A Future to Build On

All widower Luke Hunter wants is to raise his three kids—and be left alone. When Delaney Marks arrives in town to oversee the youth group’s house renovation project, Luke decides he must come out of hiding. He’s worried she’s too young to get the job done. He’ll have to keep a close watch on her—and on his heart. Because being with the vibrant girl makes it easy to forget their age difference and to start hoping for a future he doesn’t deserve. As tensions rise over project pressures, Delaney tries to make Luke see that some things are just out of his control—and that he is worthy of happiness…with her.

“She looks like a princess in a book, doesn’t she, Daddy?”

He glanced at Delaney, studying her, almost as if seeing her for the first time.

He abruptly looked away. “Yes, she does, Chloe.”

Luke shifted the child in his arms and she looped her own around his neck to settle in once more. Her eyes were growing heavier by the minute.

“Say good-night to Delaney.”

The girl waved. “Good night, Delaney.”

Luke nodded in Delaney’s direction, as well.

“Why don’t you lock up and I’ll see you to your car?”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. It’s not even completely dark yet.”

“It will be shortly. Chloe and I will see you there, then follow you to your place. Make sure you get inside safely.”

From the look in his eyes, there would be no point in debating the issue.

“Okay. Thanks.” She returned to the kitchen to secure the dead bolt at the back door. She suddenly felt like Chloe must feel when cradled in her father’s strong arms. Safe. Protected.

It was nice to know someone cared.

GLYNNA KAYE treasures memories of growing up in small Midwestern towns—and vacations spent with the Texan side of the family. She traces her love of storytelling to the times a houseful of great-aunts and great-uncles gathered with her grandma to share candid, heartwarming, poignant and often humorous tales of their youth and young adulthood. Glynna now lives in Arizona, where she enjoys gardening, photography and the great outdoors.

Rekindling the Widower’s Heart

Glynna Kaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways submit to Him and He will make your paths straight.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid;

do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God

will be with you wherever you go.

—Joshua 1:9

To my editor, Melissa Endlich.

Thank you for partnering with me

to share my stories with the readers of Love Inspired. This is truly a dream come true!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Not everyone is meant to be in your life forever, I guess.”

Taken aback by the unexpected, too-close-to-home observation, Luke Hunter placed a work-booted foot on the bottom step of the empty storefront’s covered concrete porch, doing his best not to frown at the attractive blonde perched on the railing.

“But that’s why,” she concluded with a dazzling smile that made his breath catch, “we need to make the most of every moment, don’t you think? Enjoy life to the full with a thankful heart. That’s what’s bringing me to Hunter Ridge—mountain country Arizona—for the summer.”

Until her red Ford Focus had pulled up in front of the rental property fifteen minutes late, a Beach Boys tune belting out of the stereo and her long, sun-streaked hair tumbling around her shoulders, he’d never before laid eyes on Delaney Marks. Although attempting to listen closely, he didn’t quite grasp the entirety of the convoluted tale of what brought her into his world that afternoon. But, as near as he could piece together, it had something to do with the departure of a boyfriend, an aunt in poor health, and following her heart.

“Then I hope—” he managed something he trusted was akin to a smile “—that this property is what you’re looking for.”

“Oh, it is.” She turned to gaze down the ponderosa pine-lined road that curved through the little town’s business district, then back at him. “I looked at it online before I made this appointment. It’s ideal.”

Why were all these artsy types continuing to flock here anyway? Why not Sedona? Jerome? Someplace where they’d fit in and wouldn’t annoy the locals.

Without a doubt, this young woman fit the stereotype, with denim-look leggings, an embroidered turquoise tunic and dainty leather sandals. Silver hoop earrings glinted when she tilted her head, and a bracelet shimmered around her ankle. Was there a finger on either hand not encircled with a ring?

Yesterday, the second day of June, Grandma Jo—Josephine Davis Hunter—told the extended family that a woman had called about renting a property along Hunter Ridge Road. No doubt another outsider determined to further change the character of their town.

Unfortunately, he’d drawn the short straw and had to deal with her today when he’d much rather be balancing the Hunter Enterprise books or—better yet—solidifying long overdue relocation plans. It was more than time he took his future into his own hands—despite what family members thought. Opportunity had knocked in the form of a potential job offer from two ex-army buddies in Kansas. He had only to wait for the door to swing open. Or give it a push.

“I assume, Ms. Marks,” he said, “that you want to take a look inside?”

“I’d love to.”

Her too-appealing mouth widened as she caught his eye with a startlingly flirtatious glance. An uncomfortable warmth crept up his neck. This wasn’t the first time she’d openly looked at him that way, as if fancying what she saw.

Yeah, right. Like he was buying that.

Who could blame him for suspecting her motives? He was at least a decade older than her own fresh-faced mid-twenties. A military vet. A widower for the past six years. The single father of three. Barely keeping it all together. Even though she couldn’t have known any of that when she breezed into town, he held no illusions that he came even close to what some pretty young babe was dreaming of.

But an hourglass figure and eyes sparkling with admiration wouldn’t gain her a hoped-for advantage in any rental contract negotiations. He had a houseful of hungry mouths to feed and every dime counted.

Her gaze still holding his, she hopped off the railing to stand before him, close enough that he could see the sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

“And please, call me Delaney.”

With a brisk nod, he unlocked the door of the two-story natural stone building. Nestled between a pottery shop and Hunter Ridge’s version of a deli, the first floor housed an open space ideal for commercial use, with a studio apartment above. He motioned for her to precede him inside and caught her fresh, citrusy fragrance as she glided by.

Midafternoon sunlight slanted in from the open door and unshuttered windows, filling the high-ceilinged, wooden-floored space with an inviting glow. A faint scent of cinnamon lingered in the air, no doubt the persuasive touch of his aunt Jessi.

Spreading her arms wide as if embracing the interior, Ms. Marks—Delaney—gave a soft cry of delight that echoed through the spacious room. “I knew I’d love it.”

“You understand, don’t you,” he said, feeling obligated to offer caution, “that leasing for three months rather than for an entire year means a higher monthly rental rate?” It was during the summer when Hunter Ridge—and the high elevation mountain country at large—made up for the economically slower months.

She shrugged. “No worries. I’m originally from Canyon Springs, so I totally get it.”

Canyon Springs? That wasn’t much over thirty minutes away, so why—

“I could hardly believe it,” she continued, “when I saw this place on the property rental website. I’d been afraid I’d get stuck in an ugly, generic apartment complex.”

“I don’t think Hunter Ridge has too many of those.”

She laughed and his heart beat faster at the sound of it, as refreshing as a cool drink of water on a hot day.

“No, probably not.” She looked happily around her. “Your town has done an admirable job of retaining its rustic character, its backcountry ambience.”

“We do our best to safeguard our heritage.” Unfortunately, not as well as they should have in recent years.

Delaney strolled across the space, empty except for a massive iron woodstove on the far side of the main room. Then she spun toward him. “I can’t believe this place hasn’t already been snatched up. Is there something you’re not telling me? Like the roof leaks or there’s no indoor plumbing?”

He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “A couple from Flagstaff signed a lease, but unforeseen circumstances dictated that they break their contract a few days ago.”

She closed her eyes momentarily and drew in a slow breath, almost as if communing with an unseen person. God? Then with a contented sigh she took a confident step toward him. “Meet your new tenant.”

Had he heard right? “You haven’t even seen all of it yet.”

She didn’t so much as slant him a sheepish look to indicate she recognized the impulsiveness of her decision. Clearly, she wasn’t a stranger to spur-of-the-moment leaps.

“There’s an apartment, too, right?”

“A studio in the loft.” He motioned upward to a low wall that concealed a portion of the raftered space above. “Full bath. Kitchenette. There’s a balcony overlooking a patio and toward the wooded properties farther up the ridge.”

“I guess I should take a peek, huh?”

“Please do.”

He couldn’t help but notice how gracefully she crossed the room to the rear of the building, her gently waving hair flowing down the back of her petite frame. Just beyond the staircase she paused to look in an open door. “A half bath, too? Perfect.”

“And a kitchen in the back.”

She hadn’t yet mentioned her intentions for the space, but Hunter Ridge would likely be welcoming another handmade candle shop or stained-glass studio for the summer season. Not exactly what the town needed. At least, however, the town council—one member of which he had the privilege of calling Mom—might sleep better at night with another source of income added to the roster.

He watched with more interest than he was willing to admit as Delaney poked her head into the kitchen, then peeped out the back door window before returning to the main room and heading up to the loft, her footsteps sounding lightly on the wooden stairs.

The next thing he knew, she peered down at him from over the low wall, dimples bracketing a wide smile. “Just as I thought. Love at first sight. Where do I sign?”

No haggling? No pointing out that he’d already laid claim to the previous person’s forfeited deposit so he could afford to cut her a sweeter deal? But in this economy, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Come on down, then, and we’ll do business.”

