High Country Hearts. Glynna Kaye
Читать онлайн книгу.
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