“Not at all. Just curious what made you give up your dream.” And why he was so sad.
“My father got sick.” He kept walking, defensiveness lacing his tone. “I had to step in and run his company.”
“But he’s better now.” Shut up, Taryn. Let the poor man be.
He stopped and glared at her. “My father built a business from the ground up. He poured his heart and soul into making it a success. Provided for us. Gave me, my sister and my mom the kind of life he never had. It means the world to him. You may not understand this, but I can’t let him down.”
Not understand? Boy, was that an understatement. And the reason no one but Blakely knew about David, the baby Taryn had given up for adoption.
She studied the man before her. The set of his jaw, the resigned slump of his shoulders told her this was something he had to do. No matter what it cost him.
“That’s very admirable, Cash. But there’s more to life than just work.”
“Not in my father’s world.” He strode away.
She didn’t know when she’d seen a person so miserable. Like Cash’s only satisfaction in life, his identity, revolved around a job. A job he felt obligated to because he couldn’t face the disapproval of his father. He may not have said the words, but she recognized the signs. And she couldn’t ignore them.
God, Cash needs help. And I’m going to need Yours.
Because even if she had to endure the rest of the weekend with a good-looking, smooth-talking Texan, she was going to show Cash what it was like to truly live.
Chapter Four
Taryn’s first stop Friday morning was the bank. She’d prayed and prayed, asking God to guide her on this decision and she was just as determined this morning, if not more so than she was when she lay down last night.
No doubt about it, All Geared Up was the perfect business for her. After all, Mr. Ramsey had hired her because of her extensive knowledge of outdoor gear. True, she only worked part-time, but she was the one who placed the orders, while he spent most of his time behind the counter. The icing on the cake, though, was the two apartments above the Main Street business. She could live in one and rent out the other.
But to make things happen, she’d need a loan. And she didn’t have a clue what that entailed.
Moving through the double glass doors of Aspen Bank, she stepped onto the plush green carpet and scanned the open lobby. A long counter with several spaces for tellers stood at the back, a table laden with withdrawal and deposit slips was off to one side and a large reception desk sat opposite that.
“Good morning, Taryn.” Patsy Weeks smiled from behind the desk. “What brings you by today?”
“Is Cam available?” Taryn had already spotted loan officer and long-time family friend Cam McAllister in his office.
“I believe so, but let me check.” Patsy picked up the telephone receiver and punched a couple buttons. “Cam? Taryn Purcell would like to see you.”
From the other end of the room, she could hear his booming voice. “Send her in.”
Cam met her at his office door with a ready smile and a handshake. His bald head gleamed under the fluorescent lights. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Well—” Suddenly nervous, she took a deep breath. “I’d like to talk to you about a business loan.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Stepping aside, he motioned her into his office. “Have a seat.”
She eased into the burgundy wing-back chair while he closed the door and settled into the squeaky leather swivel chair behind his desk.
He leaned back, resting his folded hands atop his ample belly. “So, what are we looking at?”
“I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but Buck Ramsey is selling All Geared Up. I’d like to buy it.”
The older man’s brow lifted. “No. I hadn’t heard that.”
“He just told me yesterday morning, so maybe it isn’t common knowledge.”
“Well, don’t you worry. What’s discussed in this office stays in this office.”
Since she hadn’t even talked to her parents yet, that was a relief. “I appreciate that.”
“So, do you know how much Buck is asking?”
“I do.” She gave him the six-figure number. Though she hadn’t asked Mr. Ramsey outright, she’d seen a flyer he’d printed.
“Do you have any collateral?”
“My Jeep. It’s paid for. And I have about seven thousand in savings.”
“I see.” His chair creaked as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the glass-topped desk. “And how about a business plan?”
Anxiety took hold of her once again. “What’s that?”
“All loan programs require a sound business plan to be submitted with the loan application. The plan should include a complete set of projected financial statements, including profit and loss, cash flow and a balance sheet.”
“Oh.” Her stomach churned. She tried not to look as clueless as she felt. Surely she could find something on the internet that would tell her how to put together a successful business plan.
“Do you have any management or business experience, Taryn?”
“Well, I—” Sell yourself, girl. “I work with people every day, Cam. I lead groups on climbing ventures, conduct workshops, and I’ve been at All Geared Up for over three years. I know that business inside and out.”
He steepled his fingers, tapped them together, but didn’t say a word.
This wasn’t looking good.
Finally, he whirled his chair around to the credenza along the wall, opened the drawer and pulled out a large white envelope. Turning, he slid it across the desk. “The loan application is here, along with a checklist of everything we’ll need from you before we can process things.”
Her fingers shook as she reached for it. “Looks like this might take a while.”
“It can be a bit confusing. But if you have any questions, feel free to give me a call.”