While few Hunter Ridge natives cared for the influx of newcomers, the bottom line could be a hard taskmaster. But the interlopers would pay well to snag a piece of this mountain country paradise. For that very reason, Delaney’s showstopping smile would serve to little advantage. While the engaging look she occasionally cast his way sparked an almost forgotten flicker of masculine satisfaction, he tamped it down. He had neither the time nor the energy for flirtatious females.

Been there, done that.

And, God help him, he was still paying the price.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Luke Hunter rose from behind a wooden desk to drop two keys into Delaney’s outstretched palm.

“Welcome to Hunter Ridge.”

“Thank you.” But despite his hospitable-sounding words, it was clear the sober-eyed Luke Hunter wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of renting the place to her. Not that he was hostile, exactly. Maybe resigned was a more accurate word.

In a town with too many empty storefronts, you’d think he’d have laid on a thick coat of persuasion to prevent her from marching down the street to the next available space. Instead, when they’d retreated to the offices of Hunter Enterprises, across the blacktop road and a few doors down from what was to be her new summer abode, he’d practically tried to talk her out of signing. But parking limitations, minuscule dimensions of the apartment, and precautions regarding the woodstove didn’t faze her in the least.

This summer was to be a chance not only to help the local church youth ministry while remaining conveniently close to her aunt in Canyon Springs, but an opportunity to find out if her artistic talents held any merit. Would her skills eventually rescue her from a lifetime with her nose pressed to a computer monitor?

“I can hardly wait to move in.” She stood, tucking the keys and paperwork into her oversize woven purse, a tingle of anticipation skimming up her spine. But whether that was solely rooted in God leading her to an ideal property for the summer or founded in the somewhat hesitant smile her handsome new landlord had just bestowed, she couldn’t be sure.

Probably a bit of both.

She rewarded his effort with a high-wattage smile of her own, but he frowned ever so slightly and abruptly stepped to a shelving unit to purposefully peruse its contents.

Was he shy? Unsociable? Or a man with more important things on his mind than the eagerness of a new tenant embarking on a summer adventure?

Nevertheless, she again couldn’t help but notice how he held himself with an almost military bearing, the overhead light that illuminated his neatly clipped, sandy brown hair also emphasizing the strong planes of his face. No, he didn’t appear to be a man who’d empathize with her bubbling enthusiasm, nor had she missed the flicker of censure in his eyes when she’d presented her photo ID. He’d clearly been unimpressed by the evidence of her recent California residency.

Finding what he was looking for, Luke pulled a navy blue folder from a shelf and handed it to her. “Hunter Ridge Chamber of Commerce” it proclaimed in raised lettering. The possible significance of his last name and that of the community hadn’t been lost on her.

“Although you can find this information online, I keep a few of these on hand.” He motioned to the folder as she flipped through its contents. “Since water, gas and electricity are included, you won’t need to make those arrangements. You mentioned, too, that opening a business isn’t your intent, so those sections won’t pertain to you, either.”

“The space will be my studio.” Loving the sound of that—so artistic and professional—she proudly held out both hands, palms downward, to display her rings. “I make jewelry and hope to sell it through the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative.”

The corners of Luke’s mouth dipped downward, but he made no comment. Instead, he briefly studied the varied ring designs, then gave a brisk nod. “Very nice.”

“Thanks.” She slowly drew back her hands, irritated with herself for hoping to hear something more along the lines of a few oohs and aahs. When had she become so insecure, constantly in need of reassurance regarding her craft?

A telltale muscle tightened in her throat. Since both Aunt Jen and Dwayne Moorley dismissed her artistic efforts as having no significance, that’s when.

She drew in a reviving breath. “I’ve been making jewelry for myself and friends since a high school art class introduced me to working with silver. But it’s time to see what the rest of the world thinks.”

“I wish you the best, then.”

Would it be too much to hope that friends and family members would feel the same? If she turned her back on the education her aunt had sacrificed to provide for a pretty much penniless, parentless niece, there would be few who wouldn’t think her a foolish and most ungrateful young woman. She no longer cared about Dwayne’s opinion, but would Aunt Jen ever forgive her?

With that sobering thought, she nevertheless managed a cheery farewell, and spun toward the door, away from Luke Hunter’s probing gaze.

“Oh!”

Tottering dangerously, her attempt at a poised exit faltered as the dog she’d tripped over leaped aside with a pitiful yelp.

Luke caught her by the upper arm with a steadying grip. “Are you okay?”

Warmth crept into her cheeks as she stared for a too-long moment into his intense blue eyes, her heart beating at an erratic clip. Then, with a self-conscious laugh, she slipped free of his grasp and stepped away, once again secure on her own two feet. “I’m fine, so you can relax. I’m not the suing type.”

He looked momentarily taken aback. Then glanced down at the German shepherd that had retreated behind his master. “It’s fortunate, then, that Rags isn’t, either.”

Shouldn’t that quip have been accompanied by a smile? But she didn’t spy so much as a trace of a grin on his face.

Nevertheless, she knelt down to call softly to the dog and, after only a moment’s hesitation, he trotted to her, tail wagging, to be petted. “Sorry, big guy.”

Amends made, she rose to her feet once more, only to be caught off-guard by an unexpected sadness in Luke’s eyes. She’d stepped on his dog, tossed out ill-received lawsuit humor and made peace with the pup. Surely none of those things had wounded his feelings.

But he didn’t look inclined to share his thoughts, so she bid him a hasty adieu and departed.

Once outside, she paused to catch her breath and take in the hodgepodge of older stone and frame buildings along the tree-lined road. Some snuggled against each other as if for mutual support, others were stand-alones with towering ponderosas pressing in close. A few, obviously vacant, stared almost forlornly at their more fortunate, occupied neighbors. But despite evidence to the contrary, Delaney sensed the promise of renewed life in the community.

A life she hoped to tap into this summer.

Her heart lightening, she angled across the road to her new home, then trotted up the steps. The summer held so much potential, a freedom she hadn’t experienced since college graduation. And who was to say she couldn’t arrange to bump into Luke Hunter more frequently than anticipated? After all, this was a small town.

And he did have amazing blue eyes.

No wedding ring, either.

She snatched up a flier tucked into the edge of the door, then inserted the key in the dead-bolt lock. If she could somehow banish that cheerless look she’d glimpsed and coax out a few smiles, the summer might be especially fun.

But she’d barely gripped the doorknob when a shadow emerged from the corner of her mind, halting her flight of fancy. With a sigh, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Would she never learn? As Aunt Jen often reminded, when something—or someone—looked too good to be true, it usually was.

* * *

Standing in the shadows, Luke held aside the office curtain and gazed toward the property Delaney Marks would be occupying for the next three months. She’d unlocked the door, briefly disappeared inside, and was now pulling a suitcase out of the backseat of her car.

“You’re not going to believe this, big guy,” he said to the dog seated at his feet. “She’s moving in already.”

Big guy. That’s what his wife had called Rags from the time he was a tiny puppy. Odd that Delaney called him that, too, though he wasn’t the largest of his breed.

Luke’s gaze lingered as the new tenant tucked a floral sleeping bag under her arm and dragged an oversize pink suitcase up the porch steps. Talk about an optimist. She was eager to stretch her wings. To reach for her dreams. To taste all life had to offer.

He’d been like that once. A long time ago.

But watching her now, bubbling with energy and excitement, made him feel...old.

With an almost cheerful announcement that she was currently unemployed due to a layoff, she nevertheless hadn’t flinched when writing a substantial check. And when he’d requested ID, she’d handed him a Golden State driver’s license that confirmed his suspicions—she’d be only twenty-seven come August. But her birthdate also served as a reminder that nineteen years ago when he’d left Hunter Ridge, thinking that at age eighteen he was rough and tough and all grown up, she’d barely reached the tender age of eight years old.

Practically a baby.

Yeah, she was a pretty, vivacious little thing and it had been a long time since a woman had caught his eye. But he was an old codger in comparison. A father of two teens and an eight-year-old, a man weighed down with responsibilities that a young woman would want no part of.

“She’s as close to my son’s age as she is to mine,” he said aloud with a shake of his head.

The dog bumped against his leg as if in sympathy, and Luke noticed Delaney had returned to the car to haul out a box from the passenger-side front seat.

“I should go over to help her unload, don’t you think?” he said to Rags. “That would be the neighborly thing to do.”

But before he could turn away from the window, a white minivan with a Christ’s Church of Hunter Ridge logo pulled up next to her car. One of Luke’s cousins—a younger bachelor cousin—hopped out of the driver’s side with a welcoming smile.

Garrett, who already had to beat women off with a stick.

“Just as well.” Luke tugged the curtain back into place. Despite the not-so-subtle signals that she wouldn’t be opposed to getting to know him better, he’d steer clear of Delaney Marks.

