Wish You Were Here
an excerpt

Freya Daly swatted at a fly buzzing by her head as her left stiletto tottered on the gravel under her feet. Dig that, she thought. Hell has a waiting room. Without moving her eyes away from the ancient log cabin in front of her, she pulled her cellphone out of her purse and hit speed dial.
"I’m here," she said when her father answered.
"Good." She could hear papers shuffling on his desk, and then the tell-tale rat-a-tat-tat of the keyboard as Richard Daly multi-tasked. "Tell me about it."
She glanced around. "It's a campground. Trees, dirt, cabins. The lady who checked me in told me they don’t have wireless internet access. Welcome to Deer Crap, Idaho."
"Deer Creek," he corrected quickly.
"Yeah, I know." Freya put a hand to her forehead. It wasn't that her father didn't have a sense of humor. It just didn't serve a practical purpose, so he rarely used it.
"I expect your full report by Tuesday."
"Tuesday?" she said. "Dad, you can have my full report now. Brody Lake Campground and RV Park is six acres of trees and dirt and cabins in the middle of a town with no viable tourist trade, no real industry, and no identifiable nightlife. There’s nothing here. There’s no reason to buy this property, and I advised you against it before you even sent me out here. So, once again for those in the back, don’t buy this place. It’s a money pit. I’ll be on the next plane—"
"Tuesday," he said, and hung up. Freya stared at the phone in her hand, then gently flipped it shut and put it back in her purse. She swallowed and closed her eyes tight against the tears waiting behind them, like an invading army ready to strike at any time. It wasn’t her father that was upsetting her, she knew that. In fact, nothing was upsetting her. She was not upset; she was Freya Daly, and Freya Daly didn't get upset.
Something was just wrong with her eyes, that’s all.
"There we go," she said as the heat behind her eyes simmered down. "That’s it. Totally under control."
She squared her shoulders and picked up her leather Louis Vuitton suitcase - no way was she dragging that over Idaho dirt. Time to get to work. She walked carefully up the gravel path to the wooden steps of her cabin and tried to imagine what they could possibly do with this place. The name of the campground implied a lake; maybe they could stock it with trout, develop the place into a fishing lodge or something. She set her suitcase down on the porch, leaned against the railing, and stared out into the wooded landscape. In her mind, things started to develop. A lodge. An escape for the tired executive looking to get away. They’d have to tear down that dingy little snack shack/rental office, replace it with a log cabin lodge, complete with fireplace and bar. Maybe a gym and a steam room. The cabins were too old, too quaint; they’d have to go as well, replaced with larger—
"Don’t move." The voice came from behind her, scaring the shit out of her, so she screamed and twirled around, immediately losing her balance on her stilettos and slamming backward into the railing. She heard a crack, felt the world whoosh around her, and then suddenly, she was dangling in mid-air. She looked up to see a man with dirty blonde hair, two-day stubble and sharp blue eyes hovering over her, one hand braced against the support post that held up the overhang, and the other hand fisted around the fabric of her jacket, which was now tight around her waist. Meanwhile, there Freya dangled, her toes barely holding onto the edge of the porch as her body leaned back at a 45-degree angle.
"Shit," she said.
"Don’t move," he said again. She felt a quick yank at her midsection and then she was flying up onto the safety of the porch where she bounced off the cabin and into an Adirondack chair, one leg dangling over the side, her skirt hiked up almost to There.
"Sorry," he said, "You okay?"
Freya grunted and pulled her leg in, smoothing her skirt down. "Super. Thanks."
"I was coming by to fix the railing, but I decided to check the tub faucet – it leaks a little. I would have put you in another cabin, but this is the best one we've got at the moment. Well, it was until..." He glanced down over the side of the porch at the broken pieces of railing and shook his head. "Damn. That was going to be an easy fix."