“I guess we had more important things to be talking about.”
Or doing. Like kissing. Her cheeks warmed at the memory.
His grip tightened on the back of the chair, and she got the impression he was evaluating the rest of his response. “My grandparents lived here. They were getting up in years and needed a family member close by so they could remain independent.”
That seemed a CliffsNotes version of what would have been a major change in direction. Jake had never been one to make spontaneous decisions. He thought things through from all angles, weighed pros and cons, projected consequences into the future, then acted in accordance—a process that had once upon a time left her out in the cold.
“So you have roots here. That explains a lot.”
“About what?”
“About why you’re protective of the community.” So paranoid. “Do your grandparents still live here?”
Another hesitation. “Grandma does. Granddad passed away last year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you intend to remain here? I mean after...” When she’d first met him, he’d been a rising star with a big Phoenix legal firm, taking a temporary leave of absence to pursue an advanced degree in dispute resolution from the University of Missouri. It had been intended to bolster his professional standing as well as to lay a strong foundation for his dreamed-of future in public service. But her question hadn’t come out as intended, almost insinuating that he was impatiently biding his time in a tiny town until his surviving relative departed this world and he could get on with his life.
“Canyon Springs is my home now.”
He sounded sure of himself, certain of where he belonged. She envied him that. “It’s quite a contrast to Phoenix,” she said. “Remote. Limited opportunities.”
He shrugged. “There are opportunities enough. To everything a season. It’s a lifestyle I find more than agreeable.”
His unmistakable glowing health testified to that, as did the comfortable-in-his-skin confidence he’d acquired, making him more appealing than ever.
To other women, of course. Not to her.
“Where else can you go for a jog on crisp winter morning,” he continued, “drive a couple of hours south to enjoy lunch on a friend’s sunny patio, then come home and go cross-country skiing under a full moon that evening?”
Outdoor winter sports had never been a pursuit of hers, but it did sound fun, something she’d always wanted to explore. “It’s that sort of contrast that helped me narrow the field in choosing to visit Canyon Springs. Do you camp? Fish? Horseback ride? I think those were enticements your town’s application highlighted.”
Jake laughed and the sound made her heart smile. “Yes, yes and yes, although I don’t have a horse of my own. I borrow one or rent one. There’s a local facility that stables them, and also has summer and autumn hayrides and sleighing in the winter.”
His eyes brightened at the memory. Had he shared such a wintry outing with the woman she’d met at church yesterday—Paris? Her inner eye flashed unbidden to a cold, starry night. The scent of pine. The squeak of a leather harness and the jingle of bells. The brush of sleigh runners skimming through the frosty landscape as knees snuggled together under a wool Navajo blanket, the couple huddled close for warmth....
She turned back to the photographs, shaking off the too-vivid image. She’d been enjoying the conversation with Jake entirely too much, so the reminder of Paris in the picture hadn’t come a moment too soon. He’d always been easy to talk to. Interesting to listen to. That hadn’t changed, and it irked her. But maybe his presence was merely evoking recollections of her carefree college days, not nostalgia for Jake himself.
He moved again to the wall of framed news articles, stopping to study the one about scholarship donors.
“Canyon Springs has its share of interesting characters, doesn’t it?” He again turned toward her, his smile amiable, as if he had all the time in the world to hang out. Was he sticking around and turning on the charm to make her uncomfortable?
She looked pointedly around the museum premises, devoid of late afternoon visitors. “It would be nice to meet a few of those interesting types.”
“You don’t find me an interesting character?” His smile quirked and her heartbeat accelerated. Go away, Jake.
“I’m questioning the wisdom of arriving in Canyon Springs in April. From what everyone tells me, it’s the summer months when the town hums.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have more control over your travel plans, your destinations.” His words held a note of skepticism.
She carefully placed a fragile-looking photo on one of the piles. “It wasn’t entirely my own decision. I’d intended April as a month off, with plans to fill in the blog from the archives. But my sister Nicole, who is my agent and publicist, didn’t think it was a good idea. Nor did my primary sponsor.”
“And you have to do whatever your sister and this sponsor want you to do?”
He’d hit a sore spot, but she managed to keep a sharp response in check. She’d hated giving up her anticipated time off. She hadn’t been home for more than occasional long weekends since last summer. As much as she enjoyed the travel and her work, she had her limits.
“We discussed it and decided to keep April in my travel schedule.”
“I’m more of a homebody.” Jake moved to the door and grasped the knob. “Your lifestyle isn’t one I’d thrive on, but I’m glad you’ve found something that makes you happy, Macy.”
He sounded sincere, his kindhearted tone reminding her of days gone by. It was with a curious heaviness of heart that she watched him lift his hand in farewell and leave. She shook off the unwelcome feeling. Of course she’d found something that made her happy, so why should it matter whether or not it made Jake happy, too?
* * *
At nine o’clock Wednesday morning, Jake closed Macy’s blog post window, pushed away from the laptop on his office desk and reached for his cell phone. He hated to bother his grandma while she was in Phoenix, but none of his research had enlightened him on his grandfather’s years prior to coming to Canyon Springs.
Grandma would know the answers.
“Miss me, Jake?” He could hear the laughter in his grandmother’s voice as it carried over the background ruckus of his two nieces and nephew, ages five, seven and ten. Must be a release day at their school.
“Am I interrupting anything?”
“No, Cameron’s giving his sisters a hard time. Let me refill my coffee cup and step outside where it’s quieter. I’ll leave the door open a crack so I can still keep tabs on them.”
A minute or two later he heard the door off the family room slide open and envisioned his sister and brother-in-law’s ranch-style place. Typical of Sonoran desert homes, it was pale terra cotta stucco landscaped with a few orange trees and prickly pear cactus. Pale pink rhododendrons and fuchsia bougainvillea would be in bloom. It was quite a contrast to the higher elevation a few hours north, where he’d retreated after the debacle with Macy. But even in the midst of a bone-chilling snowstorm, he could honestly say he wouldn’t trade what he had now for the traffic, smog and summertime heat of the Valley of the Sun.
If he eventually returned to Phoenix for professional reasons, he’d still keep his Canyon Springs home. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d told Macy the lifestyle here suited him. Grounded him. How could she tolerate that gypsylike existence?
“Ah, that’s better,” Grandma said. He could envision her settling in at the glass-topped table next to the pool. It would still be cool this time of day. Maybe sixty-five or so.
Seven years Granddad’s junior, she’d