A Love Reunited

Councilman Jake Talford is determined to protect his small Arizona town. Even if that means keeping a close eye on former sweetheart Macy Colston. Macy has come to Canyon Springs to get the scoop for her popular blog Hometowns with Heart. The rest of the town council hopes it will bring in the tourists. But Jake’s worried she’ll turn local gossip into public scandal. He and Macy once shared dreams of a future together. Now it’s up to Jake to make her see what’s most important in life—love, faith and truth.

“Remember these are real people with real lives. They aren’t striving to catch the world’s eye.”

“But isn’t that why the town competed to have me come here?” Her lips twitched in an amusement that belied the tightness in her throat. “My blog puts forgotten little places in the limelight.”

“All I’m asking is that you not exploit anyone. I think you owe me that.”

Her breath caught. “I did the right thing.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Macy.”

She strengthened her grip on the purse in her lap. “I’m a journalist. What we’re called to share with the public doesn’t always make us feel great.”

His firm jaw clenched. “I see.”

But he didn’t. He never had. If she could go back in time, maybe she’d handle the situation differently. Or maybe she wouldn’t. A man who couldn’t support her career choice wasn’t the man for her.

“You’re not to tell anyone we knew each other previously,” he continued. “Understand?”

Not a request, a demand. She could only nod her response, also preferring no one knew she shared a past with this hard-hearted, mulish man.

GLYNNA KAYE

treasures memories of growing up in small Midwestern towns—in Iowa, Missouri, Illinois—and vacations spent in another rural community with the Texan side of the family. She traces her love of storytelling to the many times a houseful of great-aunts and great-uncles gathered with her grandma to share hours of what they called “windjammers”—candid, heartwarming, poignant and often humorous tales of their youth and young adulthood.

Glynna now lives in Arizona, and when she isn’t writing she’s gardening and enjoying photography and the great outdoors.

A Canyon Springs Courtship

Glynna Kaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests but also to the interests of others.

—Philippians 2:3–4

If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

—John 8:36

To Helen Blackburn, my longtime “kindred spirit” and prayer warrior, whose faithfulness to God and to our friendship continues to inspire me.

Thank you.

Contents

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

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Now he’d done it. He’d unthinkingly stuck his nose smack into Macy Colston’s business. The last thing he had any intention of doing.

Standing next to the high-backed booth at Kit’s Lodge and Restaurant, Jake Talford stared down at Macy’s upturned face, barely noticing the teenage girl seated across from her who slipped from the booth and headed to the door, no doubt cowed by his stern expression.

In spite of himself, he hungrily searched Macy’s delicate, winsome features. The flawless skin he knew to be satiny smooth under his fingertips. The subtle blush caressing high cheekbones. Expressive green eyes. But what was he searching for? Evidence that the still-appealing countenance no longer masked the relentless ambition he’d come to know too well?

“Macy,” he said with a nod of acknowledgment, keeping his voice low. His heart hitched as he hurtled back in time six years to when he’d last seen the aspiring journalist. Back to the pain that had all but cracked open his heart—just like the ring box he’d flung across the room that day.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t miss the fleeting alarm that shot through them. She wasn’t any happier to see him than he was to see her.

“What are you doing in Canyon Springs, Jake?” Her soft, well-remembered voice held an edge, almost as if she suspected he’d stalked her to this small Arizona mountain community.

“I live here.” He raised a brow at her blank look. “Surprised? Slacking on research isn’t your customary style.”

Her long-lashed eyes not leaving his, she licked her lower lip in an almost nervous gesture. His grip tightened on the Windbreaker jacket fisted in his hand. Macy? Nervous? Since when?

“I thought you were from Phoenix.”

“Born there. Didn’t stay there.” But he didn’t intend to rehash his history now. He motioned to the empty seat across from her. “Your friend is gone. Does that mean you’re finished here?”

“I—”

“Good.” Even though the Saturday lunchtime crowd was relatively sparse this time of year, he didn’t care to have an audience for the conversation they needed to have. He dropped a twenty next to her coffee mug. “Then let’s take this elsewhere, shall we?”

For a moment she hesitated, as if she feared leaving the rustic restaurant’s dining room might not be a wise move. Then with a toss of her long, honey-blond hair she cast him a self-assured smile and gracefully rose. With a swirl of her floral sundress, she preceded him to the lobby. He moved to hold open the door and together they stepped onto the wooden-planked front porch. A bitter wind and a flurry of snowflakes greeted them.

April in the high country.

He took a step toward the parking lot. “My SUV’s this way.”

She didn’t budge. “Where are we going?”

“Where the whole town won’t hear what I have to say.”

An amused half smile surfaced, reminding him of the many times he’d deliberately said and done things to provoke it, an excuse to kiss it from her lips. What a fool he’d been.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Jake, I’m not wearing boots.”

He glanced down at sandaled feet peeping from beneath the flowing cotton sundress, then shook his head.

“When I left Phoenix this morning,” she enlightened him, “it was to be an eighty degree day. While your chamber of commerce sang the praises of a four season, higher-than-Denver elevation, nobody breathed a word about packing a parka and mukluks in April.”