He drew in a heavy breath as a too-familiar weight settled in his chest. No cradle robbing for him.

Besides, what kind of woman would take to a man who’d as good as wished his wife dead?

Chapter Two

“Let’s get Luke over here and see if he can figure this out.” Pastor Garrett McCrae gave the microwave’s buttons one last pointless push. Then, with an it-beats-me shake of his head, he stepped back. “There’s a trick to it and he’ll likely know it.”

Delaney looked up from where she was seated on the ceramic-tiled floor beside an open cardboard box, searching for another mug and a wider variety of teas.

“I hate to bother him.” While she didn’t mind seeing Luke again—only thirty minutes after they’d parted—she didn’t want her new landlord to think she’d be a problem tenant.

“No biggie.” Garrett pulled out his cell phone and punched in a speed dial number. “That’s why God created cousins. For bothering.”

“You and Luke are cousins?”

He nodded as he held the phone to his ear. “His dad is my mom’s brother.”

Delaney mentally logged that enlightening bit of information as she studied him, looking for a family resemblance. Maybe in the eyes, though Garrett’s were more gray than blue and accented with laugh lines. His hair was darker as well. Older than her but younger than Luke, Garrett and his cousin hadn’t come from the same mold.

When the call was picked up on the other end, Garrett immediately launched in. “Hey, cuz. I’m helping our summer youth volunteer get moved in to Charlie and Emma’s old place and— What? Yeah, right. You let that slip by you?” Garrett chuckled. “You’ll appreciate that she’ll be keeping teens with too much time on their hands out of trouble. Anyway, the microwave downstairs isn’t working.”

Delaney watched as Garrett paused to listen intently, then he gave her a thumbs-up before pocketing his phone. “He’s on his way.”

Anticipation mingled with apprehension. “I hope he doesn’t think I’m going to be a nuisance.”

Garrett shrugged. “Being pestered is good for him. Gets him out of his comfort zone.”

Having moved back to the main room to wait for Luke, the door standing open to admit the scent of sun-warmed pine, they again marveled at their providential good fortune. Only last Sunday evening Garrett had been in contact with her aunt’s pastor in Canyon Springs—who happened to know of Delaney’s availability for a summer position.

“I can hardly believe the perfect timing,” Delaney concluded. “With Aunt Jen’s health in question, I needed an excuse to stick relatively close by this summer.”

“Believe me, we’re more than happy to have you here.”

“I’m glad. And thanks for helping me carry in my stuff.”

Garrett glanced at the suitcase, sleeping bag and boxes by the door. “This isn’t everything you have, is it?”

“It’s all I could cram in my car to bring over this afternoon. The apartment in Sacramento was furnished, so I’ll be borrowing furniture from my aunt and friends in Canyon Springs. I do have a few more boxes, clothes and my bicycle.”

“I’m sure folks here at the church will be happy to loan you whatever else you may need. As I’d mentioned earlier, with our youth intern forced to pull out at the last minute, you’ll be considered an answered prayer.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said the low, mellow voice of the pastor’s cousin, carrying from the open door. “Better plan on a few disgruntled looks when Delaney is introduced on Sunday rather than David.”

She turned to Luke with a laugh, trusting his comment was teasing, even though his tone didn’t reflect that. “I hope no one is too disappointed.”

He shrugged, unsmiling. “You never know.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t teasing.

“Disappointed?” Garrett shot his cousin an aggravated look. “Not a chance.”

“I’m giving her fair warning.” Luke leaned a broad shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “Last Sunday you were singing the praises of that college kid, claiming he’d be a big draw for the local teens with his background in biblical studies and enthusiasm for outdoor sports. You got the boys fired up that he was big into hiking and mountain biking.”

Luke cut an apologetic glance at Delaney as if to acknowledge it was no fault of hers that her only claim to fame was making jewelry. Then his eyes narrowed in speculation as he directed a pointed look at his cousin.

Garrett merely offered a serene smile. “God moves in mysterious ways.”

“Right.” Luke pushed away from the door. “Now let’s take a look at that microwave problem.”

He strode to the back of the building, Delaney almost scampering behind him, eager to explain why his afternoon had been interrupted.

“Pastor McCrae—I mean, Garrett—attempted to warm a mug of peppermint tea, but—”

“Peppermint tea?” With a glance in Garrett’s direction, Luke raised disbelieving brows.

The pastor only shrugged, his impish smile unapologetic.

“Anyway,” Delaney continued, wanting Luke to get the full story, “when he put the mug in the microwave and pressed the start button, nothing happened.”

“Zip,” Garrett confirmed. “I told Delaney there’s probably a trick to it. A secret knock or something.”

Luke took a slow breath, his tone dry. “There’s a trick to it all right.”

Garrett cast Delaney an I-told-you-so look.

Squatting in front of the wooden microwave cart, Luke reached underneath. Then he pulled out a length of electrical cord, waved the plug end at his cousin and poked it in the wall outlet.

“Well, what do you know?” Garrett laughed, not the least bit embarrassed.

But she was. Heat scorched her cheeks. Luke probably thought her a total airhead. Why hadn’t she taken a look herself before Garrett called him? “I’m sorry. It didn’t even dawn on me that it might not be plugged in.”

Luke looked down at her, a faint light of amusement in his eyes. “No problem. It’s my fault. I forgot Uncle Mac would have unplugged everything when the tenant vacated last fall. A safety precaution. Usually new renters don’t move in fifteen minutes after they sign the lease, so there’d normally be time to get everything hooked up and the refrigerator cooling.”

He ran his hand roughly through his hair in an almost weary gesture—again confirming he had more important things on his mind. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll plug in the rest of the appliances down here and in the loft.”

Garrett playfully punched him in the shoulder. “This is something you couldn’t have told me over the phone, cuz?”

Luke drew back. “Are you kidding? And miss an opportunity to publicly demonstrate the shortcomings of our good pastor?”

“He lives for that,” Garrett acknowledged with a smile in Delaney’s direction. “But all’s well that ends well, right?”

Luke moved past her to the refrigerator, his height seeming even more imposing in the confined space.

“Hey, while you’re in a Boy Scout frame of mind...” Garrett stepped in to assist in pulling the large appliance away from the wall. “Delaney has furniture and more boxes to bring over from Canyon Springs. Do you think you and that big pickup of yours could help her out?”

Luke glanced up from where he’d plugged in the fridge, then slowly rose to his feet. “Now?”

“No, not now,” Delaney quickly inserted, catching the reluctance in his tone. “Besides, I can always recruit someone from Canyon Springs.”

Garrett helped push the now-humming refrigerator back into place. “Luke can do it. When would work best for you, Delaney?”

“Today’s Thursday. So tomorrow, maybe? Or Saturday? Before Sunday evening, if possible.” But she wasn’t convinced that her new landlord was buying into the volunteer gig. “The youth group can always sit on the floor, but it will be more relaxing with a few comfy chairs and a sofa. I’d rather not resort to folding chairs. They’re too stiff and formal.”

Kids didn’t much care for being rowed up or in a too-rigid circle. As she remembered from her own youth group days and as a high school youth leader when in college, a casual setting would be more conducive to building relationships and drawing out participation.

Garrett’s eyes brightened. “Awesome idea. This place is perfect.”

“You want the kids to meet here?” Luke’s disapproval of her plan was clearly evident. “What’s wrong with the fellowship hall where they usually meet?”

Garrett gave his cousin an incredulous look. “The remodel, remember? It starts Monday and the place will be torn up for weeks. This is much better than resorting to a Sunday school classroom.”

“But—”

Garrett turned to Delaney, cutting Luke off. “I don’t have any objections. This place is spacious and centrally located. The kids will love it. I’ll get the word out.”

Luke pinned Garrett with a doubtful look. “Don’t you think you should run it by the church board first?”

“Mmm...” Garrett narrowed his eyes as if in deep thought, then shook his head. “No.”

An unsmiling Luke wagged a finger at him. “One of these days, buddy, you’re going to overstep your bounds as an interim pastor and find yourself shown the door.”

Interim pastor? He wasn’t the real deal? Had he overstepped his bounds by bringing her on board two days ago?

Unfazed, Garrett grinned as he pulled out his cell phone and read an incoming text message. “You’d be leading the lynch mob, I assume?”

“Guarantee it.”

Garrett held up his phone. “Hey, looks like I’m late for a meeting. I’ll leave you two here to work out details for the move. Think you can handle that, Luke, without causing too much trauma to your schedule?”

* * *

“I can handle it.” Luke gave Garrett a steady look as he walked him to the door, Delaney trailing along behind.

The pup was getting way too big for his britches these days and, as usual, he was doing his best to push his older cousin’s buttons. To Luke’s irritation, Garrett maintained, as did the rest of the extended family, that he spent too much time working at Hunter Ridge Enterprises. And seeing to the never-ending needs of his kids.

