“Come again?”
“Ecotourism.”
When Dave continued to stare slack-jawed at him, Kyle began to pace. “A horse trek around the coast, followed by swimming, snorkeling, or kayaking off their beach. A provided picnic lunch, then the tour continues up here”—Kyle waved his arms around to encompass the hives—“where you give them a beekeeping 101 informative spiel, before we lead them to the plant where they get a glimpse of the rest of the process, taste test the product, and then we set them loose in the newly refurbished shop.”
“When you say we, you’re specifically talking about…” Dave lifted an eyebrow.
That’s where it got sticky. “Initially, me. Along with Matt since he’s got the least responsibility over summer. And Tui.”
“Tui.” There was a world of doubt in Dave’s tone. “I don’t know how long that’d last. She’s a flight risk. Never seems to hang around long.”
“How would you know?”
An edge in Kyle’s voice must’ve triggered Dave’s attention because his eyes narrowed with speculation. “This is Bounty Bay. People talk.”
Kyle’s gut twisted though it wasn’t really a shock revelation. Tui was well named. Free as a bird. Pity the man who ever thought he could cage her.
“I’m talking initially. Once we test the idea as viable, the Ngatas can enlist Pete to continue with the tours their end if he’s willing, and Matt our end once I go back to Auckland. If Pete declines, we can negotiate a third party to take over. What do you think?”
“I think the Ngatas have been bleeding money since before Pete’s car accident,” Dave said, “and now he’s over a barrel with his mobility issues. He can’t continue relying on the goodwill of others for much longer. It’s not sustainable, and he knows it. It’s a bitter pill for a farmer to swallow.”
Once when Griff had badly sprained his ankle, which required a cast and crutches, he’d been even more unbearable than his usual unbearable self. He’d lasted three days without riding before their mum had caved and cut the “blasted, goddamned cast” off. Being out of action for months like Pete would’ve driven Griff to make a deal with the devil.
“But if we come at it from the right angle,” Kyle said, “he might agree. And a nice fat buffer of cash with little outlay to get him through a rough patch.”
“And the hives on his land?”
“Put a pin in it for now and you can relook at it at the end of the season—depending on how the tour idea pans out.” Kyle blew out a breath. “I need to think about it some more, do some research. But do I have your support?”
Dave’s gaze remained steady on his. “I’ve always had your back. It’s not me you’ll have to convince.”
“Mum and Eric.” He didn’t need to pose it as a question; they both knew who the biggest stumbling blocks would be. “Yeah. Eric could be a problem.”
“Hothead is his middle name. You do your research, leave Mum and Eric to me. He’ll come around once he sees something in it for him, and it’d be really good for Mum. She needs…something. Something to keep her busy and give her purpose again. Before Dad and Uncle Ross”—Dave folded his arms, gaze once again scanning the horizon of pink and white blossoms—“before all that, remember how much she loved the little workshop they made her for her honey cosmetics? She hasn’t touched all that stuff for years but it’s still all sitting there packed away in boxes.”
“Lip balm and hand cream and some weird concoctions that smelled like lavender and cat pee.”
“That’s it.” Dave chuckled. “And, man, could she sell that stuff to anyone who walked through the shop doors. They’d come in wanting to buy honey and leave with a full skin care regimen. She loved it.”
A stab of guilt arrowed through Kyle’s rib cage. He could have done more over the years to try and convince his mother to continue with her passion for creating her home-grown beauty products. Dave was right, she needed a purpose again, and this tour could breathe life into that purpose.
He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Then we’ll figure out a way to make it happen.”
And figure out a way to get the Ngata family on board.
Tui sat at Kauri Whare’s rarely used boardroom table and waited, one stiletto heel jittering on the floor. Fortunately, the boardroom was carpeted, so Sam sitting across from her wouldn’t hear it drumming out the rhythm of her nerves. Sam slouched in the chair, sighing every so often, as if agreeing to a meeting with Kyle and David Griffin was the most boring thing to happen to him that week. Tui, on the other hand, was moments away from leaping to her feet and fleeing the room.
