“I can’t risk it, Trey. You can’t either.”
Dix Dixon’s gravelly voice carried clearly through Trey’s cell phone.
“Telling her risks retaliation—that she’ll deliberately tell someone who will tell someone and the next thing you know this promising enterprise goes down the drain because of its connection to me. And you along with it.”
Trey gazed around his new Warehouse office. He didn’t like this situation one bit, but he sure didn’t need another strike against him, that was for sure. “It wasn’t such a big deal before, but now that she’s working for me—”
“She’s what?”
“Yeah, I’m in a tight spot here with deadlines. Hired her to fill in when I fired Marilu yesterday. For lying. Now I feel like I’m lying by not telling Kara I’m working with you.”
He’d spent an hour yesterday afternoon purging the files, both paper and electronic, of anything having to do with her father. Hated it. Felt like deception. But he hadn’t been able to get ahold of Dix until this morning.
“You’re not lying. You’re keeping a promise, Trey. That’s all. Believe me, telling that little gal will only upset her. She hasn’t said much more than two words to me since she was thirteen. If this business means anything to you, keep my involvement under your hat.”
“I don’t know….” Trey ran a hand through his hair. He understood Dix’s predicament. Trying to make good on investments gone bad years ago. Wanting to clean up his own reputation in the community. But surely he could trust his own daughter, couldn’t he?
He heard a knock at the door. Light. Possibly feminine.
“Gotta go, Dix. I think she’s here.”
She shouldn’t have agreed to it. She should have sent Roxanne to fill in instead, even if it meant paying her triple-time. But she hadn’t thought fast enough. Had given in to the onslaught of guilt that plowed into her when he’d said he’d fired Marilu.
For lying to him.
She’d almost knocked a jar of candy to the floor when he’d uttered those words. Recovered just enough to pretend to rearrange the glass canisters. Couldn’t bear to look up at him.
Why’d he have to keep being so nice to her? Helping out at the Warehouse. Even swinging by Mom’s place this morning to shovel the driveway and sidewalks of a few inches of fresh snow so she wouldn’t have to do it. Mom was thrilled.
Now here she sat in front of a flat-screen computer on Tuesday afternoon, typing away while Trey sat on the sofa, paperwork spread out before him on the coffee table. His afternoon meeting in Show Low had been canceled but, true to his word, he didn’t micromanage. Not much anyway.
At least not once he figured out she could find her way around his word processing software and the spreadsheets and database. He’d finally settled down to review bids, Rowdy at his feet. Still seemed antsy, though. From the corner of her eye she sensed restless movement. Shifting. Heard the rustle of papers.
Knew he was looking at her. Again.
He cleared his throat. “So how are things going in the big city, Kara?”
She paused, fingers poised above the keyboard as she struggled to bring to mind Garson Design. Seven weeks she’d been gone now. It seemed fuzzy, light-years away. “Love it there. It would be perfect if I could just stay in Chicago long enough to land that promotion.”
He gave a low whistle. “Promotion, huh?”
She placed her hands in her lap and turned to face him. “Not to a lead designer or anything of that magnitude. I’m still on the beginner rung. But it will be my first promotion. A step up. An increase in responsibility. Maybe in salary.”
“Glad to hear they’re treating you right.” He scratched the late-afternoon stubble along his jaw as though deep in thought. “So you have what—like a condo or something back there?”
Her inner eye flew to the cramped, two-bedroom high-rise apartment she split with three roommates. “I’m not home that much, so I share a place with friends.”
“Coworkers? Interior designers, too?”
“Actually, no. Just friends.”
Sort of. She didn’t intend to tell him she’d landed her living quarters through a rental agency. Other single women, total strangers, looking for someone to foot a quarter of the sky-high rent. Not exactly home sweet home, but at least it wasn’t too awfully far from the design studio. Unfortunately, there had been talk of disbanding when the lease was up at the end of March, so she might soon be beating the bushes for another housing option.
“Guess I don’t need to ask if your heart’s still set on going back.”
She smiled at him, shoving away the memory of Bryce’s embarrassing comment about a possible involvement with Trey making her reconsider. “Everybody keeps asking me that, like I’m going to change my mind. But there’s an energy there. A vitality. Something new and exciting always happening.”
“I get the feeling you don’t feel that ‘energy’ when you come back to Canyon Springs.”
She pursed her lips in thought. How honest could she be with him? “This is a sleepy little place where everything always stays the same. Each time I enter the city limits, it’s like the world grows smaller. Moves in slow motion.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” He leaned back on the sofa, studying her with a lazy smile. “That’s why tourists come here. Pay good money for it, too.”