Like it was any of their business. Little did they know that if all went well, he’d soon be out from under their scrutiny.

But why was Garrett fobbing off the youth volunteer on him? The way he was all smiles and bending over backwards to accommodate her this afternoon—peppermint tea?—it appeared he intended to keep her to himself. Then again, maybe the interim pastor of Christ’s Church didn’t see him as competition for the much younger lady’s attention. It reminded him of a situation when, as a kid, Garrett had left a favored toy in the protective custody of their aged grandpa.

With a wave of his hand, Garrett headed out the door. “I’ll take a rain check on that tea, Delaney. But stop by my office tomorrow morning and we’ll get the paperwork completed.”

As soon as he’d departed, she spun toward Luke, her expression uncertain. “Please don’t feel obligated to help me move because your cousin is...pushy.”

She thought Garrett was pushy? Perceptive. “I don’t mind. It’s just—”

“That you’re a big boy and prefer making your own decisions?” Mischief lit her eyes and, in response, he felt the tug of his own somewhat rusty smile.

“I’ve done that for quite a few years.”

For ten more than she had.

“It’s bad enough that you had to come over here to plug in a microwave.” For a moment she covered her face with her hands, her expressive eyes peeping at him from between ringed fingers. “How embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Like I said, it’s my fault. And if I hadn’t wanted to rib Garrett in person, I could have enlightened him over the phone.” But if he’d told him over the phone, he wouldn’t be standing here right now talking to their pretty new tenant. Had that possibility played a part in his decision to see to the microwave in person?

Naw. He’d wanted only to give his cousin a hard time. He’d take care of business here and be on his way. Chloe, his youngest, would be arriving any time now and expect him to be at the office after school on a Thursday afternoon.

He gave Delaney a reassuring nod. “I’ll take care of the appliances upstairs and make sure things are in order with the hot water heater and the furnace. It gets chilly around here some nights.”

“I’ve always loved that about Arizona mountain country.” She opened her arms wide as if to encompass the world around her, a spontaneous gesture he’d observed earlier when she’d claimed the rental property as her own. “You regulate how cool you want to be by how wide you open a window.”

“You said you were originally from Canyon Springs?”

She shrugged. “I moved there when I was fourteen.”

Something flickered through her eyes and he sensed a story untold. But he wouldn’t press her for details. The less he knew about their new tenant’s personal life, the better off he’d be. Although...if she’d be hanging out with Anna and Travis and the youth group this summer, it might be worthwhile to get to know her better. A parent had to be proactive these days when it came to who you allowed to influence your kids. Delaney was awfully young to be taking on responsibility for the group.

He cleared his throat. “So, how would tomorrow afternoon work for you to retrieve the rest of your belongings?”

She tilted her head. “You’re sure?”

“I’m good with it. After lunch? I could pick you up at one o’clock.” If Garrett couldn’t tag along to help with the sofa, he’d get one of his friends in the neighboring town to assist, then recruit another family member back here to unload.

“I’ll be ready. And thanks.”

“No problem. But I guess I’d better finish up and get on out of here so you can get settled in.” He turned away, intending to head to the loft, then tensed as he glimpsed a colorful flier atop Delaney’s luggage by the door. He motioned toward it. “Where’d you get that?”

“What?” She turned to see what he was referring to. “Oh. I found that tucked in my door. Haven’t even looked at it yet.”

She picked it up. Flipped it over. “It looks as if someone plans to run for town council. There’s a preliminary campaign gathering Monday night.”

Someone intended to run for an opening on the town council all right. Sunshine Carston. An outspoken young woman who settled in town a couple of years ago and rallied a growing number of local artists to take a more active role in the community. She’d been a thorn in the side of quite a few longtime Hunter Ridge residents.

He slipped the flier from Delaney’s fingers and glanced down at the photograph of the woman who would be his mother’s probable opponent this coming fall. An attractive, eloquent young woman but, oh, what a pain in the neck at times.

“One word of advice, Delaney.”

The blonde stared up at him with a slight frown. “And what would that be?”

“If you want the kind of summer you’re hoping for, steer clear of local politics.”

A dimple surfaced in her smooth cheek, the frown evaporating. “That bad, huh?”

“Could be.” He returned the flier and she folded it in half before tossing it back to the top of the suitcase.

“I assure you that while I do my civic duty at the polls, I’ve never been interested much in politics. However...” She flashed him a smile that forced his heart rate up a notch. “Should you decide to run against Miss Sunshine there, I might consider joining your team.”

Warmth heated the back of his neck. Was she only teasing? Flirting again? He was so out of practice with that sort of stuff. Local ladies had long ago given up the chase, which suited him fine. He had no intention of sticking around Hunter Ridge much longer anyway.

He took a step back. “Thanks for the vote of support, but no politicking for me.”

She didn’t look surprised at his statement, only amused. With effort, he drew his gaze from hers.

“Guess I’ll get things checked out here and be on my way.”

But he’d barely started up the stairs to the loft when a dog barked from the open door behind him and a much-loved voice called out.

“We found you, Daddy!”

With a grin, he reached the bottom of the staircase before eight-year-old Chloe, raced forward to launch herself into his arms for a welcoming hug. He laughed as he scooped up the dark-haired girl and she planted a kiss on his cheek. It was the highlight of his day. “You’ve missed me?”

“Uh-huh. This much.” With a giggle he never tired of hearing, her arms tightened around his neck and she gave him another kiss.

That’s when he caught sight of Delaney standing off to the side, an uncertain look coloring her expression.

“Delaney? I want you to meet my daughter, Chloe.” He didn’t try to keep the pride out of his voice. “Chloe, this is Delaney Marks. She’s going to be living in here this summer.”

“Good to meet you, Chloe.” Delaney reached out her hand and his little girl shyly shook it.

Then, a frown puckering her forehead, Chloe looked around the open space. “Why don’t you have furniture?”

Delaney laughed, catching his eye. “I’ll have furniture just as soon as your dad helps me move it in.”

Chloe looked at him solemnly. “You’d better get busy, Daddy.”

“I guess so. And I guess we’d better get going as soon as I check a few things out upstairs.” He lowered his daughter to the floor and set her on her feet. “Homework tonight?”

She shook her head, not meeting his gaze.

Likely story. “Homework tonight?”

She started to shake her head again, then giggled and nodded, reaching out to clasp his hand in both of hers as she looked up at him mischievously.

“You don’t need to check the appliances upstairs,” Delaney said, drawing his attention again. “Despite recent evidence to the contrary, I’m perfectly capable of poking plugs into outlets.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “So you say.”

“If I run into any unforeseen difficulties, I know where to find you, right?”

Her words sounded flirtatious enough, but had the interest he thought he’d recognized earlier diminished somewhat since the arrival of his child?

“That you do,” he confirmed, irritated that he longed to ignite the spark in her gaze once again.

“Well, then?” She made a sweeping motion toward the door. “Be on your way.”

Yes, on his way. And the farther he stayed from Delaney Marks the better.

Chapter Three

Daddy. The next morning when she crawled out of her sleeping bag in the loft, Delaney was still chiding herself for being surprised her new landlord was a parent. Luke was older than her and an attractive, seemingly nice man. It wouldn’t be unexpected for him to have been in a serious relationship. To have a kid.

But the no ring thing had thrown her off.

Was he a widower? Divorced? Either could account for the apparent sadness she’d glimpsed earlier in his eyes—a look that evaporated with the arrival of Chloe.

Even now, chatting on the phone with her closest friend early Sunday evening while awaiting the arrival of the youth group, Delaney couldn’t stop thinking about Luke Hunter. About how he’d scooped the squealing child into his arms with a smile that transformed his already handsome features. Brought him to life.

“Actually, I’m not too swamped with wedding preparations to keep me from popping over to see your new place.” Paris Perslow’s voice carried over the phone with a surprisingly carefree lilt for someone who was only weeks away from her wedding day. Most brides were a bundle of nerves at this point. “Like I said, we’re keeping things simple, which is why you’re my only attendant this time. Too bad Cody’s best man is married.”

“Believe me, that’s for the best.” Delaney’s relationship with coworker Dwayne Moorley, like her job in Sacramento, had expired only weeks ago. This morning when drying her hair, she’d firmly reminded herself that although the outcome of their time spent together the past two years was disappointing, another unforeseen loss in her life, she wouldn’t look back. In retrospect, she’d stayed in the relationship much too long, for reasons she was only now coming to fully understand.

“You’re well rid of that guy,” Paris continued as if reading her thoughts, ever loyal since a grieving Delaney, several years her junior, had arrived in Canyon Springs all those years ago. “He’s way too controlling, thinking it’s up to him to not only run his life, but yours, too. I’m beyond relieved you’ll be my maid of honor without him showing up in my wedding photos.”