He thrust his Windbreaker into her hands. “Put this on. Then wait here. I’ll get the truck.”

Aware of her sharp gaze focused on his back, he strode across the graveled parking lot, two inches of snow crunching under his Western boots. He thrust his hand into his trouser pocket, searching for the miniature cross that had once been his grandfather’s. He’d taken to carrying it as Granddad had, finding that the sensation of the smooth, seashell surface sliding between his fingers somehow grounded him. It reminded him not only that God was in control, but that he needed to measure up to the example his grandfather had set for him. And that meant not letting his temper get the better of him.

It was bound to happen, though, this running into Macy. He’d known she was expected, and in a town with a population of just under three thousand, he wouldn’t have been able to avoid her forever. But on her first day of a monthlong assignment while he was dining with a client? He hadn’t been ready for that.

He should have had the foresight to contact Macy in private before her arrival. Truth be told, he hadn’t been thinking proactively, only hoped she’d get in and out of town before she even knew he called Canyon Springs home.

So much for that strategy.

Jake climbed into his vehicle and glanced back at the two-story log cabin lodge. Macy, chin lifted obstinately, still stood on the porch, his jacket folded primly in her crossed arms. He had to hand it to her for not turning on a dainty heel and marching back into the building after he’d almost strong-armed her from it. But then, she always had gumption.

Memory flashed to the day they’d first met. She’d stood almost exactly like that at a Missouri estate sale, the spark in her beautiful eyes daring him to outbid her. Even though he hadn’t cared about the chair, he’d dragged the bidding out as long as he could, wanting to keep her attention on him A practicing attorney’s funds trumped the ponytailed undergrad’s budget. But when immediately afterward he’d offered to sell the antique office chair to her for a dollar, she’d given him a sassy grin and said she wasn’t interested in the chair...just the bidder.

Pushing the memory away, he grabbed the leather briefcase and loose papers from the passenger side bucket seat and tossed them in the back, then started the SUV. With the windshield wipers in motion, he glanced again in Macy’s direction.

“Lord,” he muttered under his breath. “What are You thinking bringing her here?”

Sitting in the high-backed booth directly behind her a short while ago, their backs to each other, he’d recognized her voice before he’d seen her. When his client departed he remained frozen in place, lingering to listen to her interactions with those around her. As a professional blogger with the popular site Hometowns With Heart, Macy had an uncanny knack for ferreting out tasty personal tidbits to liven up her posts. She had put those skills to good use today. But this was his town. His people. He wouldn’t allow her to take advantage of them for the sake of boosting her blog’s popularity.

“Give me the right words. I don’t want to start a war.”

When he pulled the SUV to a stop in front of the lodge, Macy stepped forward as if impervious to the snow and whipping wind. Once inside, she shut the door, laid her purse on her lap and fastened her seat belt. Then she carefully placed his unused jacket on the console between them.

Still stubborn.

He bumped up the heat a notch, knowing she’d never ask him to, then drove toward the parking lot’s exit and down the wet, hard-topped street. Casey Lake seemed a suitable destination. Or he’d drive clear to Albuquerque if that’s what it took to make the situation clear to her.

But why’d she have to smell so good? Fresh. Citrusy. Just as he remembered.

“So what’s on your mind, Jake?”

He remembered that, as well. Even at twenty-two she’d been direct. Confident. Not easily cowed. Not that he wanted to intimidate her now, just get her to understand—and agree—that breaking confidences shared by community residents was outside the boundaries of her invitation to feature Canyon Springs in her blog.

A quick glance in her direction confirmed that the initial signs of nervousness when he’d caught her off guard had vanished. Her countenance, even lovelier than it had been years ago, remained unruffled. Reminding himself not to get distracted, he tightened his hands on the steering wheel.

“I managed to keep out of it when your waitress related the story of her courtship. It might not be something her husband would want broadcast, but it’s nothing the town doesn’t already know.”

Macy shifted in her seat, but didn’t interrupt.

“And Reuben Falkner,” he continued as they passed by towering ponderosa pines dusted with snow, “he can be a cantankerous old guy, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s on his own. But when sweet, notoriously naive Chloe Bancroft started to shoot off her mouth about her equally sweet and notoriously naive stepmother, well—”

Macy gave a soft gasp.

“Are you suggesting I set her up to disclose private family matters to share in my blog?”

“You led her down a breadcrumb-strewn path,” he said, keeping his tone firm. “Skillfully, I might add. You haven’t lost your touch.”

Her lips tightened. “I never set you up, Jake.”

Still sticking to that lame story, was she?

“Ah, Macy...” He shook his head, unable to resist a bitter smile. “A song so sweet each time I hear it played—but nevertheless no more convincing today than it was years ago.”

She pressed her now ramrod-straight back against the leather seat and stared out the side window. “Then take me back to Kit’s Lodge, please. I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Good.” He nodded agreeably. “Then I can talk and you can listen.”