She hooted. “Too much in my opinion.”
“Maybe. But they dream about cutting their ties to the rat race and settling down in a town like this. The forest surroundings. Rustic atmosphere. Peace and quiet. The friendly faces of people who know you and call you by name.”
She laughed again. “That is precisely what drives me nuts. Makes me claustrophobic. Everybody knowing me, knowing my business even before I do.”
“Seems kind of reassuring to me. Like people care. You forget, I moved all over the West while growing up. New faces, new places. Never in one place long enough to call it home. Same thing on the rodeo circuit.”
She studied him, stretched out on the sofa. “So you see the same thing in Canyon Springs that the seasonal visitors see?”
“I see real people. People who aren’t cookie cutters of each other. People who take the time to relate on a personal level. Make an effort to get along.” His smile warmed her more than it should have, and her heart gave an unexpected flutter. “Folks who are willing to help out when the occasion arises. Aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty with what life deals out to them. People who aren’t perfect and cut others some slack.”
“Kind of idealistic, don’t you think?” she teased.
“I’ve recently been informed by a former local,” he said, his own smile tugging, “that my vision of Canyon Springs is a myth.”
“But you’re not buying that, are you?”
“Seems to me that most people can be about as happy as they make up their minds to be, no matter where they live.”
With a shrug she maneuvered away from his pointed comment. She was happy, wasn’t she? Just happier when she wasn’t in Canyon Springs. She stood and moved to the filing cabinet. “So you’re giving up rodeoing like Meg says?”
He twirled his pen with his fingers. “Didn’t have a choice. Not once that bull all but pried my kneecap off on the side of a chute a year and a half ago.”
She cringed. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch just about says it all.” He chuckled and slapped his leg. “Gate was as wide open as a Kansas prairie, but he just kept ramming my leg into it again and again. So mad at having me on his back he couldn’t even see the way out.”
“I’m sorry.” He’d fallen in love with horses, ranches and rodeo as a kid, back when his folks were filling in at a church outside Tucson. It might not be a way of life that held any attraction for her—or her mom—after her dad left, but it had meant the world to Trey. She remembered that much from their high school years. Years she’d tried in vain to push out of her memory.
His smile broadened. “But you know, it all works out. You don’t see a lot of old bull and bronc riders around. So it’s not like I thought rodeo was something I’d be doing until I qualified for Social Security. It was good while it lasted.”
“But it has to be disappointing. To give up a dream. I know how I’d feel if I had to give up my life at Garson Design.”
He held her gaze for a thoughtful moment. “I didn’t like it back then, but my folks made me promise to finish college before I hit the circuit. I felt like I owed them after all they went through with me. Here in town, you know?”
How could she forget?
“Anyway,” he continued, “I rodeoed on the side until I got a business degree, then full-time. Now I’ve come back full circle. Canyon Springs.”
“Managing Duffy’s place.”
“When he died, his wife put the property on the market. A dozen guys who’d rodeoed with Duff back in the good old days pooled their resources with a few others to buy it. They didn’t have anyone to bring it up to speed, though, until they heard I’d been put out of commission.”
“So now here you are.”
“Man’s gotta eat.” Lines crinkled around his eyes. “Besides, once I clear my name—”
That again.
“Or rather,” he corrected himself, “after God clears my name—it will be pretty sweet. Settling down near family. Watching my nieces grow up.”
Courting some hometown honey?
“Plan to buy property, too,” he added. “You may remember I always wanted to train quarter horses.”
He’d totally bought into the small-town fairy tale. As much as he hated people lying to him, why’d he keep lying to himself?
“You think this town,” she warned as gently as she could, “will embrace you even if God flushes out the bad guy?”
A spark of hurt flashed through his eyes. “I’d like to think so. You don’t give people here enough credit, Kara.”
Why was he so willing to forgive what Canyon Springs had done to him? She sure wasn’t that generous. “I guess I just have to wonder what makes a tumbleweed kind of guy think he can be happy in a place like this. My dad sure couldn’t. Not even after his big talk about being a family man. What a joke.”
Inwardly Kara cringed. Why’d she say that? It sounded so harsh. Bitter.
His forehead creased. “Every man isn’t like your father, Kara. And even a good man can make mistakes.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Knock knock.” The booming, cheerful words came from the landing at the top of the stairs, accompanied by a door-rattling series of fist pounds.