“I, too, am delighted to save you from that blot on your special day.” Delaney restlessly rose from the borrowed sofa to peep out a street-facing window where the sun cast lengthening shadows across the road. Movement caught her eye and hope sparked as she angled for a closer look. Was that activity in front of the Hunter Enterprises office? Yes. But, unfortunately, no one she knew. Only a handful of people who’d paused outside to visit.

She hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of Luke since he’d left with his daughter on Thursday. At their agreed-upon time Friday afternoon, two young men identifying themselves as cousins of Luke arrived with a pickup truck, offering an apology on his behalf.

How silly to be disappointed at the substitution. She was too old for crushes. Besides, even if Luke was a free agent, so to speak, an eight-year-old came with the package. So it was just as well.

“You are getting your jewelry into the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Co-op, aren’t you?”

Paris’s words drew her back to the present. “It’s not a sure thing. I have an appointment on Monday to present samples of my work. So say a prayer that they’ll like what they see.”

“They will. I absolutely love the earrings you made for me.”

“I know Hunter Ridge’s art community is small, not anything like Sedona, Jerome or Santa Fe, but if I can get my foot in the door here, it’ll be a start. Hopefully, one that will encourage Aunt Jen to see my artistic leanings in a more positive light.”

“I saw her at church this morning.” Paris’s words came cautiously. “I don’t think she looks well.”

“I don’t think she does, either. But she insists she’s fine and is mad at me for taking the church position so I can stick around in case she needs me. She says the longer I’m unemployed, the more unemployable I’ll become.”

Which might well be true. But when her parents, widowed grandmother and younger sister had been killed in a car accident, her childless aunt and uncle had opened their home to her. Not too many years later, Uncle Del died in a boating accident, so how could she not be there for her aunt now?

“Well, I think you’ve made the right decision, Delaney. She’s obviously not her usual self.”

When the conversation ended with a reiteration of Paris’s promise to visit soon, Delaney pocketed her cell phone and returned to the seating area. She had things remaining to be unpacked, but the open space now held a welcoming touch with soft lamplight and fat flickering candles rowed up on top of the woodstove. She’d arranged comfy, oversize throw pillows around the area for additional seating and, keeping the teenagers in mind, subs, chips and veggie sticks were on the coffee table.

Her introduction at the church service had gone well. Or at least she assumed so since no one had booed or thrown rotten eggs as Luke had led her to anticipate. But he and his daughter were nowhere to be seen that morning.

She straightened a stack of napkins, then stepped back to look around the room. She already loved this place, the openness of it and the way the sun shone through a fixed window at the front, above the porch. How the ponderosa pine branches cast moving shadows across the polished wooden floor.

Would the kids enjoy coming here?

And how would they respond to the annual summer project she’d chosen for them? With the help of Lois Grant, the women’s ministry leader at the church, and a thumbs-up from Pastor McCrae, she’d quickly committed to an undertaking that was already near and dear to her heart. One that without a doubt had God’s seal of approval, too.

“Delaney?”

With a sense of anticipation, she turned as the pastor of Christ’s Church and a handful of teens stepped through the door. Introductions were quickly made. Brothers Kendrick and Nelson Bennett, both redheaded and freckle-faced, towered over her though they were probably not much older than sixteen. Curly-haired Sybil, her eyes rimmed in black as dark as her obviously colored tresses, wandered the room with interest, and “Scottie” Scott, a petite brunette with a pixie haircut, immediately made herself at home as well.

But Anna—a ponytailed, tomboyish-looking blonde dressed in well-worn Levi’s, a striped knit top and Western boots—hung slightly back. Unlike the other teenage girls, her face was devoid of makeup but, nevertheless, a natural prettiness was clearly evident. Hunter, she’d said her last name was. Could half the town be somehow related?

Fifteen minutes later, when the group grew to a dozen teenagers chatting and meaningfully eyeing the food, Garrett clapped his hands to draw their attention.

“Let’s give God thanks and dig in.”

A murmur of agreement rippled among the young people and, following Garrett’s prayer, they loaded their plates.

That’s when she saw them in the doorway.

Without a doubt they were father and son, although the younger’s darker hair, parted in the middle, lay in unruly layers down to his shoulders. As tall as his father standing beside him, the lankier, sullen-eyed teen brushed by the older man to saunter over to the seating area where he plopped down on the couch beside Scottie. Bare legs outstretched from his baggy, below-the-knee shorts and feet encased in leather sandals, he cast his father a you-can-leave-any-time-now stare. Then he deliberately slid his arm around the girl next to him and pulled her close.

Scottie giggled.

“Delaney.” Luke leveled a meaningful look on the boy, who she guessed to be sixteen or seventeen. “I’d like you to meet my son, Travis.”

The teen gave her a cursory nod of acknowledgment before reaching for a sandwich.

Luke frowned, then motioned to the pretty tomboy glaring at Travis. “I assume you’ve already met my daughter, Anna.”

Delaney steadied herself with her hand to the back of a chair. Luke had three kids, not one? And two of them were teenagers?

The girl who’d earlier identified herself as a Hunter gave Delaney a reassuring smile, almost as if determined to make up for her older brother’s dearth of manners. Delaney didn’t see much resemblance between father and daughter. She must take after her mom.

Garrett made a sweeping motion toward the coffee table. “Help yourself to a sandwich, Luke. Delaney’s put out quite a spread here.”

Luke’s querying gaze met hers as if seeking permission—and maybe forgiveness for his son’s behavior?

She nodded encouragingly. “There’s more than enough.”

“Thanks.” A barely-there smile surfaced, causing Delaney’s heartbeat to skip. He looked especially attractive tonight in jeans and a blue T-shirt that not only matched his eyes but emphasized an unquestionably athletic frame. Thank goodness he’d eat and be on his way so she could keep her mind on the youth group business at hand.

Luke filled his plate, then settled on the floor between Nelson and Kendrick. But even after everyone had devoured most of the food, and Garrett’s short devotion set the tone for an evening of Bible study, discussion and board games, Luke didn’t seem in any hurry to depart.

To Delaney’s surprise—and irritation—he didn’t.

* * *

His son had outdone himself. He hadn’t wanted to come, but Luke had insisted. Understandably, Travis was disappointed that the male college student slated for the summer had pulled out at the last minute. But there was no excuse for what he was doing tonight.

Delaney had graciously overlooked his behavior. But he could tell by her earlier almost nervous glances around the group as she’d tried unsuccessfully to encourage the sharing of personal experiences and spiritual challenges that his son’s conduct had in many ways set the tone for the evening. He was a popular kid, one who the others looked up to. Despite the buoyant enthusiasm Delaney brought to the mix, if Travis decided youth group was no longer cool, well, it wasn’t going to be cool to anybody else, either.

Then again, maybe Delaney wasn’t a good fit. He glanced across the room where she’d returned from the kitchen with another supply of snacks. With Garrett called away, she was trying to get the attention of the now-laughing, chatting gathering of young folks setting up board games and paying her little attention.

A jolt of sympathy—and irritation—shot through him.

While Travis played a role in the evening’s debacle, this was his cousin’s fault. Garrett had allowed Delaney’s bright smile and pretty face to sway his decision-making in selecting a replacement for the college intern. She was young and inexperienced and it was apparent that the kids, following Travis’s lead, didn’t view her as an adult leader.

But whoever’s fault it was, he’d had enough of this.

His piercing whistle sliced through the high-ceilinged room, startling the kids into silence. They turned as one, eyes rounded, to his uncompromising glare. Then he gave a brisk nod toward the equally wide-eyed woman who was all but staring at him openmouthed, a flash of fire lighting her eyes.

She was mad at him?

“I think,” he said, dismissing her reaction as he carefully looked at each young person present, “that Ms. Marks has something to say to you.”

Cowed—except for Travis who cast him a disgruntled look—they all looked at her.

Standing before them, almost as if in front of a firing squad, she made an apologetic motion, the rings on her fingers catching the light.

“I... I won’t interrupt your games long. I want to tell you a bit about the annual project the youth group will be doing this summer.” A tentative smile touched her lips as she looked hopefully from face to face for signs of interest. But she avoided his gaze. “High Country Hope Ministries has the opportunity to move one of their disadvantaged families into larger accommodations, enabling a family that’s been forced apart this past year to be reunited in a single dwelling.”

“Cool,” one boy chimed in, then popped a potato chip into his mouth.

“Yes, it is cool.” Delaney’s eyes now danced with excitement, the uncertainty replaced with an attractive glow. “And it’s even cooler because we can help make that happen. The new property needs sprucing up—cleaning, interior painting, yard work and minor repairs.”

Travis groaned and his girlfriend, Scottie, elbowed him.