He turned the SUV onto the highway and pressed his foot on the accelerator. “I’ve been reading your blog since last November, ever since the city council and chamber of commerce first decided to storm the gates for inclusion.”

She continued to gaze out the window, refusing to acknowledge his comment, so he continued. “It’s well done. Entertaining. I can see why it’s become popular.”

Only the blast of the heater fan and the rhythmic squeak of windshield wipers slapping away the lightly falling snow filled the silence that followed his words.

“But...after reviewing years of archived posts, it became clear that the content, the tone, has changed over time. It’s become bolder. More provocative. Tackling issues at a deeper level. If that’s what it takes to drive more traffic to your site then that’s your business. However—”

She whipped toward him, fire in her eyes. “However what?”

How well he remembered that look. That spunk. He’d been drawn to it. Delighted in it. But he’d learned his lesson the hard way.

“This is my home.” He spoke with deliberate restraint, recognizing he’d started off all wrong. He’d riled her up too much and now she was ready for a fight. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He needed her cooperation, not opposition. “The people you’re trying to extract stories from are my friends and neighbors.”

“And?”

“They aren’t accustomed to dealing with the media. For the most part they’re open, transparent and trusting. They don’t realize the blog’s tasty morsels of thinly veiled gossip and tongue-in-cheek humor might hurt or embarrass them and their loved ones when it’s their own personal lives spotlighted on the web.”

“So, what are you?” She seasoned her words with an unconvincing sweetness of tone. “The town’s official media cop?”

“I’m an elected official.” He reached out to cut back the heat. It was sweltering in here now—or was that just him getting hot under the collar? “A city councilman. I represent these people.”

He deliberately didn’t mention this was also a critical time for his own future. Even though he’d only been on the council a year, he hoped to be appointed to the vice mayor position left vacant last week when Parker Benedict stepped down for health reasons. He stood a chance, but he knew it was a long shot. He didn’t need a past shared with Macy Colston interfering with his prospects.

To his annoyance, her sudden lilting laugh unexpectedly warmed his heart, leaving him aching to hear more.

“Well, hello, Mr. Councilman.” She tilted her head, eyes now dancing. “You yourself said the city council decided to bring me here. Remember? You chose to compete with hundreds and hundreds of other small towns.”

Caught off guard by her captivating smile, he studied her a long moment, their history momentarily forgotten. After all this time here she sat right next to him, every bit as alive and vibrant as he remembered. He had only to reach out and...

He drew a steadying breath, eyes again riveted on the road. “I voted against it.”

* * *

Of course he had.

Still reeling from the shock of finding Jake in Canyon Springs, Macy stared at his solemn, rugged profile and desperately wished the rest of the council had sided with him. She’d looked forward to this trip, to the opportunity it held for her blog, for her future. But now she wanted to be anywhere except sitting next to him, knowing he still didn’t understand her or her dreams. Her goals. He didn’t want to understand.

He still believed she’d deliberately used both him and his accountant friend who’d told him of questionable practices where his friend worked. Jake’s harsh accusations from when she’d run with the story still rang in her ears. Selfish ambition. Unworthy of trust. Betrayal.

She forced herself to maintain what she hoped was a pert smile, one that didn’t reveal the pain twisting in her heart. “Nevertheless, your town went all out to get me here with a convincing campaign.”

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I’m aware of that.”

“So are you suggesting I let them down? Pack up and move on to the next town on my schedule?”

No doubt that’s exactly what he’d like. She could see it clearly written all over him, from the top of his dark brown, sun-streaked hair to the tips of his well-oiled Western boots. Was it the same pair she teased him about the first day they’d met? She brushed the thought away, refusing to get sucked into memories of the past. She could see the resolve to be rid of her in the grim set of his mouth, the rigidity of his broad shoulders and the strong, steady hands clenching the steering wheel.

Half a dozen years had passed, but time had only lent him a stronger aura of unbending determination. Had she, years ago, only wishfully imagined she’d coaxed out a softer, more playful side? Nevertheless, he was still a handsome, appealing man who surprisingly didn’t yet sport a wedding band. She kicked herself for noticing.

“I’m only asking,” he continued, “that you remember these are real people with real lives. They aren’t celebrities striving to catch the world’s eye.”

“But isn’t that why the town competed to have me come here? So the community can catch the world’s eye?” Her lips twitched in an amusement that belied the tightness in her throat. “Don’t think for a moment I’m unaware my blog has become a significant promotional tool for small towns across the country. Everywhere I go puts forgotten little places in the limelight, increasing tourism and drawing business. You think I’m using people to promote my blog, but maybe I’m the one being used.”

Jake chuckled, but she sensed he didn’t share her perspective. “All I’m asking is that you not exploit anyone for your own purposes. I think you owe me that.”

Her breath caught. “Patrick never would have come forward, Jake, and you know it. Not if I hadn’t put the story out there.”

“You didn’t know him like I did. He needed time.”

“Time for what? For his colleagues to further misappropriate funds? I waited and waited to see what he’d do. But when he sat on it for weeks...”

