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Behind Macy’s back, a curly-haired Don grinned at him like a kid who’d been let in on a big secret. He nodded knowingly toward the pretty blonde, signaling with a thumbs-up.
Jake frowned.
“Oh, don’t be grumpy.” Paris, having missed Don’s antics behind her, grasped his arm and tugged gently. “Introduce me properly so she doesn’t think I’m only another rabid fan.”
He needed to speak to Macy in private, not in a superficial social setting with Don clowning around in the background. But gazing into Paris’s hope-filled eyes, what other choice did he have?
* * *
The moment she stepped from the SUV, Macy spotted Jake with the stylishly dressed woman and her heart inexplicably lurched. No, he didn’t wear a ring, but her hasty conclusion that there was no one special in his life was obviously erroneous.
Now they approached her as a couple, the smiling woman’s arm linked with Jake’s. With the older councilman’s rambunctious grandkids hanging on to her own hands, she felt at a disadvantage as the stunning female closed the ground between them.
Jake appeared uncomfortable as well, although whether from remembering how their last encounter had ended in Kit’s parking lot yesterday or because he’d neglected to mention a lady in his life, she couldn’t be sure. While the omission irritated her, she couldn’t hold it against him since she hadn’t commented on her own relationship status. Besides, other topics had dominated their heated discussion.
Thankfully, Don’s wife stepped forward to pry the hands of her granddaughters from Macy’s, then herded the girls toward the church.
“Good morning, Macy.” Jake, looking more handsome today than yesterday, nodded a greeting. “I’d like you to meet Paris Perslow. Paris, this is Macy Colston, of Hometowns With Heart fame.”
The woman released Jake’s arm and reached out exquisitely manicured hands to grasp Macy’s. “I know you’ve probably heard this a million times, but your blog almost makes me feel as if I know you, Macy.”
This sophisticated-looking woman read her blog? That must annoy Jake to no end considering he’d voted against bringing its host here. Had he told her about their regrettable past relationship? If she had an awareness of shared history between her man and Macy, Paris’s serene expression didn’t reveal any telltale signs.
“It’s always wonderful to be welcomed like an old friend wherever I go.” Macy avoided Jake’s gaze, concerned his lady friend might pick up on it if she gave him a too-pointed stare. “That’s one of the joys of my blog.”
“I can’t believe you’re here in Canyon Springs. I’ve been reading your posts for years.” Paris smiled up at Jake. “Remember that rhubarb cobbler you couldn’t get enough of at the Labor Day picnic last year? It’s a recipe Macy shared from a quaint Ozark restaurant.”
Labor Day. So they’d been together for a while. Macy forced a smile. “I loved that place. It had the best barbecue I think I’ve ever tasted.”
“It was back in the trees along a creek, wasn’t it? A feisty black gal who’d once been a New York City chef ran it.”
Macy laughed. “You remember all that?”
“I’m a faithful reader.” Paris leaned in as if confiding in an old acquaintance. “Probably half the town is. Even more, I’m sure, once it was announced you were coming.”
“Ladies.” Jake tapped the face of his watch. “It’s nearing time for the worship service to start and I still have a handful of these.”
He lifted a stack of church bulletins.
Still smiling, Paris patted his arm. “Then why don’t you run on ahead and take care of business. We’ll join you later.”
From the mildly surprised look on his face, he wasn’t too keen on leaving them together. But with an indulgent nod of her head, Paris gave him a gentle shove and sent him on his way.
“Now you have to tell me,” she continued with a wink, “how things turned out for that Colorado couple last month. I felt there had to be more to the story....”
To Macy’s delight, Paris wasn’t the only one who greeted her with the warmth of a long-lost family member. At the potluck in the fellowship hall following the service—given in her honor, no less—numerous ladies invited her to share a meal, probably hoping one of their old family recipes would be featured in the blog. Some hugged her. One elderly lady—Mae Harding, was it?—kissed her cheek as she might do to her granddaughter.
Sharon Dixon, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, confirmed Macy’s work schedule at the general store on Main Street. As was her custom when visiting small communities, she often served in an unpaid capacity at local businesses, finding it gave her a better opportunity to get to know those who populated the town.
