And yes, those big brown eyes that drew him in, made his mouth go dry every time she looked at him. Maybe under other circumstances…but, no, he didn’t intend to pursue a sure-fire rejection in the making. He’d already had enough of those to last him a lifetime.
“I was picking up something for myself, anyway.” She peeled out of her jacket to reveal a form-fitting red fleece top, the color setting her smooth skin aglow. She shook the bag in playful enticement. “You like breakfast burritos?”
“Is Phoenix hot in June?”
“I take that as a yes.” She grinned as she reached into the bag and pulled out a fat burrito wrapped in protective paper. Handed it to him.
He sat on a nearby chair, as eager as any kid, watching as she placed paper plates, miniature containers of pico de gallo and a handful of napkins on the table next to him. Passed him a bottle of orange juice. Then she lowered herself to the floor, cross-legged, and leaned back against one of the cabinets to enjoy her own breakfast.
“Have you given any more thought to those Singing Rock upgrades?” She unrolled a chubby tortilla and added a healthy dollop of pico to the scrambled egg, sausage, cheddar and crisp hash brown mix. Rerolled it and took a dainty bite.
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes, drifting off into a burrito-induced euphoric fog. Licked her lips.
He drew his lingering gaze away, endeavoring to focus on prepping his own breakfast banquet. “I’m still working on a plan. Mulling it over. Why? You have ideas?”
“As a matter of fact…” She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a piece of folded steno paper. “I do have a few.”
No point in ruffling her feathers. The least he could do after she’d gone to the trouble of filling his empty stomach was listen to what she had to say. “Let’s hear ’em.”
He bit into the burrito, the blend of ingredients melting in his mouth. Homemade tortilla. Fresh salsa. Good stuff.
“First off, forget the coffee shop.” She squinted one eye. “You said you weren’t seriously considering that, anyway, right?”
With a shrug, he took another bite. Man, was this ever good.
“We could stock gourmet coffees in each cabin. Let people brew their own.” She spread the paper on the floor in front of her. Took another bite of her burrito. Chewed. “And while I hate to do anything that would take away from the rustic atmosphere, I admit things look somewhat shabby. We could reupholster the furniture. Get new curtains. Linens. Give everything a fresh look. The cabins and the lodge.”
He nodded, but noted her repeated use of the word “we.”
“I have a graphic arts degree, so I know my way around some cool design software. Could help you revamp the brochure.”
Picking up the bottled orange juice, Rob unscrewed the top. “Go on. I’m listening.”
Dark eyes pinned him as she nibbled at the rolled tortilla. “I think we can come to a happy compromise, don’t you?”
He choked on the sip of juice. “Compromise?”
“You know, on this upgrade thing.”
“Sprucing things up is the tip of the iceberg of what your folks want me to look at, Olivia.” He set the bottle down. “Singing Rock needs an entirely new business plan. Marketing. Image. Aggressively drawing new clientele. People who are looking for something that, as it stands now, this place doesn’t offer.”
She scrunched her face into a nevertheless engaging expression. “I don’t think I like that word.”
“What word?”
“Aggressive. It sounds hostile. Hard-line. That’s not Canyon Springs. Not Singing Rock.”
What else could he say to help her “get it”? He could understand why she was averse to a property makeover. Most people loathed change that forced them from their comfort zones. No doubt Singing Rock was her comfort zone. Home.
He made a placating gesture with his free hand. “Why don’t you relax? Enjoy your vacation?”
“I’m not—” She clamped her lips shut. Shot him a guarded look.
He didn’t know which was worse—the days back in college when she’d gazed at him in starry-eyed adoration or now when she unflaggingly questioned his judgment. “Trust me. I’m not going to turn this place into Disney World. But I have been hired to do a job. A job your parents believe I’m qualified to do. A job I know I’m fully capable of coming through on.”
Why’d he keep harping on that? Was he trying to convince her—or himself?
Her brows rose in apparent surprise. “I’m not questioning your abilities, Rob. I’m merely concerned that the Singing Rock tradition may not be upheld.”
“And that’s where you come in?”
“We could be partners in this.” She offered a coy smile, one that elevated his heart rate a notch. “Work together.”
Partners.
Partners with a too-pretty female. Not a good idea. But if he let her think they were partners, wouldn’t it be easier to keep tabs on her? Let her believe she played a role rather than squaring off in opposing corners like they had after she’d made the special offer to the couple at Kit’s? As a partner, would she consult him before pulling another stunt like that—or think “partner” gave her the authority to do whatever she pleased?