“It took Patrick over a year to find another job. Did you know that? No one would trust him enough to hire him after you wrecked his reputation. He could have gone to jail.”

A shaft of cold pierced through her, more chilling than the snow she’d stepped through with sandaled feet. “But he didn’t.”

“No thanks to you.”

“I did the right thing.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Macy.”

She strengthened her grip on the purse in her lap. “I’m a journalist. What we’re called to share with the public doesn’t always make us feel great.”

“Called to share? Or share because it grabs the headlines? Gets picked up by a news wire service and blasted across the country with your byline? Your blog may not be a front-page newspaper story, but it’s still read all over the country. All I’m asking, Macy, is out of respect for me and a town I’ve come to care for that you’ll give me your word not to cross any lines.”

She didn’t expect to unearth any shattering news in this tiny, off-the-beaten-path burg. But in principle, she couldn’t promise to willingly suppress anything the public had a legitimate right to know. “Our definitions of what constitutes line-crossing conflict, so please don’t ask me to do that.”

His firm jaw clenched. “I see.”

But he didn’t. He never had. If she could go back in time, maybe she’d handle the situation differently. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Shady dealings deserved to be exposed. She still believed in the freedom of the press. Still had an instinctive hunger for searching out “the rest of the story” even though she now covered human interest ones rather than the investigative sort. And she still knew that a man who couldn’t wholeheartedly support her career choice wasn’t the man for her. Hadn’t that been what her mother drilled in to her time and time again? Mom should know, if anyone did.

“You’re not to tell anyone we knew each other previously,” he continued. “Understand?”

Not a request, a demand, reinforcing what he’d already made clear—he didn’t want to be associated with her. She could only nod her response, also preferring no one knew she shared a past with this hard-hearted, mulish man.

Jake abruptly slowed the vehicle and swung wide onto the snow-covered, graveled shoulder. For a moment she feared he intended to stop and press his point. But instead, brows lowered, he made a tight U-turn and drove back to town in silence.

Chapter Two

He’d hoped their paths would never cross again.

But gazing down from his Main Street office window to where Macy hurried through the lightly falling snow—coatless, hatless and feet still wedged into those ridiculously citified sandals—he’d clearly hoped in vain.

He stepped slightly back from the window as she glanced up at the two-story, natural stone buildings and then looked around her, almost as if aware of being watched. His chest tightened when she tossed back her hair in a still-familiar gesture, revealing a face every bit as beautiful—and determined—as he remembered.

Heaven help him.

“Look, Jake,” a gruff voice interrupted his reverie, “are you listening to anything I’ve said?”

Jake composed a smile and turned to the balding man who’d barged into his office only minutes ago, Western felt hat in hand. It wouldn’t do for the town’s mayor to pick up on how the sight of Macy had shaken him. As always when dealing with the perceptive Macon T. “Gus” Gustoffsen, he’d be on his best behavior. You never knew but an endorsement for the vice mayorship—and on down the road one by an outgoing mayor for an incoming one—might be worth biding your time and curtailing your temper.

“I haven’t missed a single word.”

The sixty-year-old huffed his disbelief. “As I was saying, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Macy Colston is due to arrive later today, and I’m depending on you to make sure she gets whatever she needs to put Canyon Springs on the map.”

Jake reseated himself behind his grandfather’s beloved old desk, disinclined to mention Macy had already arrived a few hours ago, well in advance of the evening’s official welcome reception. It was an event Jake wouldn’t be attending due to a prior commitment. He nodded to a topographical image of the state of Arizona gracing the wall. “Last time I looked, we’ve been on the map for eighty-five years, even if not legally incorporated the entire time.”

The mayor grimaced as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “You know what I mean. The town’s counting on the publicity she generates to lure in fresh faces and cold hard cash. We need to play extra nice and not do anything to get ourselves on her wrong side.”

It was a little too late to be concerned with that....

Jake cleared his throat. “As you know, I’ve got my hands full with more pressing matters. I’m sure Don and Larry can be trusted to handle it. Maybe Hector or Bernie.”

Gus stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket and lowered his towering frame into one of the upholstered leather chairs. Loosening the bolo tie that accented his Western-cut shirt, he shot a cautious look at Jake. “Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I don’t trust Don and Larry or either of the others.”

“Well, then?”

“It’s just that you have a winning way about you, Jake.” Gus squinted one eye. “A polish. A gift with words that the others can’t hold a candle to. And none of the guys are anything near fancy enough to catch the eye of a pretty city lady.”

Jake reached for a ballpoint pen, his thumb rhythmically clicking the retraction mechanism as the striking features of the “pretty city lady” flashed vividly through his memory. But pretty is as pretty does, as his grandmother was known to say.

“It’s the town that’s in the spotlight here, isn’t it? Not one of us.”

“That’s a fact.” Gus nodded vigorously. “But I don’t doubt you could talk the moon down out of the sky if you had a mind to. You can win her over on our behalf, make sure she does the town justice.”

Jake shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else.”