“I will.” Hugging the envelope to her chest, she stood. “Thank you for seeing me, Cam. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, Taryn.” He stood and rounded the desk. “It’s always good to see you.” He opened the door, allowing the cooler air from the lobby to filter into the small space. “Tell your folks I said hi.”
“I’ll do that.”
Getting into her Jeep, she breathed a sigh of relief. Step one, complete. She carefully laid the envelope on the passenger seat. With only a million more steps to go. How was she ever going to do this? She didn’t know the first thing about a business plan.
Maybe she could ask Blakely. She had her own business. Of course, she’d inherited it from her grandfather. No business plan involved there.
The image of a handsome Texan popped into her head. Not the first time she’d thought of Cash today. Matter of fact, he’d littered her dreams all night. If anyone knew about business, it was Cash. He’d know exactly what to do.
* * *
Since Gramps barely knew what Wi-Fi was, let alone had it in his house, Cash made himself at home at a table in the backroom of a deli he found on Main Street. He needed to accomplish some work or he’d be completely behind when he got back to the office on Monday.
His first order of business had been that delayed shipment to Wiseman’s. Turned out a big snowstorm in the northeastern part of the country had shut down roads, temporarily halting aluminum shipments, which, in turn, had slowed production.
After talking things over with his father, Cash phoned the distributor, explained the situation and offered a partial shipment. Wiseman’s was happy, his father was happy, and that meant Cash was happy. Rubbing the back of his neck, he eyed the snow-covered peaks beyond the windows. Well, he was at least satisfied.
He took a sip of his coffee and perused Coble
Trailers’ latest sales figures. Better than he expected. With their new manufacturing facility, they were the largest supplier in the region. Before long, they’d be ready to go national.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Despite hitting a somewhat sour note during their walk last night, he couldn’t help smiling when he saw Taryn staring down at him. Although, she didn’t look nearly as happy to see him.
“Just getting a little work done.”
“Did you accomplish anything?” Fists dug into her hips, she looked madder’n an old wet hen.
“A little. Yes.”
“Good.” She turned the laptop to face her, made a couple of clicks and closed the lid.
“What are you doing?”
She tucked the laptop under her arm. “Teaching you how to have fun.”
With determined steps, she crossed the worn wooden floor, past the glass case filled with pastries and out the door. He shoved aside his mounting irritation and followed her outside.
She opened the door of a silver Jeep. “Hop in.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not if you want to see your laptop again.” She smiled at him.
Like he couldn’t get it back if he wanted to. Strange thing was, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to.
The midmorning sun emerged from a cloud, chasing the chill away as he climbed into the passenger seat. “What now?”
“Hang on and enjoy the ride.” She pulled out onto Main Street and made a quick U-turn.
“How did you know where to find me?” He eyed the hot springs pool as they headed north.
“Your grandfather. Which reminds me, how dare you leave him to go work? You only have a couple of days in town. Couldn’t you at least devote your time to him?”
“Then why are you taking me in the opposite direction?”
“I have your grandfather’s blessing. But he wants pictures.”
“Pictures?” He jerked a look at her now. “Just where exactly are you taking me?”
Past Rotary Park, she turned off toward Lake Lenore and the Bachelor Syracuse, an old mine that now did tours, taking people inside the mountain and explaining what it was like to be a miner. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
The need to reprimand her taunting evaporated. On the contrary, he found her playfulness endearing.
He remained quiet while she maneuvered the narrow, tree-lined road, admiring the red sandstone formations in the distance. A fair amount of snow clung to the mountaintops and crevices. Nothing to write home about. Then he spotted the slab of ice that cascaded down the face of one of them.
He swallowed hard as they drew closer. His palms grew sweaty. “What are we doing?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I’m not joking, Taryn.” He couldn’t hide the nervousness in his voice.
“Don’t you trust me?” She brought the vehicle to a stop and looked at him.
Okay, maybe she didn’t expect him to climb. Maybe she just wanted to show him what it was all about.
His gaze traveled up the frozen runoff. “Looks like that’s my only option.”
She exited the Jeep and he met her at the back of the vehicle. “I assume you’re wearing comfortable clothes?”
He eyed his jeans and flannel shirt beneath his jacket. “Yes.”
“Good.” She opened the back gate and handed him a pair of pants and a fleece hoodie. “Amanda let me raid Randy’s climbing gear. Since you two are about the same size, they should fit.”
“Climbing gear?”
Lifting a brow, she sent him a look that told him questions were off-limits.
He returned to the front seat, dropped his cowboy boots in the snow and tugged on the insulated pants.
“You’ll want these.” She shoved a pair of heavy-duty hiking boots at him. “Let me know if they don’t fit. I brought three different sizes.”
Did she really expect him to climb?
He donned the first pair of boots without trouble, as well as the jacket, then tugged on the gloves and knit hat she also provided.