His gaze lingered on her hopeful eyes. That much too appealing mouth. With a strength he wished he’d possessed years ago, he managed to focus again on his food. No, not partners. “I don’t believe—”
“Don’t think you can get rid of me so easily.” Her teasing intonations caressed his ears.
His gaze jerked to hers.
“What makes you think I’m trying to get rid of you?” He cracked a smile. “I could get used to special delivery burrito breakfasts.”
She stared at him a long moment, her smile faltering. Then she a
bruptly looked away, gathered her unfinished breakfast and stood. Disappointed eyes met his. A look he’d too often imagined the past few days. One he expected to see when she learned the truth about him.
“You don’t take me seriously at all, do you, Rob?”
“Of course I do.” He did, didn’t he?
“No, you don’t. You still think I’m one of your freshman groupies you can pat on the head and send on her way.”
Where’d she get that idea?
“I don’t think that at all, Olivia.” Is that how she thought he was acting? Because of his attempt to keep some distance between them? “In fact, as soon as my ideas are solidified, you’ll be the first to see them. How’s that?”
She retrieved the Camilla’s Café bag from the table, reached in and pulled out another burrito. Underhand-tossed it to him. He fumbled the catch, but managed to keep it from hitting the floor.
Avoiding his questioning gaze, she silently repacked her breakfast items into the bag, then looped it over her arm. Picked up her jacket. Somber eyes once again met his, the impact of her disenchantment sending his spirits plummeting even further.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. McGuire.” Her voice came softly. “I’ve grown up.”
Hadn’t noticed? Was she kidding?
Before he could respond in a way that wouldn’t add fuel to the fire, she disappeared out the front door just as his cell phone rang. Baffled at her response to his attempt at a joke, he set aside his half-eaten breakfast. Stood. Should he chase after her? Find out what she thought he’d done to so offend her? She didn’t think he’d noticed she’d grown up. Fat chance. How could any man not notice?
He started in the direction of the door, but the phone’s insistent ring persisted and he jerked it from the clip on his belt. Better take the call. Let her cool off. Give him time to figure out what happened. How to make amends.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Singing Rock. Rob McGuire, manager, speaking.”
“Don’t you sound businesslike.”
The familiar, lilting voice and accompanying giggle slammed into him with the force of a falling ponderosa.
His jaw tightened.
Cassie.
Chapter Seven
He hadn’t heard from her in over a year.
Struggling to picture a woman he hadn’t seen since Angie was six weeks old, he managed a steadying breath. “How’s it going, Cass?”
“Fabulous. And you?” The voice that once upon a time charmed him now fell flatly on his ears, the intonations of a stranger. A nervous-sounding stranger.
He reached for the bottled juice. “I’m good.”
“I got your message. That you’d left Vegas for Phoenix.”
“Now I’m in a little mountain town called Canyon—”
“No, no. Don’t tell me.” He detected an abrupt change in her tone. Panic. “If I don’t know, they can’t get it out of me.”
He tensed. Set the bottle down. “Who can’t get what out of you?”
“My dad and stepmom.” She paused as if having second thoughts about the wisdom of the call, then plunged ahead. “I don’t want to know where you are so I won’t let that slip, too.”
“Too?”
“I’m sorry, Rob. I didn’t mean to say anything. But they tracked me down in California. Flew out from New York.” Her words came quickly, tumbling in sharp succession. An avalanche. “We got into a big fight. So what’s new, right? In the screaming match, I let it slip. About her existence.”
A frigid wave surged through him. “And?”
“And I think they’ll try to find you. Both of you.”
He closed his eyes and drew in an uneven breath.
“It was an accident. I was so mad at them and they wouldn’t shut up and kept at me and at me. I—” Tears choked her voice. “I didn’t tell them your name. That’s good, right? But I’m sure it’s easy enough to find out. A matter of public record. I’m so sorry.”
Her sob came clearly across the miles.
“You should have seen the look in their eyes, Rob, when I said ‘baby.’ They wanted to kill me. But I know them. When they have time to think about it, get over their anger, ‘baby’ will morph into grandbaby in their minds. They’ll track you down. I know they will. You can’t let them have her, Rob.”
Her. She. Cassie never called her daughter by name.
“No chance of that.” He gazed down at his free hand, slowly opening and clenching. Opening and clenching. He had to call his mom. Warn her. Maybe bring Angie to Canyon Springs now, not wait until October when Paul and Rosa returned, when he’d be certain the job was his on a permanent basis.