Gus scowled. “You’ve been a promoter of this town since you moved here half a dozen years ago, but you were the lone dissenting vote against participating in the competition. I still don’t understand what you have against the idea when you know how it will help our town.”

“It’s not that I—” How could he explain it without divulging matters he’d rather not divulge? Rolling back from the desk, he took pleasure in the comforting creak of the old-fashioned wooden chair. It was a perfect match to the desk that dignified his book-lined office, but he’d paid a steep price for it, figuratively if not literally.

Gus smacked his beefy hand on the desktop enthusiastically, mistakenly interpreting Jake’s sudden silence as evidence that he was making persuasive inroads. “Her blog is nearly as popular as that rancher woman’s. You know, the gal who also has the food show? My wife says she almost feels as if she knows her, and that’s how Macy comes across, too. Like you could sit down next to her for a long, cozy chat.”

Jake managed not to choke. Sit down for a chat? Right. That’s exactly how she wanted people to feel—it’s how she got them to lower their guard and open up to her.

He straightened, his gaze lingering on the framed photo of his grandparents, the only decorative item on his desk. “Look, I think Larry and Don or one of the others will do fine. She seems to take a fancy to local color. You can’t beat them for that.”

“No, but...” Gus darted a guarded look in his direction. “Larry, Don and Hector are married. Macy’s not.”

Jake chuckled. “Do you think Andrea, Melissa and Dionne won’t let their men out of their sight as long as Ms. Colston’s in town?”

“Not exactly.” The big man fiddled with his wristwatch. Gus might look and speak like a country boy at times, but he was a shrewd businessman. Something was on his mind even though he was taking his sweet time getting around to it. “You’re not married, Jake.”

Jake placed the pen on his desk and pinned the mayor with a frank look. “Where are you going with this?”

Gus reached again for the handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “Married men have obligations. Commitments. Loyalties. They have to be careful not to give anyone the wrong impression.”

“And?”

Gus wadded the handkerchief in his fist. “As a single man, you’re a free agent, so to speak. You’re at liberty to sweet-talk Macy Colston into portraying us in the most favorable light without anyone questioning your behavior.”

“What exactly do you mean by sweet-talk?”

Gus glanced at the snow dancing outside the window rather than meeting Jake’s gaze. “You know...turn on the charm. Sweep her off her feet. Put stars in her eyes.”

Jake stared at the now-blushing mayor. “Are you saying you want me to fake a romantic interest in this journalist to manipulate her impressions of Canyon Springs?”

“Who’s to say you’d have to fake it?” Gus’s expression brightened. “She’s more than pretty. Smart, too. You’re a good-lookin’ man, or so my wife and oldest daughter tell me. On the sober side, maybe. But you’re easy enough to get along with most of the time, just like your grandfather was. With some effort on your part, I bet you and Macy would hit it off.”

No way would he woo Macy Colston, no matter how noble the cause. He’d steer clear of her in the coming weeks, keeping an eye on her through her blog posts and stepping in only if a questionable situation warranted it. Even if he had any interest in seeing more of the woman—which he didn’t—he had more pressing obligations than babysitting a tenacious journalist. Seeing to Grandma’s welfare for one. The Canyon Springs history book for another. And he had to make sure the city council didn’t do something stupid with the property his grandfather had willed to the town. What had Granddad been thinking when he’d done that anyway?

“Now look, Gus, you know I don’t—”

The big man waved him away. “If you want to get the rest of the council on your side about what to do with that prime bit of real estate the city inherited, it might serve you well to put effort into this. You know, prove you’re a team player.”

Gus had a point. Even though he didn’t vocalize Jake’s added hopes for the vice mayorship, Jake knew the other man was thinking about it, too. There were those who still said his election last year was a fluke considering his sole opposition had abruptly withdrawn from the race. But then again, this was Macy they were talking about....

“Can’t spare the time, Gus.”

“You work too hard. Need to loosen up.” The older man folded his arms. “If you won’t step up for the good of the town, do it for yourself. Have a little fun for a change. This might be your last chance to catch the eye of a looker like Macy Colston. You’re—what? Thirty-two? Thirty-three?”

Thirty-five.

“Give it a shot, Councilman. What do you have to lose?”

Jake stood and punched the intercom button on his desk phone. “Phyllis Diane, would you please call Rob McGuire? I’m supposed to meet him at Singing Rock. Tell him I’m on my way and I apologize in advance for being a few minutes late.”

“Happy to oblige, Jake,” his office assistant responded with a soft Texas drawl. Always amiable, even when putting in Saturday overtime hours, he nevertheless figured it was only a matter of time before she headed for greener pastures and left him and his law partner high and dry.

He pressed the off button and, mustering a smile, snagged his Windbreaker from the antique coat tree behind him. “I appreciate your confidence in my persuasive abilities, Mr. Mayor, but this case is officially closed.”

* * *

Macy’s cell phone played a merry tune and she crossed the room to pull it from the purse she’d left on what looked to be a homemade quilted bedspread. In fact, everything she’d seen of this two-story log cabin lodge and restaurant oozed rustic charm, from its wooden-planked porch to a natural stone fireplace in the lobby to her antiques-filled room. The whole town held such promise...if it wasn’t for Jake calling Canyon Springs home.

