Or he’d drive clear to Albuquerque if that’s what it took to make the situation clear to her.
But why’d she have to smell so good? Fresh. Citrusy. Just as he remembered.
“So what’s on your mind, Jake?”
He remembered that, as well. Even at twenty-two she’d been direct. Confident. Not easily cowed. Not that he wanted to intimidate her now, just get her to understand—and agree—that breaking confidences shared by community residents was outside the boundaries of her invitation to feature Canyon Springs in her blog.
A quick glance in her direction confirmed that the initial signs of nervousness when he’d caught her off guard had vanished. Her countenance, even lovelier than it had been years ago, remained unruffled. Reminding himself not to get distracted, he tightened his hands on the steering wheel.
“I managed to keep out of it when your waitress related the story of her courtship. It might not be something her husband would want broadcast, but it’s nothing the town doesn’t already know.”
Macy shifted in her seat, but didn’t interrupt.
“And Reuben Falkner,” he continued as they passed by towering ponderosa pines dusted with snow, “he can be a cantankerous old guy, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s on his own. But when sweet, notoriously naive Chloe Bancroft started to shoot off her mouth about her equally sweet and notoriously naive stepmother, well—”
Macy gave a soft gasp.
“Are you suggesting I set her up to disclose private family matters to share in my blog?”
“You led her down a breadcrumb-strewn path,” he said, keeping his tone firm. “Skillfully, I might add. You haven’t lost your touch.”
Her lips tightened. “I never set you up, Jake.”
Still sticking to that lame story, was she?
“Ah, Macy...” He shook his head, unable to resist a bitter smile. “A song so sweet each time I hear it played—but nevertheless no more convincing today than it was years ago.”
She pressed her now ramrod-straight back against the leather seat and stared out the side window. “Then take me back to Kit’s Lodge, please. I have nothing more to say to you.”
“Good.” He nodded agreeably. “Then I can talk and you can listen.”
He turned the SUV onto the highway and pressed his foot on the accelerator. “I’ve been reading your blog since last November, ever since the city council and chamber of commerce first decided to storm the gates for inclusion.”
She continued to gaze out the window, refusing to acknowledge his comment, so he continued. “It’s well done. Entertaining. I can see why it’s become popular.”
Only the blast of the heater fan and the rhythmic squeak of windshield wipers slapping away the lightly falling snow filled the silence that followed his words.
“But...after reviewing years of archived posts, it became clear that the content, the tone, has changed over time. It’s become bolder. More provocative. Tackling issues at a deeper level. If that’s what it takes to drive more traffic to your site then that’s your business. However—”
She whipped toward him, fire in her eyes. “However what?”
How well he remembered that look. That spunk. He’d been drawn to it. Delighted in it. But he’d learned his lesson the hard way.
“This is my home.” He spoke with deliberate restraint, recognizing he’d started off all wrong. He’d riled her up too much and now she was ready for a fight. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He needed her cooperation, not opposition. “The people you’re trying to extract stories from are my friends and neighbors.”
“And?”
“They aren’t accustomed to dealing with the media. For the most part they’re open, transparent and trusting. They don’t realize the blog’s tasty morsels of thinly veiled gossip and tongue-in-cheek humor might hurt or embarrass them and their loved ones when it’s their own personal lives spotlighted on the web.”
“So, what are you?” She seasoned her words with an unconvincing sweetness of tone. “The town’s official media cop?”
“I’m an elected official.” He reached out to cut back the heat. It was sweltering in here now—or was that just him getting hot under the collar? “A city councilman. I represent these people.”
He deliberately didn’t mention this was also a critical time for his own future. Even though he’d only been on the council a year, he hoped to be appointed to the vice mayor position left vacant last week when Parker Benedict stepped down for health reasons. He stood a chance, but he knew it was a long shot. He didn’t need a past shared with Macy Colston interfering with his prospects.
To his annoyance, her sudden lilting laugh unexpectedly warmed his heart, leaving him aching to hear more.
“Well, hello, Mr. Councilman.” She tilted her head, eyes now dancing. “You yourself said the city council decided to bring me here. Remember? You chose to compete with hundreds and hundreds of other small towns.”
Caught off guard by her captivating smile, he studied her a long moment, their history momentarily forgotten. After all this time here she sat right next to him, every bit as alive and vibrant as he remembered. He had only to reach out and...
He drew a steadying breath, eyes again riveted on the road. “I voted against it.”
* * *
Of course he had.
Still reeling from the shock of finding Jake in Canyon Springs, Macy stared at his solemn, rugged profile and desperately wished the rest of the council had sided with him. She’d looked forward to this trip, to the opportunity it held for her blog, for her future. But now she wanted to be anywhere except sitting next to him, knowing he still didn’t understand her or her dreams. Her goals. He didn’t want to understand.
He still believed she’d deliberately used both him and his accountant friend who’d told him of questionable practices where his friend worked. Jake’s harsh accusations from when she’d run with the story still rang in her ears. Selfish ambition. Unworthy of trust. Betrayal.
She forced herself to maintain what she hoped was a pert smile, one that didn’t reveal the pain twisting in her heart. “Nevertheless, your town went all out to get me here with a convincing campaign.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I’m aware of that.”
“So are you suggesting I let them down? Pack up and move on to the next town on my schedule?”
No doubt that’s exactly what he’d like. She could see it clearly written all over him, from the top of his dark brown, sun-streaked hair to the tips of his well-oiled Western boots. Was it the same pair she teased him about the first day they’d met? She brushed the thought away, refusing to get sucked into memories of the past. She could see the resolve to be rid of her in the grim set of his mouth, the rigidity of his broad shoulders and the strong, steady hands clenching the steering wheel.
Half a