“Do you remember how awful I said my life was with them after Mom died? How controlling they are? Manipulative. Nothing I ever did was right. I could never make them happy.”
“I remember.” Her parents had divorced when she was eight. Then her mom died when Cassie was barely into her teens and she’d been forced to live with her father and stepmother. She’d run away from home the first time at fifteen. Eluded them repeatedly until she was of legal age and they could no longer force her to return.
She sniffled. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I cried all night. Gus is beside himself. He’s never seen me like this.”
Gus?
A sob echoed again. Crocodile tears? No, that wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t judge. “Take it easy, Cass. Everything will be okay.”
It would be, wouldn’t it? Please, God.
“They’re used to getting whatever they want—them and those high-paid lawyers of theirs. But I swear I’ll come and get her myself if you even consider turning her over to them.”
“You know I won’t.” And God help the man or woman who tried to take Angie from him. “Trust me.”
Another sob.
“Cassie? Did you hear me? I said you can trust me.”
“I believe you.”
“Good. Now settle down or you’ll make yourself sick. You did the right thing in calling me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” He could hear someone speaking in the background. A man.
“Look, I have to go now, Rob.” Another sniffle. “Gus wants to go for a drive. Thinks it will take my mind off things.”
Knowing Cassie as he did, she’d be but a mile down the road before her tears dried and the phone call faded from memory. Back in the moment. On to the next adventure.
How had he ever found that appealing?
With a heavy heart, he shut off the phone. He had calls to make. His lawyer. His mom. But he stood frozen to the cabin floor.
God, forgive me for being such a fool.
He’d said that prayer every day for three years. He knew God forgave. Had compassion on flawed, weak—stupid—human beings. But with the advent of Angie, his lapse in judgment wasn’t something he could stuff in the closet, pretend didn’t happen. Angie had been so tiny when her mother had taken flight. No amount of persuasion, pleading or prayer had gotten to her. She’d rejected her own child. Him.
God, please forgive me for being such an idiot—for hoping she’d eventually come around to wanting a place in Angie’s life.
Deep inside he’d known the truth. She’d never pretended otherwise. But today’s conversation confirmed, despite years of appeals to Heaven, that nothing had changed.
There was a dude named Gus to keep her occupied now.
With Cassie sounding a warning about her folks’ intentions, she was free to move on with a clear conscience— without her daughter.
Close call. When he’d ignored her appeal to partner with him, she’d almost blurted out that she wasn’t on vacation, but had returned home to manage Singing Rock. He’d find that laughable
, wouldn’t he? An inexperienced girl thinking she could manage a place like Singing Rock. But she shouldn’t have said anything about his disregard of her, how he didn’t think she’d grown up. That likely confirmed to him her childishness. Her immaturity. Her “little sis” status.
Olivia stared out a window at the late-afternoon sunshine filtering through the trees. She wasn’t any threat to Rob’s position. Not really. She was fooling herself. Even Reyna had been gently skeptical. The entire family stood by Rob—discouraged her from getting involved with Singing Rock management. So what was the point in staying in Canyon Springs? Maybe on the long drive home she’d made up the whole thing about sensing God’s leading.
She sure didn’t sense it now.
It would be easy enough to pick up the phone. Get in on the overseas trip. She’d always dreamed of going there, hadn’t she?
Moreover, only days since the initial thrill of finding Rob McGuire right in the middle of her world, she had to admit that nothing would ever come of their renewed acquaintance. It wasn’t a divine encounter, after all, nothing more than a coincidence. Not the stuff of storybook endings.
At least she didn’t have to make a decision about what to do—whether to stay or leave—right this minute. That’s one thing she had learned through the years. Step back. Let the emotion of the moment die down. Find a quiet place to spend time with God. Let His peace rule your heart and decisions.
But isn’t that what she thought she’d done on the thousand-and-some-mile drive home?
The interior door between the lodge’s main room and the office opened and a breathless, dark-haired teenager all but tumbled into the room, her eager gaze pouncing on Olivia.
“Brandi!” Olivia jumped to her feet and pulled her beautiful sixteen-year-old niece into a bear hug.
“Mom told me you were back, Aunt Olivia, but I had to come and see for myself.” Brandi’s hug tightened. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Same here.” She held the teenager at arm’s length, marveling at how sophisticated she appeared. Makeup expertly applied, shoulder-length hair casually tousled. Nails polished to perfection. A figure that must keep her poor dad standing guard at the front door to beat the boys off with a baseball bat. Olivia sure hadn’t looked like that when she was sixteen.