“It’s about time you answered.” The familiar voice of her agent-publicist carried across the miles with her usual crisp, no-nonsense tone. You’d have thought she was a native New Yorker and not a Midwestern transplant.

“Hey, sis.” Brushing back her hair, Macy sat on the bed and kicked off her sandals. She’d have to buy more substantial footwear for the coming days if this weather kept up. A heavier coat, too. Maybe gloves.

“So are you at your next assignment yet?”

“I checked in right before lunch. But I should have brought boots.”

“It’s raining?”

“Snowing.”

Silence. Then came a cautious query. “The schedule shows you’re in Arizona...right?”

Macy envisioned her older sister, brow puckered as she shook back her pricey, chin-length bob.

“Nicole, do you remember how we were told Canyon Springs would give my readers a different perspective on the Grand Canyon state? Well, they weren’t kidding. It’s smack in the middle of a huge forest of ponderosa pines. Flocked in white at the moment. Absolutely breathtaking.”

“But it’s April.”

“And it looks like Christmas.” She returned to the window, where fluffy flakes still descended lightly. “I plan to get out and snap a few more photos. With temperatures spiking over much of the country, my readers will love this.”

“Which reminds me of why I called you. I heard from Vanessa this morning.”

Vanessa Riker was the contact person for Macy’s primary blog sponsor, a rapidly expanding chain of organic food store-restaurant combos.

“She mentioned,” Nicole continued, “that their new board is coming close to a decision on increasing their sponsorship. You know what that means, don’t you?”

Macy’s spirits rose in anticipation. “It means I’m closer to doing this full time. No more scrimping to get by. No more cramming in freelance work on the side.”

“It’s bigger than that. Vanessa says they’re not only discussing covering publication costs of a book, but a series of books gleaned from your blog posts. You’d retain the rights, but they’d be exclusively available at all their locations and on their website—with a sweeter than sweet royalty deal for you. And—”

Macy drew in a breath. There was an and?

“—Vanessa said they see real marketing potential tied to your blog. In fact, they asked me to see if you’d be interested in doing a television program.”

At her sister’s words, Macy lowered herself onto an oak rocking chair. She’d hoped for something like this, but hadn’t expected to see it happen so soon. “A television show?”

“They’ve contacted an independent agency to see about the possibility of creating and pitching a pilot to a specialty network. She mentioned there’s genuine interest on their part in committing to commercial time for such a program.”

“Wow.”

“It’s still in the brainstorming stage, but something along the lines of a reality-type program. You know, traveling across America to visit little towns just like you do now. But Vanessa mentioned that in order to justify an investment of that magnitude, you need higher numbers on your blog to draw more traffic to their business. And to get that, you need to give your readers more of what’s being asked for.”

Something juicy. Uncovering a local scandal piece by piece, with cliffhangers from blog to blog. Something Jake would certainly be dead set against, but she wasn’t about to mention to her sister his presence or his opposition. Like Mom, she’d remember Jake from Macy’s university days. They already believed he’d derailed her from a promising career in investigative journalism, undermining her confidence in the direction she’d been heading.

Stop chasing butterflies, her mother had frequently warned her when as a child she’d failed to apply herself to a task at hand. She’d done well to follow that admonition—until Jake came along and she’d nearly allowed herself to get sidetracked. But she was back in the saddle and galloping toward a goal once more. Her professional blogging and human interest story freelancing hadn’t won any accolades from her family—until now—and she wasn’t about to be unseated again.

“It never ceases to amaze me,” Nicole continued, “how transparent people are willing to be with you in exchange for their fifteen minutes of fame.”

Macy laughed. “I’d be surprised, too, if there isn’t a juicy story hidden in the closet of every little town.”

At least that was her hope.

“Vanessa says while they’ve seen gradual improvement with the direction you’ve taken lately, you can’t rely on lame revelations like that recent one about the youth group leader. You know, the one who slipped a bucket of Dairy Queen into his hand-crank ice cream maker and passed it off as his own at a church social.”

“You have to admit it was funny.” Macy smiled, remembering. “He good-naturedly admitted his deception once people started asking him for the recipe.”

Nicole scoffed. “That might be fine for a blog, Macy. All warm and fuzzy. But for TV? Major yawner. Once a sponsor of this caliber promises to invest in you at a level they’re intending, you have to deliver what they want.”

“The board needs to remember it’s the everydayness of the blog that draws people.” Rising from the rocker, Macy again returned to the window. “It’s a peek into small-town life. The hopes, dreams, challenges and rewards of living outside the fast lane. It’s a lifestyle that seems, from the popularity of the blog, to be one that a big chunk of America wishes they could slow down enough to join in on.”

Nicole laughed. “Listen to yourself, Macy. It sounds as if you’re buying into your own spin and have forgotten this blog is merely the means to an end.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” She traced a finger along the window’s polished wooden frame. “I don’t want a sponsor sucking the heart out of it, that’s all. People have certain expectations and those will carry over to a TV program, too.”