Luke would be having a long talk with his son as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“Their lease on the current property ends August thirty-first,” Delaney continued, ignoring Travis, “but if we can help them make that move to the new place before the first of August, their current landlord—who has other plans for the property—will see that not only is Hope Ministries’ deposit and August rent refunded, but they’ll receive a bonus for vacating a month early.”

“What will they do with the extra money?” Leave it to Anna, his resident penny-pincher, to ask that kind of question.

“The refunded rent will go toward paying winter heating bills for the family and others. And the bonus...” Delaney looked around the circle of faces. “Will go to your youth group.”

Kendrick sat up, suddenly interested. “We get the money?”

“For camp scholarships,” Delaney was quick to clarify. “Or something along those lines to be decided by the church. But even more important than the money, our reward will be helping this family—father, mother and five children—live under one roof again.”

“Five kids?” Travis leaned forward, pinning Delaney with a sharp look. “Don’t tell me this house is for the Masons. That oldest kid of theirs is a real jerk. It was good riddance when he went to live with his loser dad last year.”

Travis wasn’t exaggerating. The same age as fifteen-year-old Anna, the Mason boy had been nothing but trouble. And “loser” wasn’t an entirely inappropriate term for the kid’s father, although Travis shouldn’t have publicly called him that.

Lizzie Mason and her husband Benton were artsy types who’d settled here a few years ago. Working part-time jobs and selling their handcrafted wares, by their own choosing they’d not had an easy time of it and too often looked to others for assistance. Last summer Luke had an unpleasant run-in with Benton about delinquent rent on a commercial property and again the following autumn regarding Benton’s son. Then came the drunk driving episode that resulted in injuries that put Benton out of work and into physical therapy and alcohol rehab.

Delaney had committed the youth group to a project helping people like that? Rewarding people who’d made no effort to take responsibility for their lives? Not a good idea.

Delaney hesitated now, as if unsure how to respond to Travis’s question about the project family. “I believe...the name is Mason. The youngest is a twelve-year-old-girl.”

A few kids groaned.

Travis flopped back on the sofa, arms folded. “I’m not helping any Masons.”

A few kids laughed, but Scottie gave him a frosty look. “I think it’s a good project. Samantha is a nice little girl. She can’t help it that her father gets drunk.”

“I agree,” Sybil chimed in. “Cleaning and painting won’t take that much of our time. We’re supposed to help people in need, aren’t we? And don’t forget, the youth group gets the bonus money.”

Several others nodded agreement.

But this project seemed destined for failure. Surely there were other worthy projects to pick from. Off the top of his head, he could think of several.

“We can talk about it further when I have more detailed information to share.” Delaney gave Travis a look, as if expecting him to spout off again. “So I’ll let you return to your activities now.”

For a few silent minutes Delaney watched them settle back in to their board games, then headed to the kitchen. Grabbing the opportunity to speak with her in private, Luke joined her a few minutes later. When he rapped his knuckles on the door frame, she glanced up from the sink where she was rinsing dishes with a vengeance, then dried her hands on a dish towel, her eyes questioning.

Unexpectedly, his breath caught as the light glinted off the soft waves of golden hair. She’d pulled it off her forehead with a tiny green ceramic frog clip, and her peach-colored cotton top, adorned with embroidered butterflies, complemented her coloring and those beautiful hazel eyes.

“Is there something I can help you with, Luke? More snacks? Ice? Lemonade?”

“No, no. The food was great. Plentiful. Exactly what kids that age enjoy most.”

She nodded as if relieved. “Good.”

He leaned a shoulder against the refrigerator and studied her for a moment, not sure how to begin. “Actually, I want to apologize for Travis’s behavior this evening.”

Surprise flickered through her eyes.

“He’s usually a laid-back kid, easy to get along with. But something got into him tonight and we’ll be having a talk when my temper cools.”

She stared down at the floor for a moment, almost as if counting to ten, then back up at him. “Don’t be too hard on him. You were right about what you’d mentioned the other day. Some of the kids, especially the boys, are disappointed that the original summer intern bailed.”

“That’s no excuse for discouraging the others from participating in this evening’s planned activities. He basically shut down discussion.”

She raised a delicate brow. “I’m not sure that it was entirely Travis’s fault.”

As he’d suspected, she was taking the blame. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m not—”

He held up his hand to stay the apology forming on her lips. “Tonight’s behind us, tomorrow’s a clean slate. But I do believe more thought needs to be given to your choice of summer projects.”

A crease formed between her brows. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “You’re new to town. You don’t know the history behind the Masons. Benton’s an artist whose last drunk driving episode got him thrown out of the house. Lizzie’s trying to make a go of candle making and textile design, but why she insisted on staying here alone with four of the five children is beyond me. And now it sounds as if her husband and oldest son intend to come back to town, too. But Lizzie and Benton need to get their artsy heads out of the clouds, relocate and find real jobs.”

“It’s my understanding,” Delaney said quietly, “that she’s holding down several jobs and her husband has successfully completed alcohol rehabilitation.”

“That’s all well and good. But what if he comes back here and discovers nothing has changed? That making a go of their artistic pursuits is no more lucrative and parenting five kids isn’t any easier now than it was before?”

Delaney again stared at the floor. That counting to ten business again. Then she raised her eyes to his. “I understand your concerns, but High Country Hope Ministries feels strongly that this family deserves a second chance. That they have a good possibility of succeeding this time. I’ve already committed us to it. We can’t back out. They’re counting on us.”

With a shake of his head, he pushed away from the refrigerator. “What’s the timeline on this again?”

“We have to be done by the end of July if Hope Ministries is to relocate the family, have the August rent returned and the youth group granted the bonus. Otherwise August thirty-first, with no refund and no bonus.”

“That first deadline is only seven or eight weeks away.” No, she hadn’t thought this through. “Kids have family vacations scheduled, music and sports camps, summer jobs. They aren’t going to be available all day, every day. Maybe not much at all.”

“I don’t think it will take long to clean and paint. To do yard work. Garrett thought it entirely doable.”

“You’re assuming, too,” he countered, “that you’ll get buy-in from the kids. That Mason boy was a bully and a brat. Not well liked. Be prepared for pushback from some parents, too.”

“Pushback?” She folded her arms, her chin lifting. “Like from you?”

“I’m not—” Well, maybe he was. “When will we get to take a look at this property?”

Her eyes narrowed—not caring for the we he’d thrown in there? He’d have found that fiery spark in her gaze more than a bit attractive had it not been leveled at him.

“I’m sorry, Delaney, but I’m not committing my kids to the project until I know more about it. Other parents will feel the same. Some of us have participated in past projects right along with our children. It’s a good family bonding experience.”

Her frown deepened. She took exception to fostering parent-kid time?

She took a deep breath. “I’ll arrange for us to see the property this next week. Maybe invite parents for an overview meeting with a Hope Ministries representative. Does that meet your expectations?”

“It’s a start.”

But it was clear that with Delaney in charge, he’d have to keep an even closer eye on the youth group. Exactly what he didn’t have time for right now.

* * *

“Does Travis and Anna’s dad come to a lot of the youth activities?”

Determined to calm—or confirm—her worst fears, Delaney had detained Garrett when he returned and everyone else dispersed for the night. It appeared she’d be seeing a lot of Mr. Hunter this summer, but under circumstances she’d prefer to avoid.

Garrett offered a grin. “He’s one of those involved parents I mentioned to you earlier.”

Involved.

As in engaged. Committed. On board.

In other words, in the way and messing up the youth group vibe.

How could she draw out the teens and get them to open up and share with her and each other if he conducted surveillance from the sidelines as he’d done this evening? When she’d hinted that tonight’s less-than-satisfactory level of participation wasn’t due solely to Travis, he’d had the gall to urge her not to blame herself.

And to think only a short while ago she’d hoped to see him more often. Be careful what you wish for?

“Travis didn’t seem too thrilled to have him here.”

“When you were seventeen, would you have wanted your father keeping watch over you and your pals, listening in on every word you said?”

Actually, she’d have given almost anything if it meant her father would still be alive. But she could see there was a problem here. If her most recent encounter with Luke was indicative of what she could expect from him, he had an opinion on everything. And, like her ex-boyfriend and Aunt Jen, felt called upon to offer unsolicited advice.

“Have you talked to Luke about this?” Maybe she could enlist Garrett’s support. “Explained that he needs to back off and give his teenagers breathing space?”

“Only a hundred times.”

She placed her hands on her hips. Some people were clueless and it aggravated her that Luke was one of them. “Doesn’t he realize being a helicopter dad, hovering over them all the time, isn’t healthy for the kids—or for him?”

And it made her nervous.

“I think he’s aware it causes friction at times, but it’s hard for him to let go. He takes being a dad seriously.”

Delaney snorted.