“Quit it, Tu,” Sam said.
“What? I’m not doing anything.” Jitter-jitter-jitter, tap-tap-tap.
Her ears strained toward the partially closed boardroom door. Out in the hallway, she heard Isaac’s deep voice moving closer. His tone was set to chilled professionalism, the same one he used when dealing with aggressive media representatives in his rugby career.
“You’re doing that drumming thing with your foot. I can feel the vibration under the table.” Sam rose out of his slouch. One moment the bohemian artist, the next every bit as professional as their older brother. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
“I’m not nervous.” Jitter-jitter-jitter, tap-tap-tap.
She set a palm on her pantsuit-covered knee and applied pressure, stilling her wayward foot.
“’Course you’re not, because there is no need for you to be. Isaac and I will handle the Griffins.” Sam’s default smiley expression hardened, his gaze flat-lining on the door as it swung open.
Tui recognized the stocky man who walked through first as David. Like Eric and their younger brother, Matt, she’d seen him around town over the years. He hadn’t changed much, except for a receding hairline and a ruddiness to his face which suggested long hours in the sun.
She rose as David first offered a hand to Sam and then herself. His palm was damp against her skin and she had to fight the urge to wipe her fingers down her pants. David’s bulk blocked her view of the doorway, so she missed Kyle’s entrance, only catching a peripheral view of him as he, too, shook Sam’s hand. Then he was in front of her, hand extended, gaze locked on hers with an intensity that had her ankle bones jellifying.
Today the rough cowboy was gone, and instead, the smooth city architect was in his place. Architect Kyle wore slim-fitting suit pants and a button-down shirt that just had to be tailor made going by the perfect way it fit his body. She scented his now familiar cologne like a bloodhound and had to refrain from baying at the moon. A slight exaggeration but, man, he smelled good.
“Tui,” he said. “Thanks for agreeing to this meeting.”
As if she would skip it and let her brothers make any decisions on her behalf. “No problem.”
She slid her hand into his, and his fingers closed over hers. One quick pump—and, oh God, pump was the worst word to think of at this moment—and she tugged her hand away. Her palm tingled as if he’d stroked his finger along it, and instinct took over. She scrubbed her hand down her thigh and promptly sat. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so insistent on being at this inexplicable meeting with the Griffins.
Kyle had called Isaac to set it up two days ago, vague about the reason why, only that he had something important to discuss with the three of them. Ever civil, Isaac had agreed. If it’d been Sam who’d picked up the phone, they probably wouldn’t be here. While Isaac had his business face on, Sam bristled with hostility. At least for those who knew him well, it was obvious he was controlling his temper by sheer will alone. He, out of the three Ngata siblings, had the biggest beef with the Griffins. But his easy confidence as he sank back into his chair and stretched out his legs gave nothing away.
Dave and Kyle took the two spare chairs while Isaac positioned himself between her and Sam at the table head. Dave’s widening gaze skipped to Isaac’s bulk as his chair squeaked, possibly worried the former All Black would change his mind about a rational discussion and
tackle him across the table. His ruddy complexion went a shade darker in the cheeks. In other circumstances, Tui would’ve enjoyed watching a Griffin squirm under her brother’s cucumber-cool silent examination, taking a bet on who’d break first. Her money would always be on Isaac, but Kyle was a wild card.
Like his brother, Kyle studied Isaac, but there wasn’t a glimmer of intimidation on his face. He could’ve been in a boardroom anywhere in the world, about to begin a meeting with clients he didn’t care to impress one way or another.
“We’ll keep this brief.”
When Kyle spoke, Tui’s head jerked toward him. She’d been watching him watch her brother from the corner of her eye, the thickening bundle of nerves in her belly anchoring her focal point somewhere in the middle of the boardroom table. She didn’t dare make direct eye contact with him again.
“Appreciate it,” Isaac rumbled. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”
David laced his hands on top of the table. “As you might know, I’ve been managing Griffin’s Honey almost single-handedly for the past four years. We’re making a name for ourselves in the marketplace.”
