Glynna Kaye - A Canyon Springs Courtship

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.”