“I’m just saying—” Nicole’s voice took on an impatient edge “—if you’re content to do a low-key, chatty little blog for the rest of your life, that’s your choice. But I thought you enlisted my help because you wanted to make something of this. Something big.”

And take her sister along for the increasingly lucrative ride?

She often felt guilty that her highly successful sister spent valuable time on Hometowns With Heart negotiations with relatively little recompense thus far.

“I still want that.” She drew a strengthening breath, hope rising at the possibilities almost within reach. Surely she could ramp up the blog to make it more exciting and still stay in control of the voice and tone she wanted to protect. Nicole just wanted what was best for all of them. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without your help. And Mom’s, of course. It’s just that...well, everything is happening so fast.”

“We’ve got to strike while the iron is hot. Chances like this can evaporate in the blink of an eye. Are you still on board?”

For a fleeting moment she recalled the set of Jake’s jaw and the flatness of his expression when she’d told him she could make no promises. Her mother was right about so many things. Surely she was right that Macy was better off without the influence of a man like that in her life.

“Yes, of course. I’m completely on board.”

Chapter Three

“At least she didn’t say anything about me in her first post from Canyon Springs, Abe.” Jake stared at the laptop he’d placed on the kitchen table next to his Sunday morning breakfast. “As an elected official, I sure don’t want to get a reputation as being an opponent of the press. That could haunt me to the steps of the state capitol. I’ll have to be more careful around her. Stay on my toes. Or better yet, avoid her altogether.”

He scrolled through the Hometowns With Heart blog again, studying several photos taken of the snowy landscape outside Kit’s Lodge. It was quite a contrast from the saguaro cactus and bright flowers she’d posted the previous morning from Phoenix—the Valley of the Sun. His gaze lingered on one photo in particular.

“There she is, buddy, in her sandals and sundress next to a scrawny, two-foot high snowman. Can you believe it?”

He shook his head and glanced over at Abe, who sat patiently by the back door, his brown beagle eyes trained hopefully on his master. Jake smiled. He loved that dog even though it had been Macy who’d badgered him into adopting the little guy from the Central Missouri Humane Society. A puppy, of all things, which had to be potty trained, then fed and walked every day. He’d never done anything that crazy in his whole life. But then, his brain had come unglued during those seven or eight months he’d spent around Macy.

It wasn’t a period in his life he was proud of.

And yet...

Abe—named after Jake’s favorite president—whimpered.

“Hang on, I’m almost done here.” He took another bite of oatmeal, his attention once again trained on the graceful form and laughing eyes of the pretty journalist. She seemed to be enjoying herself, oblivious to the whipping wind that had blown her long hair into a golden aura.

Mouth suddenly dry, Jake drank the remainder of his orange juice. He knew now he’d fallen for her, a woman like none he’d ever met, that first day at the estate sale. Most women considered him too stodgy. Staid. Too focused on the needs of his clients. It’s what made him a good attorney. But he hadn’t had the experience—or the sense—to recognize his own vulnerability to a flirtatious female who acted as if he was the most tempting thing she’d ever seen on her love life’s menu.

Last fall he hadn’t felt compelled to enlighten his fellow council members on the history he shared with the vivacious blogger...and risk losing their hard-earned respect. Keeping silent hadn’t seemed too chancy. After all, what were the statistical odds of his hometown being selected from among hundreds vying for her attention?

Pretty high as it turned out.

“I feel as if I should warn everyone, Abe, but wouldn’t sharing now what I know of her be akin to closing the barn door after the horse got out?”

And how would his clients and constituency react? Would they be able to trust a man who’d broken a professional confidence all because he’d let his guard down with a woman who wasn’t even his wife? He could almost hear the snickers, the comparison of his indiscretion to that of the biblical Sampson and Delilah. That wasn’t something he needed with the vice mayor opening up for grabs.

The tricolored dog whined, almost as if recognizing what Jake knew too well. That, regrettably, his earlier decision to withhold the whole story could end up a sin of omission he and the entire town might come to regret.

“Okay, maybe I came on too strong with her yesterday. Gus is right, none of us need to be getting ourselves on her wrong side.” He scrolled down through the blog post again, then back to the photo. “Do you think I should apologize?”

Abe moved restlessly by the door just as Jake caught a glimpse of the clock above the sink. “Whoa!”

He looked down in alarm at his grungy sweats, then jumped to his feet and rapidly crossed the floor. Opening the door to the fenced-in backyard, he motioned to Abe. “You’d better get out there and do your business, mister, or I’ll be late for church.”

Would Macy be there? Would he have an opportunity to talk to her and smooth things over? Could he prevent a well-meaning churchgoer from signing her up for the prayer chain calls? That privilege would provide her with direct access to every illness, financial problem, kid woe or faltering marriage in town.

He’d better get moving.

As it turned out, he needn’t have rushed. Even with a slight detour to pass by the property Granddad had willed to the city, something that had become a habit in recent days to assure himself all was still as it should be, he was among the early arrivals for the worship service at Canyon Springs Christian Church.