Others crowded in to introduce themselves and their families. Some handed her business cards—numerous campgrounds, cabin resorts and RV parks. An outdoorsy crowd, it seemed.
Macy smiled, listened and asked questions, mentally tabulating how she’d portray the flavor of the town in her blog. But her greatest “find” in the lunchtime crowd was when three sets of newlyweds eagerly shared their stories of recent Christmastime nuptials. Her Hometowns With Heart online friends loved it when she covered true-life romance.
Speaking of which...she’d lost track of Jake and Paris some time ago.
With councilmen Don and Larry and their spouses drifting to a dessert-laden table, she stepped away from the corner where they’d had her pinned and scanned the room. Oh. There she was at least, across the room chatting with the pastor’s wife. Macy knew she herself wasn’t any slouch when it came to mingling in social situations, but nevertheless envy stabbed as she watched Paris’s poised interaction. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d be a good match for Jake in his role as a public servant. Did his dreams still extend beyond his current council seat?
“Macy?”
The familiar masculine voice and light touch to her upper arm startled her. She turned, heart skittering expectantly.
“I’m sorry to tear you away from your fans,” Jake said, keeping his voice low, “but there’s someone I think you should meet.”
Jake helping her? After yesterday, she was surprised he was speaking to her at all.
“Or actually two someones,” he added, “you might want to feature in your blog.”
Detecting an unmistakable glimmer of amusement in his eyes, she folded her arms and gave him a suspicious glare.
His lips twitched, but he managed to suppress the smile. “Come and see.”
She glanced around, but since no one appeared to be waiting to speak with her—and Jake’s lady friend seemed otherwise occupied—she nodded, her curiosity piqued.
He led the way outside to the back of the property. Pine trees overshadowed a scattering of picnic tables and a concrete slab boasted a basketball hoop, neither of which seemed newsworthy. She slowed her pace. Had Jake lured her out here to give her another piece of his mind?
He disappeared around the side of the building as her sandaled feet picked a path across the thick carpet of still-damp, brown pine needles. But just when she’d convinced herself to go back inside, the sound of a horse nickering close by reached her ears.
A horse? At the church?
That’s all it took to send her around the corner in Jake’s wake. Yes, a horse. Two, in fact, saddled and tied to a hitching post. Bridles removed and draped over saddle horns, each horse had been secured with a lead rope fastened to its halter. One of them leaned his head into Jake, eager to have a sweet spot behind his ear scratched.
“People ride horses to church here?” Talk about the Wild West. She approached slowly, not wanting to spook the animals. They were beautiful, with intelligent, gentle brown eyes.
“The pastor’s brother, Trey Kenton, and Trey’s wife, Kara, do when the weather’s suitable. Meet Beamer and Taco.”
Kara and Trey. That would be the woman with the strawberry-blond ponytail and the soft-spoken cowboy with a slight limp. They were one of the December wedding couples. What an ideal addition to tomorrow’s blog this would make. A true taste of high country Arizona that would appeal to her readers. Perfect.
“I’ll get them from inside, along with my camera.” She spun away.
“Macy. Wait.”
At the sharp command, she halted and hesitantly turned toward him. “I want to see if they’ll come out and pose for me.”
“I’m sure they’d be happy to. But they aren’t going anywhere just yet. I saw Trey cutting himself a whopping big piece of cherry pie as we were leaving.” He cracked a smile. “So, pardon the expression, but hold your horses.”
Macy’s throat constricted. Despite the pun, she read something else in his now unsmiling blue eyes. Something she wasn’t in any mood to deal with right now.
“Look, Jake—”
Chapter Four
Nostrils flaring, the chestnut Taco suddenly lifted his head and emitted a powerfully shrill whinny that startled Macy into silence.
Having detected the preemptive strike intention in Macy’s tone, Jake laughed and gave his equine friend a grateful pat. Perfect timing. He had something he wanted to say and the challenge he sensed in her words would have put him on the defensive. “I think you’d better get over here, Mace, and give these guys some attention. I don’t remember you being afraid of horses.”
“I’m not.”