He spoke in a terse staccato, as if he were bracing himself for objection or demands for proof—whether from her brothers or his, Tui didn’t know.
“Congratulations,” Isaac said dryly. “But Pete’s already told you he’s not interested in having your hives on our land.”
Sam leaned back in his chair, folding his arms comfortably on his stomach. “Bit of a wasted trip, eh?”
David’s fingers clenched, knuckles popping white against his skin as he exchanged a glance with his brother. “That’s not why we’re here.”
Isaac gave Kyle an almost imperceptible nod. “Why are you here? Specifically, you. Haven’t seen you around Bounty Bay in years.”
Kyle’s direct stare would challenge a professional poker player. He remained silent for a moment, then seeming to come to some internal decision, sat forward. “Griff left me the deciding shares in Griffin’s Honey. Apparently he believed I had enough business acumen to improve on the work David and Eric have been overseeing. I’ll be in Bounty Bay for a while longer until some structures have been put into place.”
“What kind of structures?” Isaac asked.
“Other kinds of viable income to support the farm during the off season. We employ a number of seasonal workers from September to the end of summer for honey production, but if we’ve had a lean year previous—like the last couple of years—it’s tight. We need something that could complement and supplement our income.”
Tui had been studying David’s reaction during his brother’s speech. A bright red flush peeked out from under his shirt collar, but not knowing the man, she couldn’t tell whether this was embarrassment or annoyance of Kyle’s admission that the Griffins, too, were struggling. Her gaze zipped to Kyle and a wash of heat spread over her own skin when she found him looking back at her.
“Tui gave me an idea last week at your beach,” he said.
The reaction from her brothers was instantaneous. Isaac and Sam stiffened in their chairs, their heads swiveling toward her Exorcist style. Kind of like the time when she was fourteen and one of her cousins at a family barbecue had ratted her out about kissing a boy her brothers didn’t approve of. Her older brothers hadn’t approved of their little sister kissing any boy, for that matter.
Under the table, her foot started jittering again. Crap. She could feel the room’s testosterone level skyrocketing. “Kyle helped me get some runaway cows back through the gate,” she said. “We talked afterward. Like adults.”
Sam looked at her like talking was synonymous with betrayal. Or maybe torrid affair. And that was one direction she couldn’t let her mind go in with her brothers’ protective instincts clearly engaged. They knew her well enough to see it on her face. She wasn’t a particularly good poker player.
“What day was this?” Sam asked. “Why didn’t you call one of us?”
Driven by four pairs of male eyes skewering her to the spot, her face felt lava hot as the flush transferred from her throat to her cheeks. Definitely because of annoyance, not embarrassment. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. “I can handle three dumb cows.”
“Is that so?” Sam said. “You can handle them, but you still needed this guy”—he flicked a thumb at Kyle—“to swoop in and rescue you.”
“She didn’t need rescuing—” Kyle spoke at the same time as Tui half rose out of her chair saying, “I don’t need rescuing.”
David made a time-out signal with his hands. “Calm down, everyone. Kyle was just being neighborly.”
“Neighborly.” Sam snorted the word out.
Isaac slid her a we’ll talk about this later glance and cleared his throat. “Back to this idea, if we could set aside whether or not my sister is capable of taking care of herself and three escaped beasts, which she is.”
Tui sat, slitting a warning glance at Sam and angling herself toward Kyle with what she hoped was a bland tell me more expression on her face. “Please continue.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up briefly then slid into neutral. “Dave?”
David, who’d carried a tablet in with him, woke up the screen and turned it to face them. On the screen was a stunning shot of their beach with what could only be a photoshopped tour group of people riding horses over it. “The idea Kyle put to us is this: we test out the need for a horse-trek tour from Bounty Bay to your beach and then over our land to the Griffin Honey plant.” David’s gaze zigzagged between Tui and her brothers, his forehead collapsing into frown lines. “A fifty-fifty split of costs and profits, of course,” he said quickly. “But there shouldn’t be any initial outlay.”
“Break this down for us,” Isaac said.
