Читать книгу High Country Hearts - Glynna Kaye - Страница 11

“Oh, for cryin’—” Scowling, the cowboy-hatted man moved to Olivia’s side of the vehicle to take a closer look at the bundle in her arms. “What is it this time?”

Cradling the pooch, she addressed the man she assumed was Singing Rock’s assistant manager. “Not sure. He’s got a bad cut. Maybe internal injuries. Or broken bones.”

Rob drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “So, you comin’?”

“Yeah, yeah.” The man threw his fishing gear in the back and pulled himself into the rear seat. “I need insurance on that pooch.”

“What you need is to keep him on a leash or penned up. Those are the rules.”

“Tell that to Elmo. He makes Houdini look like an amateur. Dug out again in the night.”

The Jeep jerked as Rob put it in gear, then continued down the narrow, tree-lined road. The other man maneuvered around in the back, getting himself situated before turning his attention to Olivia. He cast her a lopsided, engaging grin. “Rob didn’t tell me he had a canine paramedic on staff.”

“Olivia, meet Brett Marden, Singing Rock second in command.” Rob eased the vehicle to the edge of the highway, leaning forward to look for approaching traffic. “Brett, meet Olivia Diaz. Paul and Rosa’s daughter.”

“You don’t say?” The sandy-haired man’s eyebrows rose and he whipped off his Western straw in a respectful gesture. His eyes appraised her in an openly appreciative but inoffensive manner. “Good to meet you, Olivia. Mighty good.”

Rob’s brows lowered as he turned onto the highway. Ignoring Brett, he looked over at the pup. “How’s he doing?”

“Still shivering.”

“Lucky dog.” Brett resettled his hat on his head, then gave his pet a gentle pat.

“Lucky?” She glanced from Rob to his assistant. “I got the impression from you guys that he is majorly unlucky.”

“Depends on how you look at it.” Brett squinted against the sunshine pouring through the roofless Jeep. “Porcupine quills are the devil to pull out of a sensitive nose. Skunk odors linger forever. But whatever he’s done to himself this time managed to get an exceptionally beautiful woman fawning over him. So I’d say it evens out.”

Olivia laughed, recognizing a well-practiced flirt. Plenty of fun, but usually not a whole lot of substance.

Rob’s forehead creased. Lips tightened. What was his problem? Did he think she wasn’t smart enough to spot Brett’s over-the-top flattery?

As their speed picked up, wind whipped through the open Jeep and Olivia wished she’d put her hair in a ponytail and donned sunglasses. Ducking her head, she attempted to turn from the cool morning blast, but without success. Long, whiplike strands of hair slapped mercilessly at her eyes and mouth. She squinted, helpless with her hands occupied by the pup. Then from behind, a hand scooped back her unruly mane, holding it in a secure grip.

“Thanks.” She cast Brett a grateful smile and received a dimpled one in return.

He winked. “Anytime.”

Rob’s ever-present frown deepened as he turned off the highway and onto the road leading into town. What was up with him? Like it would kill him to smile once in a while.

The Vegas incident had apparently done a number on him. But if he couldn’t loosen up any more than he had thus far—except for that too-short interlude yesterday morning—he’d never make a go of Singing Rock management.

If there was anything she knew about what it took for her folks to run the enterprise successfully, it was that hospitality and flexibility were the keys. Adapting at a moment’s notice to whatever came your way. Exuding warmth, acceptance and generosity even when you’d rather slam the door in someone’s face. Finding a way to accommodate even the most difficult personalities without showing so much as a hint of annoyance.

Rob flunked that one this morning.

For whatever reason, Brett annoyed him.

Rob glanced at his watch as Olivia and his assistant manager finally reboarded the Jeep—without Elmo. Eleven o’clock. What had taken them so long? After dropping off the pooch, he’d returned to Singing Rock until Olivia called for a pick-up. But from the looks of it, he should have stuck around to chaperone. The pair seemed too cozy, with Brett’s arm draped familiarly around Olivia’s shoulder when they’d exited the vet’s office. Maybe he should warn her. Clue her in to steer clear of the flirtatious ladies’ man. After all, she had been his “little sis in Christ” at NAU. Which obligated him to look out for her best interests—and Brett Marden wasn’t one of them.

Why were ladies always such suckers for cowboys? Not sure what the attraction was. Must be the hat. Whatever was up between them, though, it was none of his business. She could make her own decisions. She was a grown woman now. Nobody with two eyes in his head could argue with that. Least of all him.

“How’s the pup?” Ignoring his assistant, he directed the question to Olivia as she settled her pretty self beside him. Buckled her seat belt. She must have cleaned up at the vet’s, as evidence of Elmo’s bloody adventure had vanished from her hands and forearms. He’d taken time back at his apartment to clean up, as well. Changed shirts.

“All sewn up. No broken bones. Appear to be no internal injuries. Severe bruising of his hip. But Dr. Sikeston wants to keep him overnight.”

“For observation,” Brett confirmed.