High Country Hearts

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.”