Glynna Kaye - Mountain Country Cowboy

“Gatherings such as...?”

“Corporate retreats. Club getaways. Family celebrations—you know, milestone anniversaries, birthdays, graduations. Reunions. That kind of thing. The forest and wildlife we have in abundance here, along with our cabins, cookouts and trail rides would be a big part of the draw.”

He folded his muscled arms—not that she was noticing.

“I seem to recall there was some of that here when I was a kid.”

“Oh, there was, but this would be a more focused endeavor. Targeting that type of clientele to a greater extent for a more reliable source of income than sporadic group bookings provide.”

He tipped his head thoughtfully. “Guests at the last place I worked had higher standards than dudes used to. Everyone likes to brag that they’ve been roughing it, but there’s not a whole lot of roughing it in reality these days.”

She laughed. “Glamping, you mean?”

That was the latest global trend—“glamorous” camping. Getting off the beaten path in luxury.

“No offense, Rio, but while the Hideaway provides clean, well-cared for accommodations with a homey touch, they don’t exactly fit the definition of luxurious unless you’re visiting from a Third World country.”

Thanks for pointing that out, Mr. Herrera.

“Well, that’s something we’ll be discussing in-depth next week.” She kept her tone deliberately light, determined not to take offense at his critical comment. “We’ll be considering what upgrades or alterations might realistically be required to meet the needs of a slightly different type of guest.”

“You’ve researched this company and asked for a profile of their clients? Have an idea of the caliber of venues the company is currently booking?”

Rio took a steadying breath. Gave him her best smile.

“I’m sure Grady or Luke have either done that or will be doing it soon.” Neither had mentioned it, though. She’d been gone a week, however, and would no doubt be brought up-to-date at Monday night’s weekly business meeting—of which Cash would now be a part. “But we have time on our side. The company’s been candid with us that they’re evaluating numerous potential sites in the West and Southwest this summer. We’re one of many. They ballparked the Hideaway visit for late July. Maybe not until August.”

“But don’t you think—”

“Dad!”

Relieved at the interruption, she turned to where a wide-eyed Joey was still sitting on the bale of straw, now surrounded by three attentive barn cats.

“I think they want to eat me, Dad.”

Did the giggle from the too-solemn boy warm his father’s heart as much as it did hers?

She handed the clipboard to Cash, then trotted the length of the wide passage between the stalls. When she reached Joey, she swiftly scooped up a yellow tabby. “These fur balls don’t want to eat you. They’re waiting for you to give them a treat.”

Extending her arm behind him to lift the lid on a small plastic box attached to the wall, she pulled out a handful of kitty treats. She gave one to Joey, who tentatively held it out to the cat in her arms. It made short work of the treat, crunching happily away. The other two jumped atop the bale with the boy.

He smiled again. “They all want some.”

As the cat in her arms leaped to the floor, she sensed Cash coming up behind her and held out a treat to him. But when he shook his head, she handed the remaining goodies to Joey.

“Look, Rio,” Cash said, his voice low as he pulled her aside. “I’m sorry if I came across as disparaging of the Hideaway. That wasn’t my intention. It’s just that I’ve spent the past several years catching a glimpse of the lifestyles of the rich and not-so-famous, and it’s been an eye-opener.”

“I imagine so.” Obviously he didn’t think the Hideaway could meet those lofty expectations.

“I do have ideas, though,” he continued with a nod to her clipboard still in his hands, “that may be in keeping with the integrity and history of the place.”

Cash hadn’t been on the premises twenty-four hours and he already had ideas?

Annoyed at his presumptuousness, she tried to ease her clipboard from his fingers. They had business to attend to.

But he didn’t relinquish it.

She gave it a tug. He held fast.

Looking into his amused eyes—he’d no doubt noticed the spark of irritation in hers—she fought back the urge to jerk it out of his hands. “May I have my clipboard, please?”

“You may.” He leaned in slightly. “But only if you forgive me for sharing my opinions. I get the feeling that, in spite of the future role I’ll be playing here, you think I’m stepping out of bounds—Princess.”

Heartbeat sprinting, to her irritation she couldn’t draw her gaze from his. Out of bounds. That’s definitely where he’d stepped. “I—”

“So it’s not a vicious rumor,” a man’s voice boomed from the open doorway.

Cash immediately relinquished the clipboard and stepped away from her as the man approached. Now as big and burly as his father, Eliot Greer was dressed in work clothes and boots, his unruly blond hair shower-damp. He was a handsome man several years younger than Cash, who was at the moment looking at Eliot blankly, as though trying to place him.

But why was her face warming as if the new arrival had caught her in a compromising situation with their new hire?

“You remember Eliot Greer,” she said somewhat breathlessly, “don’t you, Cash?”

“Oh, yeah.” Eliot chuckled, but didn’t sound amused. “He remembers me.”

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