that she thought he should drag the deputy back out here. But that was a waste of everyone’s time. Time he certainly didn’t have to spare.
She didn’t seem to be in any hurry with the photos, clicking away from different angles to ensure good snapshots of the vandalized walls. But it gave him a few minutes to step out of her way, to strategize. He didn’t know how much influence she had on her parents’ decision-making, but it probably wasn’t a smart move to alienate her. He’d been caught off guard when she’d reminded him of their college connection. Hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d told her he had no intention of joining her for a walk down memory lane.
He still couldn’t risk getting too friendly. But there had to be a satisfactory middle ground.
He shot her a covert glance. Dainty little thing, but the coltish figure he remembered from the church volleyball team had filled out and the carelessly cropped hair now tumbled down her back. The once-sharp planes of her face had softened. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her when she’d stepped out on the porch earlier that morning.
She’d grown up, that was for sure.
Which was exactly why he had to walk a fine line here. Couldn’t encourage her to hang around. But neither could he again deliver an ill-thought-out comment like the one he’d made earlier in hopes of keeping her at bay. A move he’d have to make up for.
“Olivia …”
“Hang on. I’m almost done.”
“Take your time.”
She lowered her phone and spun toward him as if surprised. Had she been dawdling just to irritate him?
He met her questioning gaze. “You’re right. It’s a good idea to take photos. And if you think your parents would call the county about this, I can do that.”
Confusion flitted through her eyes. “No, that’s all right. Like you said, there’s nothing for the deputy to see that he can’t analyze in a few good photos.”
“If you’re sure.” He ducked his head and again rubbed a hand along his neck, hoping she didn’t detect his relief. Now he could get to that painting without delay. He glanced back at her. “And I’m sorry about earlier this morning.”
She tilted her head in question.
“You know, when you mentioned catching up on our college days? I really didn’t mean to sound so—” He paused, fishing for an appropriate word.
“Rude?” she asked brightly.
His startled gaze bored into hers. “It was rude, wasn’t it?”
She scrunched her face. “Mmm. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a twelve since it was in front of my big sister.”
“Hey, I’m really sorry. I won’t make excuses, but please don’t take it personally. It’s just that—”
“Look, Rob.” Her eyes filled with a puzzling sympathy as she stepped forward to lay a reassuring hand on his arm. “You don’t need to worry that I’ll say anything to anyone about … well, you know.”
The muscles in his throat constricted. How did she—?
“It’s no one else’s business that Gretchen dumped you in front of God and everybody. It was a long time ago.” She cut him a mischievous look. “And besides, we’re all entitled to look like an idiot once in a while, right?”
Time stood still as he stared at her, trying to assimilate her words. Then he threw back his head and laughed. Gretchen. She thought his ill-at-ease behavior was about Gretchen. Thank You, God. Of course she wouldn’t know about anything that had transpired since their NAU days.
Wonderment lighting her face, she laughed, too, apparently relieved to see him taking her blunt comment so well.
After several more moments of unconstrained laughter, he wiped at an eye, chuckled and shook his head, getting himself under control. “Oh, man. An idiot, huh? Thank you, Olivia, for sharing that tender sentiment with me. It’s always good to know how old acquaintances feel about you.”
She gazed up at him, face aglow with the almost-worshipful expression he remembered from college.
It sunk his momentary relief like a rock.
Olivia’s heart did a loop-de-loop as she got an unexpected glimpse of the Rob of old—the flash of even white teeth and gray eyes dancing in merriment. It was the first unrestrained response she’d gotten out of him. And boy, was it worth the wait.
“I’ve had more than my share of public humiliations,” she assured, smiling up at him and marveling at the transformation. Maybe Paulette was right. His bad experience in Vegas had driven him inside himself. Put him on his guard.
Now she’d have to figure out a way to keep him from retreating again. She’d have to be fast. The light in his eyes had already dimmed.
“So where’s the paint, huh?” She looped her arm through his, feeling him flinch as her bare arm made contact with his rock-solid one.
“You want to paint?”
“Sure. What else do I have to do today?”
“Maybe see your family? Relax? That’s what vacations are for, right?”
She shrugged, not wanting to explain why she’d come back to Canyon Springs. He might not take it kindly that her plans included worming her way back into Singing Rock management. “There’s plenty of time to fulfill familial obligations.”
“Well, then—” He slipped out of her light grasp and stepped away, almost as if relieved to put some distance between them. “I have primer and paint back at the lodge. Rollers, brushes and drop cloths.”
Gazing happily at him, she winked. “So let’s get to it, Mr. McGuire.”
And knock off with the frowning.
“How’s it going up there in the Northland, Rob?” His mom’s words echoed through the cell phone as slivers of Wednesday morning’s dawn penetrated the thick stand of pines. Cloudless sky at the moment, but end-of-monsoon-season rains filled the forecast. “Is Canyon Springs everything Meg painted it to be?”
Settling himself on the lodge’s porch steps, he took a sip from his coffee, savoring the warmth on this chilly morning. Hard to believe overnight lows could be in the fifties this time of year. His little sister had made a big deal about the cool, more-than-a-mile-high-elevation summers in Canyon Springs. Sure beat baking under a desert sun.
“Haven’t really gotten out that much in the community, Mom. An errand here and there. But it’s beautiful country. And everyone seems friendly enough.”
Not too nosy.
He took another sip of coffee as his gaze took in the forest clearing—Paul and Rosa’s cabin, still dark at this early hour—and their youngest daughter’s silver coupe parked outside. While his sister sang the praises of small-town America, assuring him Canyon Springs was the cure for whatever ailed you, she’d failed to mention her husband’s attractive, vivacious cousin in that portrait of
