High Country Hearts

“You’re still having trouble dealing with what happened.”

No point in denying it.

“Try having a gun put to your head and see how you’d be doing.” He forced a chuckle, hoping to allay his mother’s concern. But he squeezed his eyes shut as the muscles in his stomach tightened and he broke out in a light sweat. Just as he did each time he relived the cold steel pressed against his temple—remembered what he’d come so close to losing. “But I like the job. I like what I’ve seen of the town. My employers are putting their faith in me and I intend to deliver.”

He heard a disturbance in the background at the other end of the line. A familiar, plaintive, high-pitched voice. Then his mother’s reassuring murmurs. Her laugh.

“There’s someone here who wants to talk to you, Rob.”

“Put her on.” His spirits rose in anticipation.

More commotion. The sound of the phone being dropped. Recovered. Then a heavy breathiness coming through the receiver, pulsing warmly across the miles.

“Is that you, Angie?” he teased, his heart warming. He lived for these phone calls. “What are you doing up so early, pumpkin?”

A giggle tickled his ears.

“Daddy!”

Chapter Four

No doubt about it, Rob was trying to avoid her.

When they’d finished painting at Bristlecone yesterday, he turned down her invitation for a jaunt to Camilla’s Café for lunch. Looking uncomfortable, he’d hustled off, claiming he had an important phone call to make. She hadn’t seen him the rest of the day. In fact, not until a short while ago when he settled himself on the steps of the lodge’s front porch.

Peeking from behind a lacy curtain at her folks’ house, she’d watched as he pulled out his cell phone and dived into a conversation as he savored his morning coffee. The chat appeared to start out light, then got serious. But by the time it wrapped up, he seemed in a good mood. Smiling. Laughing. Even with the window open, she couldn’t hear specific words from across the clearing. He kept his voice low. But she could hear his teasing tones. The laugh.

A business call? Not likely. Unless girlfriend business.

Which would explain a lot of things. Like why, although he apologized about his earlier brusque behavior, he still hadn’t encouraged anything but conversational superficialities. Certainly no “remember when” stuff. He’d remained pretty much Mr. Sobersides. Still seemed on edge even when they’d gotten that Gretchen issue out of the way. He’d laughed about that. Seemed to loosen up. Then shut down again.

Maybe his girlfriend was the jealous type, whose ire he didn’t want to raise by mentioning an old college acquaintance—a female one at that. A clingy, suspicious woman didn’t deserve a man like Rob. Two-timing wasn’t in his vocabulary. Squeaky-clean. Principled. High standards both for himself and others. If you couldn’t trust a guy like that, who could you trust? If his lady friend had reservations about the very foundation that made up Rob McGuire, she didn’t stand a chance of hanging on to him for long.

Which meant he might soon be in the market for a new one?

When he shut off his cell and reentered the lodge, Olivia dashed off to don a sweatshirt, then rushed across the clearing. Her timing coincided with him coming out again and heading to the Jeep. He certainly looked more than fine this morning in that blue chambray shirt, jeans and work boots.

She stopped not far from him, slipping her hands into her back pockets. “Hey, Rob.”

“You’re an early bird.” His low voice rumbled, as if not yet quite awake.

“Ready for Timberline, how about you?”

From the uncertainty flickering through his eyes, he’d obviously hoped he could slip off without being seen. “Plenty to do out there. But you know what would help me most?”

She shook her head. Whatever it was, she’d deliver.

“I could use a few things from town, if you wouldn’t mind running an errand for me.” He pulled out his wallet, peeled off half a dozen twenties and handed them to her along with a slip of paper containing his compact script.

Yep. He was trying to avoid her.

She flashed him a perky smile, not letting on that she knew this was busywork to get her out of his hair—an effort to appease his green-eyed girlfriend. The list did seem legitimate. Not too extensive. Items for cleaning and repair work.

“I think you can get everything at the discount house. Or Dix’s Woodland Warehouse may have some of it, too. I imagine both will be open even this early in the morning.”

She stuffed the bills into the front pocket of her jeans, then studied the list more closely. “No substitutes for the brands you have here?”

“Not if you can help it.”

“I’ll call if I can’t find your first choice. Let you decide from what’s available. What’s your cell number?” She hadn’t thought to get it off Paulette’s phone.

Without hesitation, he handed her a Singing Rock business card. Main phone number, address, website. His name and personal cell number.

“Thanks.” She tucked it in her back pocket. If he already had cards printed up, proclaiming him to be the property’s manager, it appeared he had a long-term stint in mind. Which could be problematic.

“From the list you gave Paulette earlier, it looked as if the damage was more extensive at Timberline than Bristlecone.”

“Considerably. Bristlecone was a paint job. But Timberline has a busted lock. Broken window. Totally trashed, like Pinyon. A least these incidents should be the last of it.”

“You mean if it’s those kids who’ll head home after the holiday weekend?”

“Right. Then maybe we’ll have peace and quiet around here.” Rob turned toward the Jeep.

“I’ll bring everything straight out to Timberline.”

“You don’t have to do that. Set everything inside the side door of the office. Give me a call and I’ll pick it up. I don’t want you spending your whole vacation on Singing Rock repairs.”

Or following him around?

Rob seemed under the impression she’d be here for Labor Day weekend, then on her way. Or was that wishful thinking on his part?

“It’s no trouble. Besides, I’d like to look at the damage.”

“May not be much to see by the time you return.” At least he politely refrained from pointing out that she’d turned down the opportunity to look it over when the deputy suggested it. “I made some headway on it yesterday afternoon. If I get the mess cleaned up, I can move on to the repairs faster.”

Not knowing he’d intended to jump ahead on the clean up without her yesterday, she’d run errands, stocked up on groceries and returned Paulette’s phone to her. Why hadn’t she thought to inspect Timberline first? What if her folks called? How could she report knowledgably on the situation, like a manager would do, if she couldn’t provide an eyewitness evaluation?

She glanced at the list again. “This shouldn’t take too long. Maybe you’ll still need help by the time I get back.”

He frowned—surprise, surprise—then nodded. “Suit yourself.”

Suit yourself. That seemed to be his standard, noncommittal response to her suggestions. Undoubtedly he’d get that cabin cleaned up and repaired in record time, ensuring little remained for her to assist with. But she was a power shopper, not given to lingering in the aisles like many ladies loved to do. She preferred to have a list in hand and get in and get out.

So they’d see who beat whom… .

Rob glanced at his watch again, then toward the center of the cabin’s main room piled high with debris he’d gathered from the wreckage. Why did things always take longer than you thought they would? Olivia would be back before he knew it.

As at Pinyon last week, malicious visitors had done their best to render the space uninhabitable. Fortunately, except for the lock and window, damage was relatively superficial, but time-consuming to clean up.