Irritated at the interruption, Kara watched the knob turn, the door open and Trey’s brother peep in. His gaze swept the room, then focused on her with a gleam of interested surprise. He stepped inside, a ponytailed Mary balanced on a hip and a pink backpack clutched in his free hand.
“Sorry to interrupt, bro. Didn’t know you had company.” His gaze lingered on her again, eyes twinkling. Jason had always been full of teasing humor, but right now wasn’t a good time. Maybe he read it in her expression, for he deposited Mary on the floor and turned to Trey, motioning to the papers scattered across the coffee table. “Is that paperwork on a place you’ve been looking at?”
“No, not that far along yet.” Trey sat up and tossed his pen to the table. “Had to let Marilu go yesterday. Kara’s filling in so I can make a deadline.”
Jason nodded approval in her direction, eyes dancing once again. “Well, aren’t you an answered prayer?”
She forced a smile and waved a hand toward the computer. “If I can meet the deadline.”
“So what can we do for you?” Trey drew his brother’s attention once more.
“Could I drop off Mary for an hour? Maybe ninety minutes?” He looked hopefully from Trey to her, then back to his brother. “Reyna’s got her hands full with Missy. She’s definitely come down with something. Running a fever now. But I have a counseling session I can’t miss.”
“Reyna’s mom—”
“Is still out of town. Her sisters are at work. Or nursing sick ones of their own. Wouldn’t want Mary to be exposed.”
Trey sat back, gazing at the paperwork. “I don’t know—”
“I wouldn’t ask if I had an alternative. You know that.”
Trey rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure. Leave her here.”
“Thanks. I—”
“Yeah, I know. You owe me. Another one. Running up quite the tab aren’t you, Jas?”
“Right.” Jason grinned, then crouched to help Mary out of her coat and boots. In a flash he pulled bunny-faced and cottontailed house slippers from her backpack and snugged them onto her feet. Looked like he’d come to town kid-equipped. And if Kara wasn’t mistaken, the pink T-shirt jammies she’d given Mary poked out of the bag as well. It looked as if Uncle Trey was being set up for a sleepover.
As much as he claimed he wanted to settle down in Canyon Springs, how long would it be before the charm of that wore off? Before it got old. Irritating. Before he’d had enough of pseudo-daddy duty, saddled up and rode out of town again.
Just like her dad.
No big surprise, once her daddy was out the door Mary beelined for Kara who’d again seated herself at the computer. It was like the kid was magnetized or something. Couldn’t say he blamed her. Kara was a mighty appealing woman. At times.
He watched Kara’s expression soften as she turned her head so his niece could pat her silky ponytail. Listened as she oohed and aahed over Mary’s beribboned hair as well. Heard Mary giggle, then watched her crawl into Kara’s lap. Looked like work was on hold until Mary got her first keyboarding lesson.
“Mary. M-A-R-Y,” Kara’s sweet, soft voice spelled out for the youngster as she guided a little finger to each letter.
He ran a hand through his hair. So Kara didn’t think the townspeople would find it in their hearts to accept him even if he proved his innocence.
“Missy. M-I-S-S-Y.”
But wasn’t it more likely that they’d be grateful? More than happy to have a bad apple weeded out, to welcome another solid citizen into the community?
“Kara. K-A-R-A.”
He wasn’t buying her pessimistic take on it. No doubt in his mind God had brought him back to town. Even if God was taking his own sweet time about it, he was here to resolve unfinished business, to prove himself innocent of wrongdoing. What other reason could there be?
He studied the gentle curve of Kara’s cheek. The silken swing of her red-gold hair caught up in a sea-green satin rib bon. The soft, smiling bow of her lips… He swallowed, remembering how sweet they’d tasted that night long ago.
No, he didn’t fear the community’s reaction when he cleared his name. Not even if the culprit was the mayor himself. They’d come around. Eventually. No, it was the other thing she’d said that gut-kicked him. When she spoke the word that still rang in his ears. That exposed his insecurity. Voiced his secret doubts.
Tumbleweed.
She’d without reservation pegged him as a drifter. A transient. A rolling stone. Didn’t believe him inherently capable of putting down roots. Was openly skeptical that he could make a commitment to a community.
And to a woman as well?
Was her thinking all tangled up because of her folks’ divorce? Or could the thing he most feared about himself be true? Was blatantly clear to others?
“Trey. T-R-E-Y.”
His ears barely registered the feminine voices. Maybe Kara was right. His ex-girlfriend had said the same thing. T-U-M-B-L-E-W-E-E-D.
A laughing Mary spun in Kara’s lap and pointed at him. “That’s you, Uncle Trey!”