“Mr. Coble, you look mahvelous.” Her smile of approval lifted his spirits. Still...
She held out a belt of some sort. “Now, shimmy into this harness—”
“Taryn, come on. You don’t really expect me to ice climb, do you?”
Her smile only widened. “Yeah, I do.”
“But, I—”
“Have a bad knee, I know. But that was a long time ago. And, according to my doctor friend, the only thing that limits you—” she strolled closer, determination sparkling in those icy eyes “—is you.”
A physical blow couldn’t have packed a bigger punch. Taryn was right and he knew it. His knee had made it easier to stay away from Ouray. Away from the mountains that begged to be climbed, away from the adventures waiting to be uncovered, away from the ice climbing he was once eager to try. All the things he longed to do on a regular basis but couldn’t because he was stuck in Dallas.
She didn’t back away. And the way she looked up at him...it made him feel as if he could do anything.
“What do you say?” She nodded her purple-beanie-covered head in the direction of the ice. “Shall we give it a try?”
In no time, he was harnessed, cramponed, helmeted and following an equally attired Taryn through the snow, up a narrow creek bed toward the icefall. Truth be told, in that moment, he probably would have followed her just about anywhere. Her gentle coaxing was hard to resist.
The occasional silvery-white cloud drifted overhead, obscuring the sun.
“Couldn’t we have just gone to the ice park?”
“Nope.” She pressed on.
“Why not?”
“I was afraid you’d try to escape.”
By the time they reached the base of the slab, he was sweating. He eyed the stiff expanse of white towering over them. It wasn’t nearly as smooth as he expected. More rippled, even lumpy in some spots.
Taryn dropped her backpack and the coil of rope she’d looped across her torso. “I’m going to have you wait here while I put in a few anchors. But first I want to show you a little technique so you can practice while I’m gone.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be bored.”
Her grin only added to his anxiety. “Don’t worry. You won’t be.”
She explained proper tool placement. How a single sure swing was better than chopping at the ice. “If you swing your tool too hard, your arms will tire quickly. We’re not chopping down a tree.”
“As for crampon technique...” She directed her attention to the spikes that’d been clamped onto the bottoms of their boots. “You not only want to engage the front teeth, but the second row as well. To do this, you have to drop your heels.” She demonstrated. “It’s tough on the calves, but I think you can handle it.”
He did his best to duplicate the maneuver.
“Good. Just be sure to keep those heels low. Now, let’s see you swing your tool.”
“Align the shoulder, wrist and tool,” he repeated then swung.
“Excellent.” She rubbed a gloved finger over an indentation in the ice. “Look for depressions in the ice. They’re stronger than bulges.”
“Got it.” At least he hoped so.
“Do you have any questions?”
“When can I get started?”
That earned him her brightest smile yet.
She stepped up to the ice. “Let me set these anchors and we’ll get you going.”
Tilting his head back, he watched her pick her way up the wall of ice. She definitely knew what she was doing. And in a matter of minutes, she was beside him once again, a rope running from her belay device up the steep slope and back to the ground.
She attached the other end of the rope to the device on his harness. “Are you ready?”
“I was born ready.” He stepped up to the ice, not nearly as confident as he wanted Taryn to believe. Took a deep breath.
“Now, when you’re going to start climbing, you say ‘belay on.’”
“Belay on.” He lifted his foot to jam his crampon into the ice—
“On belay.”
“What?” He glanced over his shoulder.
“Means you’re good to go.”
“Oh.” Apprehension knotted in his gut as he eyed the slippery slope once again. “You’re sure this will hold me?”
“Yep.”
“If you say so.” He reached both tools over his head. Looked for indentations in the ice. Swung. Perfect. He dug his crampons into the ice and moved a couple steps before moving the first tool. Right hand. Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. He was doing it. He was actually ice climbing.
“Keep those heels down,” Taryn hollered up at him.
He complied, his calves burning.
Right. Left. Right.
Pausing, he glanced down. He’d gone farther than he thought. He was a good thirty feet up. The sun broke through the clouds then, making it difficult to judge where to land his next swing. Too bad he didn’t have his sunglasses. Then again, when he left the house, he’d had no intention of ice climbing.
He let ’er rip, little pieces of ice pelting his face.
Right foot.
Missed.
He tugged harder on the tool, but it wasn’t secure.
Panic coursed through him as it slipped from the ice. His body tensed. He was going to fall.
Next thing he knew, he was swinging gently through the air, thanks to the belay.
“Everything okay up there?”
He struggled to catch his breath. “I think my life just flashed before my eyes.”
“Was it worth watching?”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Parts of it. Maybe.”
Looking up, Taryn snapped a picture. “You might want to fix that.”
Easy for her to say. She lived for the next climb. He lived for...
What did he live for?
Rescuing the Texan's Heart Page 4