He sensed her indecision, though. Should she allow herself to be distracted or pick up where she’d left off? She again approached, probably more uneasy around him at the moment than she was the tethered horses.
Beamer stretched his neck toward her and she patted the top of his nose. He pushed forward to sniff her and she quickly stepped back to prevent him from getting anything on that pretty dress.
“Here. I snagged these off a veggie tray.” Jake fished in his jacket pocket and handed her a carrot stick. “Place it on the flat of your hand at the base of your fingers. Keep your fingers together and thumb tucked to the side. Then arch your hand downward and let him lip it off.”
“He won’t bite me?”
“Naw.” He pulled out another carrot stick and demonstrated with Taco. Beamer pushed in, looking for his fair share, and Jake nodded to Macy. “Go ahead. He’s ready for his.”
Gingerly, she held out her hand as Jake had instructed and immediately Beamer’s lips grazed her palm, searching for the treat. Finding it, he slipped it into his mouth and stepped back to crunch it. Loudly.
Macy laughed. “He didn’t waste any time.”
Jake handed her another carrot, but from her cautious glance in his direction she seemed to sense he was biding his time. And he was. After the passage of time, you’d think he’d have had anything he intended to say engraved in his memory, but having her here, right now, his mind drew a blank.
She toyed with the carrot in her hand. “You know, Jake, this is going to be a long four weeks for both of us if you intend to monitor my comings and goings each and every day.”
“I always go to church. Ask anybody.”
“Nevertheless, considering yesterday’s conversation, don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind to keep an eye on me.”
A corner of his mouth turned up in admission. He patted Taco’s neck, then again scratched behind the big animal’s ear. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“That’s what I thought.” Her voice held a note of resignation.
He kept his eyes trained on the horse now rummaging for another treat. “I want to apologize for yesterday, Macy.”
From the intake of her breath, that was the last thing she expected to hear come out of his mouth. Studying her thoughtfully, he gently pushed the horse’s head away. “We had ourselves a little standoff, didn’t we?”
Her words came softly. “I’m not the enemy, Jake.”
“I know that.”
“Well...” She drew another breath. “Yesterday it sure didn’t feel like you did.”
“I’m sorry.”
If the sudden crease on her smooth forehead was any indication, she wasn’t convinced of his sincerity. Maybe a contrite Jake wasn’t something she’d been accustomed to in the past?
“People all over the country love my blog.” She motioned to the building next to them. “As you saw, towns love my slant on their communities and welcome me wherever I go.”
Macy slipped another carrot into Beamer’s mouth. “You said you’ve read my posts and admitted they’re done well. Why can’t you trust me to fairly report my experiences here?”
He glanced at the ground, again avoiding her gaze. “I think we already touched on that.”
“I never meant to hurt you or your friend, Jake. You have to believe me.”
He met her steady gaze with a questioning one of his own. “That might get you off the hook, but will it make me feel any better about having trusted you with information shared in confidence? Information I knew only because someone trusted me?”
“You didn’t tell me it was confidential.”
His throat tightened. Did she have no idea how he’d felt about her back then? How close he’d come to asking her to become a permanent part of his life? “I shouldn’t have had to tell you. That’s the thing.”
She still didn’t get it.
“I was supposed to be a mind reader?”
“I shouldn’t have had to preface my every word to my girlfriend with ‘not for publication, please.’”
Her eyes widened slightly. “I’m...sorry you feel that way, Jake. I don’t know what else to say.”
Head bowed as if in defeat, she turned away.
“Macy—”
She didn’t look at him.
He kept his voice low, beseeching. “My point is—”
“I think you’ve made your point, Jake.” She raised her head and started toward the church. Then, her back still to him, she abruptly stopped. “Thanks for introducing me to Taco and Beamer.”
Shaking back her hair, she briskly rounded the corner of the building.
He could easily have caught up with her before she reached the door, but he didn’t follow. For someone who was degreed in dispute resolution, he sure was making a muddle of it with Macy. What he’d intended as a few words to smooth things over ended up in another quarrel that didn’t resolve anything.
Maybe he needed to face it. The problems between them would never be resolved. Not as long as he was who he was and she was who she was.