“How’s the book going?” The youthful-looking pastor, Jason Kenton, handed him a stack of bulletins for distribution. As a deacon, one of Jake’s many church-related responsibilities was to meet and greet on Sunday mornings.

“It’s coming along.” Although not nearly as fast as he’d hoped. He wished Grandma had mentioned months ago that Granddad was working on a history of the town, hoping to have it printed for the community’s eighty-fifth birthday celebration at the end of next month. Jake was determined to finish it.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly considering how Granddad was never one to brag about himself, he hadn’t included a chapter on his own life as one of the town’s influential citizens. Jake intended to rectify that omission. But the clock was ticking.

“Lots of people are looking forward to reading that book.” The pastor scrubbed his hand along his close-cropped beard. “Hey, I guess you already know the Hometowns With Heart lady arrived yesterday. Reyna and the kids met her at a welcome reception at Kit’s last night. I’d stayed here late to polish up my sermon notes, so I missed out.”

“She’ll be here for a month. I’m sure you’ll get your opportunity.” But don’t say anything to her you don’t want to see in her blog. Jake held up the bulletins, not eager to continue a conversation about Macy. “I’d better get to my post.”

He tucked his Bible under his arm and stationed himself on the sidewalk between the parking lot and main entrance to the native-stone building set back in the pines. The air was pleasantly cool and pine scented but, typical of springtime snows, yesterday’s frosty deposit had all but melted away. Only traces remained in the most deeply shaded areas.

Jake raised his hand in greeting at the approaching Diaz family, a pang of envy reverberating as he watched second-grader Davy proudly grasp the hand of his father and that of his very pregnant stepmother. Joe had announced at the church’s Thanksgiving feast last fall that he and his wife, high school teacher Meg, had a baby conveniently timed to arrive when the spring semester concluded.

“Good to see you, Joe.” Jake shook his friend’s hand. “You, too, Meg.”

The perky brunette rolled her eyes. “There’s a lot more of me to see than there used to be.”

Jake grinned and ruffled Davy’s hair, then watched thoughtfully as the family entered the building. Father and son bonds—that’s something he didn’t know much about firsthand from either the father or son standpoint.

“Jake!”

He turned to see Paris Perslow approaching from the education wing. A dark-haired young woman with smoke-gray eyes, Paris was the epitome of class. Elegance.

This morning she was dressed in a cranberry wool jacket, matching skirt and black heels, reminding him why in recent days he’d given serious consideration to asking her out. She’d make a perfect partner for a man in public office. Active in social and charitable organizations, she had an impeccable reputation. They had much in common, too, as descendants of the town’s most respected residents. Most important, he couldn’t imagine her ever betraying a trust. Only the fact that a sadness still lingered in her eyes from the death of her fiancé several years ago had held him back.

But maybe it was time to help her—and himself—move on?

“Good morning, Paris.”

She smiled that gracious smile of hers, but before he could tell her how lovely she looked, something behind him caught her attention. With a soft gasp of delight, her delicate eyebrows lifted. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

Her?

He followed Paris’s riveted gaze toward the parking lot. Don James, fellow councilman and brother of Larry, had arrived with his family and he was holding open the vehicle’s door for none other than Macy Colston. Wearing a trim, belted, turquoise dress, a white sweater draped over her shoulders, she glowed with eagerness as her gaze swept her surroundings.

He should have known Macy wouldn’t miss church. While she hadn’t grown up in a believing family and had had her share of faith struggles, by the time he’d met her as a senior in college she’d made that life-changing decision.

“It is the Hometowns with Heart woman.” Paris moved forward, excitement now lighting her eyes. “Did you see her blog this morning with the adorable snowman? Come on, Jake, let’s go meet her.”

When he held back, she turned, her gaze questioning. Then she laughed. “You’ve already met her haven’t you? I forgot as a city councilman you have a front row seat to welcome incoming celebrities.”

Like Canyon Springs got many of those.

“Yeah, I’ve met her.” Over Paris’s shoulder he could see Macy heading toward the church, Don’s two grade school-aged grandchildren hopping along beside her and chatting excitedly. They wouldn’t be readers of her blog, but apparently someone had conveyed that she wasn’t your average church service visitor.

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.

He’d also hoped Sandi could steer him in the right direction to learn something of his granddad’s early years in Canyon Springs. Until now, he’d never given more than a fleeting thought to how little he knew of his grandfather’s past.

Macy glanced at him uneasily, Jake’s indecision clearly getting on her nerves. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Or in other words, you know I can’t do a thing for you so you may as well be on your way.

He’d be better off coming back later. She’d be a distraction, on top of the fact that it was unlikely he’d make much progress if he tried to poke around without Sandi’s assistance. Besides, Macy might hang over his shoulder trying to see what he was doing and he wanted her to know as little about his personal life in Canyon Springs as possible. They were strangers now and he intended to keep it that way.

Then again...

“As a matter of fact, Macy—”

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