Tui noted that he directed the question at Kyle, not David, as if Isaac had already figured out who was really in charge.
“Someone from your family and someone from mine act as tour guides. We’d initially nominate myself and Matt, who’s an excellent horseman and has volunteered over the years at Riding for the Disabled. He’s patient and good with putting beginners at ease.”
Huh. A Griffin being charitable. Who would’ve thought?
“And from your family,” Kyle continued, “Tui, in the testing stages, and if the idea pans out, your dad could take over. It’s an easy ride around the coast and I’ve heard Pete is, ah, finding the bush tracks difficult.”
“At the moment, yeah,” Isaac said. “He’ll be back to his old self before long.”
Tui’s stomach rolled in a slow loop the loop. Not even the three of them, with their unwavering faith in their father, could guarantee that. And this idea—this crazy idea of Kyle’s that could give Dad hope—she could already see Sam and Isaac dismissing it out of hand.
“Dad does love to talk,” she blurted. “Give him a captive audience and he’ll entertain the hell out of them. He’d be a brilliant tour guide, and he knows a lot about local history and the land.”
“Exactly.” This time the corner twitch of Kyle’s mouth transformed into a smile. “A local character. Once at your beach there could be swimming or kayaking as an option, then lunch. We could find a caterer to provide a transportable picnic-style—”
“Mum can outcook any caterer.” Tui chuckled. “How does fresh rēwana bread and home baking sound?”
“Like a hit,” Kyle said. “After lunch we take the group up to one of the hive groups where Dave will talk about what we do at Griffin’s Honey. Then onto the plant and shop for taste testing and shopping.”
Sam’s nose crinkled. “Tourists are gonna want to see bees? Seriously?”
“Yes. Bees, whale watching, bird sanctuaries, wildlife observations. It’s called ecotourism, Sam.” Tui shifted in her chair to face Isaac. “Kauri Whare could provide transport to and from Bounty Bay hotels, with a tour of the workshop and showrooms on the return trip. Win-win for Griffin’s Honey and Kauri Whare.” The idea of including Kauri Whare—Sam and Isaac’s wood
-turning business which they’d built from nothing and now employed many members of their extended family—had just popped into her head.
But it was a check in the idea’s favor.
Isaac’s face remained completely stoic while Tui’s heart thudded wildly in her chest. This was an opportunity that could take some of the stress and worry from their parents’ plate. Pete and Ariana were the backbone of their whānau, over the years quietly and humbly helping people out with whatever money they could spare, their own savings left short when unforeseen tragedy had struck them.
“Interesting concept,” Isaac said finally. “I’m not sure if Dad’ll go for it, though.”
“Then we don’t tell him yet,” she said.
“Oh yeah, that’s a good call.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t wanna be ya when he finds out. You’re not too old for Ma to get out her wooden spoon.”
Tui leaned over to clip him across the head but Sam laughed, ducking at the last moment so she missed. Her face got hotter as a side-eye at Kyle revealed a ghost of a smile on his lips. She’d forgotten. She wasn’t among people that accepted teasing and physical affection as part of running a successful family business—and she’d just made both her brothers look unprofessional. Unacceptable on her behalf.
She snatched her hand away from Sam, stiffening in her seat. “I just meant that we should let our parents enjoy their time away without worrying them with this. We run a test tour or two, iron out any potential wrinkles, then we’ll be in a better position to show something concrete to convince Dad.”
David, who’d wisely kept his mouth shut up until now, cleared his throat. “The forecast is fine for this weekend. Why don’t we saddle up and run through the proposed route? No obligations, just a ride.”
“Good idea. Tui, are you free?” Kyle asked.
“I’ve got plans with my wife’s friends we can’t cancel,” Isaac answered before Tui could open her mouth. “Sam? What about you?”
Said in a tone that implied Isaac would happily rearrange Sam’s schedule for him so that Sam would glue himself to their little sister’s side. Tui narrowed her eyes at her older brother.
Tame Your Heart: A Small Town Romance (Bounty Bay Book 6) Page 10