* * *
His girlfriend? Is that how Jake had thought of her back then?
Macy stared out the window of the Canyon Springs Historical Museum late Monday afternoon, lost in thought.
Jake had never introduced her as his girlfriend. Never told her he loved her. Never talked about their future except maybe in the vaguest of ways—just enough to feed her dream that she’d found Mr. Right. She’d known she was young, six or seven years his junior and still a student while he’d been out in the real world practicing law for several years. She’d been painfully aware that he might not consider her a permanent fixture in his life. Yet she’d talked herself into being content with the unspoken promises made in the way he’d kissed her....
Macy stepped away from the window, shoving the still-vivid memories of his gentle touch to the far corners of her mind. Things seemed promising at first. But as winter departed and graduation loomed on the horizon, he’d offered no words of hope.
That’s when she’d faced reality. Sure, she could at any time have said “put up or shut up.” She could have told him to either admit he had feelings for her or keep his kisses to himself. But she hadn’t. What woman wanted to whine and bully a man into making her his wife? Although it might have made an amusing story to tell the grandkids.
But had his failure to make a commitment played a part in her decision to run with a news story inspired by his foot-dragging friend? Had Jake’s ambiguous behavior provoked her into calling her mother, who had contacts on the company’s board and who could stir up an internal investigation?
Of course not. She’d been over this a million times. A story was a story and she’d objectively determined this was one that needed to be told. That was all there was to it. Right?
“If you don’t mind, Macy—” Sandi Bradshaw Harding, president of the historical society and one of the three local brides who’d taken marital vows last December, reentered the room. Dark blue eyes apologetic, she tucked a strand of blond, blunt-cut hair behind her ear. “I need to pick up my daughter from her gymnastics lesson. You can continue sorting the photos if you’d like. I shouldn’t be gone long.”
Sandi checked something off in a red spiral notebook that seemed to keep her—and everyone around her—organized. A high school English teacher, she’d met with Macy after class dismissed for the day to give her the grand tour of the museum. This time of year it was only open on Saturdays or for prearranged visits by school groups and other visitors. But the summer season would start soon, so there was much to be done to get things in order.
For the past hour, Macy had assisted in sorting old photos while Sandi filled her in on her courtship and history of the museum.
When Sandi departed, Macy took the opportunity to further inspect her surroundings, pausing at the photos of Sandi’s first husband, Corporal Keith Anderson Bradshaw, who’d died in active duty in the Middle East. Then she moved back to the main room to study the plethora of Canyon Springs mementos from the past, many of them lining the museum’s walls. Old photos. Advertisements from the earliest of the town’s businesses. Framed maps and newspaper clippings.
Cell phone in hand, she speed-dialed her part-time assistant in St. Louis.
“Ava, I’m so happy you’re back from vacation. I have a project for you.” She continued to stroll along the perimeters of the room as she pictured her widowed friend. A sharp dresser with an even sharper mind, the African-American woman and Macy were neighbors in a high-rise complex. It had been a moment of mutual good fortune when they’d taken the same elevator up to the twelfth floor three years ago. They’d immediately become fast friends, and Macy had depended on her ever since to do the necessary research to add historical flavor to the blog.
“I was hoping to hear from you.” Ava’s soft voice held the barest of St. Louis accents. “Things are slow around here.”
Macy doubted that. Ava Darrington probably hadn’t had a slow moment since she’d made her debut into the world seven decades ago. Then, following her husband’s death, the petite retired college history professor became addicted to genealogy to fill in empty hours and stayed more than busy tracking connections for friends and family.
“Then I’m in luck. I need background on historically prominent townspeople. You know, fun facts.”
“You’d mentioned you were heading to a mountain town in Arizona this month.”
“Right. I’m working part-time at the Canyon Springs historical museum, so I’m gathering a few names that look promising for further research.”
“Let’s hear ’em, sweetie.”
Macy leaned closer to a grainy photo of a rather tough-looking couple standing by a log cabin, which boasted a hand-written sign proclaiming it as a dry goods store. She read the fine print aloud. “‘Orian Bigelow and his wife, Harva.’” She spelled the names. “The photo’s caption says circa 1928 and that they were proprietors of the first store and place of lodging in what later became Canyon Springs. Their story might make interesting reading if you can find any details.”