“Too seriously, if you ask me. Like, hello?” She didn’t care for Luke disrupting the youth group project dynamics. That is, if the project got off the ground. “I’m sure his kids think ‘Get a life, Dad.’”

“Probably. But don’t be too hard on him. He’s had a rough time of it.”

“How so?” Is this where she’d hear about the nightmare of an ex-wife? There had to be a story behind that sadness she sometimes glimpsed in his eyes, something beneath this overinvolved, overprotective dad stuff.

Garrett glanced away as if unwilling to say anything further.

“I assume,” she prompted, not wanting to be left hanging, her questions unanswered, “you’re alluding to a nasty divorce?”

For a long moment he remained silent. Then he shook his head.

“A divorce would be bad enough, but no. Not a divorce.” He massaged the back of his neck with his hand, obviously reluctant to continue.

A knot formed in her stomach. Had the children’s mother died as had hers? An accident? Health issues?

“If I’m going to spend my summer with these kids—and apparently their father, too—don’t you think I should have a clear understanding of the situation?”

Garrett let out a pent-up breath. “Yeah, I suppose that’s only fair. But if I tell you, you can’t say anything to Luke, okay? He doesn’t like to talk about it and he wouldn’t like me or anyone else talking about it, either.”

“I won’t say anything.” She mimed zipping her lips. “I promise.”

“Then it’s like this, Delaney...” Garrett’s bleak gaze held hers. “Luke’s wife—the mother of his kids—killed herself six years ago.”

Chapter Four

Looking out the window where he was seated at the rustic Log Cabin Café, Luke paused, his coffee cup halfway to his lips.

Where was Delaney Marks off to this Monday morning, her head held high and a portfolio tucked under one arm? Her hair, swept into a low ponytail, bounced between her shoulder blades and a print skirt matching a solid sage-green top swirled around her ankles.

Oh, right. She’d said something about wanting to get her jewelry sold through the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Co-op. Maybe that’s where she was going? He didn’t know a whole lot about that kind of thing, but he’d been honest when he’d said he liked her work. His younger sister Rio would likely pounce on one of those rings.

Now immediately across the road from the café, Delaney jerked to a halt. She started to turn away as if to return from where she’d come, then halted again. Opening the portfolio, she reached inside to check its contents. Then seemingly satisfied that all was as it should be, she closed it up and tucked it under her arm once again. And away she went.

He couldn’t help but smile—and utter a silent prayer that she’d find a home for her jewelry. He wasn’t particularly thrilled with the influx of artisans into town, but what could one more hurt?

“Enjoying the scenery, are you, Luke?”

Yanked from his reverie, he downed the remainder of his coffee and faced the café’s owner. A big bruiser of a guy in his early sixties, he sported a shiny shaved head and close-cropped beard. A former Marine, he wasn’t someone you’d care to meet in a dark alley if he didn’t call you friend.

“Looks to be a nice day, Packy.”

“I figured you might think that.” His friend chuckled as Luke lifted a hand to stop a coffee refill. “Pretty gal, isn’t she? I heard she’s helping with the Christ’s Church youth program this summer. Better keep an eye on Travis.”

Packy winked, and Luke’s fingers involuntarily tightened on the cup. “Travis already has a girlfriend.”

What was he saying? Girlfriend or no girlfriend, Delaney was way too old to be potential sweetheart material for his son. Just as she was way too young for him.

“Maybe so. But boys will be boys and that little lady is a sure-enough eye catcher.” Packy chuckled again, handed him his bill, and moved on to the next table.

Thanks a lot, buddy, for giving me another thing to worry about. He and Travis had talked before he’d left for school and it was mutually agreed that he owed Delaney an apology. He was proud of that boy—most of the time. Had he given his own dad so much grief as a teen?

Probably, if their current relationship was any indication. Please, Lord, don’t let me and Travis end up in the same place as I am with Dad.

He glanced at the slip of paper Packy had given him, pulled cash from his wallet, then tucked the bills under his coffee cup. He needed to get going. He had more important things to do today than gawk at Delaney Marks. At any woman for that matter. But when he stepped outside, he couldn’t help but scan the street for some sign of her.

She’d already disappeared.

He called to Rags, who’d been basking in the sun outside the café, then held open the door to his Chevy crew cab for the pup to make a running leap inside. While they kept office space here in town for the sake of convenience, Hunter’s Hideaway was the heart and soul of Hunter Enterprises and he needed to get on back to home base.

The Hideaway, as most called the extensive, wooded property, had been in the family for six generations. In fact, it was the first business on the ridge, one started by his great-great-grandparents to accommodate the needs of hunters and back-country explorers in the early 1900’s. Originally only a handful of cabins and a corral, it set the tone for a town that would soon follow. What would his ancestors think of it now? Boasting dozens of cabins, an inn with dining facilities, a general store, horse boarding, trail rides and more, it kept Luke’s extended family busy around the clock.

He had a lot to get done today, but business with a potential hay supplier had required a breakfast meeting in town. It was already past nine now and he had more than enough to do to fill the coming hours.

“The day’s getting away from us, Rags.”

The dog sitting on the seat next to him perked his ears, tail wagging, and Luke gave him a hearty pat just as his cell phone rang.

“How goes it, Luke?” The voice of his old army comrade, Josh, echoed warmly across the miles.

About eight hundred miles, to be exact. If all went as hoped, he’d be able to drive the kids from Kansas back to Hunter Ridge for most major holidays and a few weeks each summer. But he wasn’t ready to break that news to them just yet.

He inserted the key in the ignition and rolled down the window on the driver’s side. “I guess congratulations are in order for that diploma a few weeks ago. Assuming you didn’t get kicked out the door before graduation day, that is.”

“Yeah, I finally got that university sheepskin. Feels good.”

Both of his Kansas friends, a handful of years younger than Luke, had taken advantage of the GI Bill to further their education. That’s something he’d intended to do. Where had time gotten to? But that lack of a degree was something he could remedy once he relocated to the Sunflower State.

“So what’s up?” Luke’s gaze roamed the street. Then, disgusted to realize he was looking for Delaney again, he turned away from the window.

“Vinnie thought we should touch base since we haven’t talked in a while. See if you’re on board to join up when that loan comes through.”

“I am.” Vinnie and Josh had a solid business plan—thanks to help from him—as well as a need for someone computer and numbers savvy to oversee the accounting of their growing enterprise. Several banks had turned them down on the expansion loan, but they had high hopes for this latest application. “Say the word.”

“That’s what we wanted to hear. I’ll relay this to Vinnie, so have a good rest of your day, buddy.”

“That’s it?” He’d always teased Josh for his reticence, so unlike Vinnie, who’d talk your ear off. “You don’t want to know what the weather is like here today or how my kids are doing?”

Josh laughed. “Report that in an email, okay? A short one.”

Still smiling, Luke shut off the phone and started up the truck. Those guys were top-notch. Definitely men he’d wanted watching his back in a combat zone. It would be great working with them again. Before school started, if all went well.

Not too far down the street he slowed to take the first of several curves snaking up the ridge through town and glanced toward the Artists’ Co-op gallery. A natural stone building, it bumped up against a quilt shop on one side and an empty Hunter-owned storefront on the other.

No sign of Delaney.

He pressed his foot to the gas pedal and continued on, noting again how art-related studios and shops were filling in the empty properties more and more. He shook his head.

Luke rolled down the window on the passenger side, letting the cool air swirl in to hit him full in the face. Yeah, Uncle Doug’s ex-wife, Charlotte, had started it all. That divorce had caused his uncle—the whole family—a heap of trouble.

“And you know what, buddy?” He glanced at Rags. “She not only had the gall to sell and lease to outsiders the properties her lawyers wrested away from Uncle Doug, she made sure she got them into the hands of those she knew would most stick in the craw of the community.”

His grip tightened on the wheel. One artist soon became two. Then three. And four... What if by a freak turn of events Sunshine Carston beat his mother during the town council elections? While the council had cautiously addressed the demands of that growing community, they’d never before had one of them in their midst.

What if Delaney Marks got involved in the campaign? He’d tried to warn her off that first day when he’d caught a glimpse of Sunshine’s flier in her possession. But with her committing the kids to that Mason house deal, he didn’t put a whole lot of confidence in her personal judgment.

“Don’t borrow trouble,” he said aloud, slowing to drive down a graveled, tree-lined stretch of road that led to home. Sun dappled through the needled branches of the towering pines, a jay called out, and the familiar scent of the forest wafted through the open windows. He relaxed his hands on the steering wheel, determined not to dwell on the consequences of Aunt Char’s vindictive betrayal of the family she’d married into. There was nothing he could do about that. Water under the bridge.

But he might yet be able to steer Ms. Marks away from local politics. And possibly even get her to recognize that another project would be more suitable than bending over backward to assist the Masons.

* * *

“Your workmanship shows much promise. But it’s not quite there yet.”