“1928,” Ava mused aloud. “So they got their start right before the Great Depression. I’ll check it out.”
Another photo caught her eye, a group shot featured in a yellowed newspaper clipping. “These next three are scholarship donors to the local school district. Photo 1960. Francine Drew, high school principal. Brewster Mose, physician. Dexter Canton Smith—”
Ava let out a groan. “Oh, please, not another Smith.”
Macy laughed as she quickly scanned the article, remembering the hoops Ava had jumped through last year on another man with that last name. “Sorry, but from the sound of the clipping he appears to be a moneyed sort. Maybe he won’t be as hard to track as the other one.”
Ava sighed. “I’ll give it my best shot. Anyone else?”
Macy moved on to a few more photos, studying the captions for backgrounds that might prove interesting to her readers. “The cool thing about Arizona is that since it didn’t become a state until 1912, its early years look to be a fascinating blend of old time West and growing modernization.”
Macy’s gaze lingered longingly on other vintage photos displayed across the wall. Sometimes she wished her role was switched with Ava’s. That she’d have time to do the research and Ava would do the blogging.
“So is that it?” Ava sounded eager to get started.
“All for now, thank you. I really appreciate the historical tidbits you unearth.” The sound of heavy steps on the porch and the rattle of the door caught her attention. “Sorry, Ava. Gotta run. I think I have my first customer.”
She slid the slim phone into a skirt pocket and turned with a welcoming smile just as Jake Talford stepped into the room.
* * *
What was she doing here?
Jake halted, hand still on the doorknob as he took in Macy’s denim skirt, white crinkled blouse—and those strappy sandals. He didn’t overlook the frown aimed in his direction either.
With Grandma’s visit to Phoenix lingering well into spring, he didn’t want to interrupt her with questions about Granddad’s past. So it seemed logical to start finding answers in the same place where he intended to verify the research on the other old-time residents featured in Granddad’s book. The historical museum.
For a flashing moment he considered returning later, but he and Macy may as well get used to bumping into each other around town for the next month.
He released the doorknob and stepped farther into the room. Then he shut the door to block the coolish wind swirling in around him.
“Good afternoon, Macy.”
She lifted her chin, assessing him. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to shadow me.”
“We did?” He said that to get a rise out of her and was rewarded by a steely spark in her green eyes. “Actually, I saw a car outside and assumed the museum was open for business. How would I know you’d be here this afternoon?”
She folded her arms. “You could have picked up my schedule from the chamber of commerce.”
“I didn’t.” But he would.
“I won’t debate the validity of that denial.” Skepticism colored her tone. “But we need to come to an understanding.”
“We attempted that twice, didn’t we?” He managed a placating smile as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and strolled casually to look at a framed newspaper clipping on the wall. Then he turned to her. “I didn’t get a sense you intended to negotiate.”
“You didn’t want to negotiate, just lay ground rules. Your rules.”
“My town.” He shrugged and tucked his lips into a “too bad” expression.
“My blog.” Her smile mimicked his.
Then, in a dismissive movement, she seated herself at a nearby oak table covered with shallow stacks of old photographs. She picked one up and studied it intently as though he was no longer in the room. Recognizing another face-off in the making, he shifted gears. Thankfully, he hadn’t been a topic of conversation in her blog post this morning. Beamer and Taco had won out. But there was no point in pushing his luck.
He peeked into one of the side rooms. “Is Sandi around?”
He should have asked that question first instead of risking being overheard in personal conversation with Macy.
“We’re the only ones here, Jake.” As if reading his mind, an amused smile touched her lips. She placed the photograph in one of the stacks and reached for another. “She’ll be back shortly, after she picks up her daughter.”
Should he wait? He’d left work early in hopes the longtime historical society enthusiast could direct him to where Granddad might have gotten his manuscript’s facts. Had he done his research here or from the local newspaper’s archives or personal interviews? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his grandfather’s work, but the deeply ingrained legal watchdog in him wouldn’t allow Granddad’s name to appear on a book cover without verifying every single fact.