A wave of icy cold washed through Delaney as she stared into the keen black-brown eyes of Sunshine Carston, manager of the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative.

They were seated across from each other at a small oak table, the wood-trimmed display cases around them glinting invitingly in the soft light. Oil, acrylic, pastels and watercolor paintings, as well as wood and hammered copper designs, adorned walls or free-standing easels. Pottery and sculpted pieces joined a wide array of ceramic tiles, blown glass, and handmade leather handbags and belts. But, as always, it had been the jewelry in the glass cases that drew her the moment she’d stepped through the gallery’s doors.

Swallowing back the lump forming in her throat, she prayed Ms. Carston—Sunshine, she’d told Delaney to call her—wouldn’t perceive the wrenching impact of her point-blank pronouncement.

“I... I understand.”

But she didn’t. Her friends loved her rings and bracelets. Earrings. Charms. They said she should try to sell them, that maybe she could eventually earn a living doing what she loved most. Hadn’t Luke Hunter, a total stranger, even said her work was nice? No, not merely nice. Very nice.

Luke. A knot twisted in her stomach at the thought of the handsome widower. While an unexpected negative response to her artistic efforts was a kick in the gut, this wasn’t a tragedy like he and his children had suffered. Still suffered, for how could you ever recover from such a blow? With considerable effort, she refocused her thoughts on Sunshine, attempting to keep things in perspective.

But, to her shame, she failed miserably. How sure she’d been that her efforts would be welcomed, that she’d soon have a foot in the door to a future she could get excited about.

Studying Delaney’s sampling of jewelry displayed against a sweep of dark velvet fabric, Sunshine brushed back her raven-black hair. Cut at an angle, shoulder-length in front and slightly shorter in back, it emphasized her high cheekbones, straight nose and a smooth, warm-toned complexion. Native American ancestry? She didn’t look much older than Delaney, but there was something about the self-assured way she carried herself and looked at you, as if she could see right into your soul, that made Delaney feel about ten years old.

“How long did you say you’ve been working with silver? Since high school?” Obviously Sunshine doubted that anyone could have been making jewelry since a teen and have their work riddled with the flaws her experienced eyes must see.

Delaney clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “We made silver rings in high school art class. I loved it and have been making silver, beaded, and other kinds of jewelry ever since.”

A kitchen table hobbyist. That’s what Dwayne had dismissively called her.

A slight crease formed between Sunshine’s brows as she again picked up one of the rings and tilted it in the lamplight. She tapped a blunt, unpolished fingernail on the inside of the ring. “See this seam? The bump?”

Delaney nodded. She’d worked hard on that one, trying to smooth out the solder without weakening the joint. Only an expert eye would have seen it as a flaw.

“And this?” Sunshine pointed to the setting. “This is too prominent, too fragile. Not organically incorporated into the design. It could easily catch on something, break off and the wearer would lose the stone.”

Numb, Delaney nodded.

“Which is another thing...” Sunshine set the ring back on the velvet. “You need to upgrade the quality of your gemstones. I would also suggest something other than the turquoise you’ve used here if you want to stand out from the Native American artists.”

Delaney was familiar with the work of those appearing in Arizona park and roadside stands, in shops and in exclusive galleries throughout the Southwest. The latter were award-winning, highly collectible artists. While awed by their talent, she’d never considered herself to be a competitor and had deliberately not imitated traditional native designs.

“I don’t make jewelry full-time, of course.” How pathetic her pieces now looked lying there under the illuminating brilliance of a gooseneck lamp. “I work it in around my job when I can.”

Shut up, Delaney. Stop sounding as though you’re making excuses for inferior work. Why hadn’t she listened to Aunt Jen and Dwayne and not put herself through this embarrassment? But oh, no, she’d been certain they were wrong.

After what seemed an excruciatingly long moment, Sunshine again looked up from where she’d continued to study the jewelry. “What do you do for a living?”

Delaney lifted her chin slightly. “Computer programming.”

The corners of Sunshine’s lips lifted, her eyes warming. “No wonder you need a creative outlet.”

“I enjoy the challenge.” And she did. Most of the time. Not like Dwayne did, though, who lived and breathed programming and couldn’t understand her need for anything else. But Aunt Jen had urged her on her career path, and since her aunt had been the one paying the bills... “But my heart has always been with the fine arts.”

The other woman met her gaze in sympathy. “Which can be a rocky road if you hope to support yourself at it.”

“No immediate plans to.” Delaney forced a laugh, as if to prove to Sunshine that she hadn’t expected anything like that. But she had. Drawing comfort from the faint scent of oil paints and leather, she reluctantly glanced toward the glass cases where two women were excitedly examining the jewelry. Nothing of her own would be joining those beautifully arranged displays this summer.

“I don’t want to take up any more of your time. You have customers.” With a quick, apologetic smile, she rose to her feet. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

Surprise lit Sunshine’s eyes. Did people who were turned down for the co-op argue with her? Plead their case? But too clearly there was jewelry like she was making...and then there was fine jewelry that this gallery featured.

Sunshine stood as well, watching as Delaney carefully returned her silver pieces to a velvet-lined box which she then slipped into her portfolio.

“Please don’t leave here feeling as if your work holds no value. Even at your present skill level, you could make reasonable sales.” Sunshine folded her arms, her sharp black-brown eyes assessing. “Your designs have a light, feminine touch that many beginning to work with silver are incapable of producing. Often newbie pieces have a clunky, even masculine feel to them even though they’re meant for women.”

“Thank you.” But the approving words did little to appease the sick feeling in Delaney’s stomach. “I’d hoped to test the waters this summer, to see if my work might be saleable at the co-op on consignment, but I realize now that my coming here was premature.”

Much too premature.

Sunshine walked her to the door. “Have you given any thought to working with a mentor? Another silversmith? It’s something you might want to consider. If you decide that’s a path you’d like to pursue, come see me again. I may be able to help you work something out with a local artist.”

“Unfortunately, I’m only here for the summer to work with a church youth group.”

Together Delaney and Sunshine stepped outside under the gallery’s striped awning.

“Thanks again and...” Delaney nodded to a flyer taped to the front door of the gallery. “I hope all goes well for the town council run.”

Sunshine laughed. “It’s a long shot. The old-timers are entrenched here. But the growing number of artists making this a home need a voice in local government. We need support to grow our businesses and carve out a comfortable niche in a town dominated by hunters, horsemen and hikers who tend to eye us with suspicion.”

“Why suspicion?”

Sunshine’s smile faltered. “We’re called ‘outsiders’ by many and ‘aliens’ by some, as if oil paint, pottery kilns and other artistic tools might pollute the macho, outdoorsy atmosphere. It’s been an uphill battle all the way.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you settle in Hunter Ridge? Why not someplace more welcoming?”

Something Delaney couldn’t read flickered through the other woman’s eyes, then quickly shuttered. Sunshine motioned to the shady street before them. “Cool summers are inviting to shoppers from the Phoenix area. That can be a big business draw if we had the opportunity to develop it more. The town’s floundered for quite a few years. Its focus on one aspect for their economy—outdoorsmen—has left it vulnerable.”

“There’s the overall economic hit this country has taken, too,” Delaney added. Canyon Springs had been impacted as well.

“Right. Over time the population here has dropped to under two thousand. Businesses have closed.” Sunshine surveyed the buildings along the street. “The plus side is there’s now more commercial space available. But even with prices jacked up—to keep us out, I suspect—property is less expensive than in more flourishing towns like Sedona or even Canyon Springs.”

“It sounds as if Hunter Ridge is the perfect spot for potential artistic projects.”

“It is. If you’re interested in learning more, come by tonight for our first town council campaign meeting. Seven o’clock. Here.”

“Thanks.” It sounded like a worthwhile cause. But Delaney wasn’t making any commitments. Not only had Luke Hunter warned her about getting involved in local politics but, with her artistic self-confidence shot to smithereens, she wasn’t up to hobnobbing with the established artisans of Hunter Ridge.

No, tonight would find her packing up her silversmithing supplies and stuffing them in a dark corner of the closet—and trying to come up with a way to convince Luke Hunter that the project she’d selected was the best choice for the youth group.

Chapter Five

“So this is it?”

Delaney cringed inwardly as Luke, hands placed on his slim, jeans-clad hips, raised a questioning brow at the matted layers of pine needles and pinecones littering the front yard of the house that was to be the youth group’s summer project. His skeptical eyes took in the broken-down fence and crumbling concrete walkway. A cracked window.

If only she’d had the opportunity to see the place the first time by herself, not under the scrutiny of an already dubious parent, albeit a handsome one. Just before noon that Tuesday morning, following a trip to see Aunt Jen, she’d picked up the keys from High Country Hope Ministries, only to be intercepted by Luke who’d invited himself along for a preview of the place.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.