Mrs. Bradshaw shook her head, her steel-wool curls bouncing with the motion and her eyes sparkling with the fire of conviction. “Not only does the store need to be open year-round, but it needs to be done right. That means competent owners who are knowledgeable, friendly, and won’t go belly-up before I do. Owen and I didn’t work our entire lives to see the shop fail now.”
Her impassioned speech held everyone hostage for a moment, until Martin braved breaking the silence. “Of course, Mrs. Bradshaw. Of course.” He cleared his throat as if the words were sticking there. “If that is what you require, Mr. Konewko could make that happen.”
Mrs. Bradshaw waved him off—not in an unkind way, but in more of an I’ll get back to you in a minute way. She turned her gaze to Brynn. “Tell me, dear, what do you know about fishing and boating?”
Brynn shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable and once again wishing she’d chosen a better seat—even one of the folding canvas ones would have been preferable. She felt like the little kid in the conversation. “My family and I have been camping in many of the lesser-known state parks. Always primitive tent camping,” she hurried to clarify, “so I’ll be quite comfortable helping summer clients find what they need.”
That might be stretching the truth, considering Brynn’s dad had always acted as foreman of their camping group. Sure, he assigned out the tasks for setting up and breaking camp so everyone would learn how to use the equipment, but only after he’d already planned and packed everything. Brynn had only ever followed his instructions and goofed off with her brother, Miles. While she enjoyed camping, she hadn’t spent much time familiarizing herself with what customers going camping would want and need to make their trips safe and comfortable.
Now if a customer asked about skiing, there wasn’t a product or brand Brynn hadn’t personally tried out or probably even sponsored at some point. So what if experiencing the mountains through a tent door wasn’t her thing? Hiking among emerald-foliaged trees, feeling the heat of the air, and fighting through underbrush wasn’t her favorite way to see the sights. Tearing around bare trees at breakneck speed, flying over moguls, and crisscrossing paths blanketed with snow measuring in the double digits—that’s where her heart was. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy chatting about camping when it came to giving advice or selling products.
“I see Mr. Grey isn’t the only one trying to spin things to their advantage.” Mrs. Bradshaw good-naturedly shook an index finger at Brynn. “You know perfectly well that’s not what I asked you, either. I know you’ve been camping—I’ve had a few conversations about it with your father myself—but I don’t remember your family ever coming in asking about fishing or boating or even hunting.”
Knowing she couldn’t refute her ignorance, Brynn tried very hard not to squirm.
“If I were to ask you what size shell I needed for my rifle, what would you say? How about if I asked you what kind of fishing was in the area, where to go, and what kind of pole I needed to catch said type of fish?”
Brynn had no earthly idea. She felt she needed to make some kind of remark and hoped it wouldn’t sound too snarky. “Umm, Google?” She tried to laugh it off. “Okay, you’re right. I don’t know much about that kind of thing, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn, right? Everyone has to start somewhere. Until then, I would make sure to hire someone who does know.” Brynn said this as humbly as she possibly could while trying to sound confident at the same time.
“You know, Nora—” Yay for Liz in reminding Mrs. Bradshaw of their personal relationship. “—Brynn may not have lived in Ruidoso full-time until now, but she might as well have. She’s come here regularly since she was a baby. While I’m not trying to say anything bad about Mr. Konewko, we don’t really know anything about him. He’s from a big city in another state. Has he ever even been to Ruidoso before this?” Liz questioned Martin, who shrugged.
That was answer enough to make her point. Liz continued, “Mr. Konewko won’t understand the clientele as well as Brynn does. Brynn will do everything in her power to continue the reputation for excellence Owen’s Outfitters has earned these past decades. She should be given the opportunity to show you what she’s got.”
“Ah!” Mrs. Bradshaw sprang out of her seat with enthusiasm. “What a fabulous idea!” In her excitement, she practically danced around the fake fire. “Mr. Konewko and Ms. Caley should work together.” She clapped her hands together. “With her winter sports knowledge and his summer expertise, they are a perfect match.”
“I don’t think—” Liz started.
“But—” Martin said at the same time.
Brynn sat stone-faced and completely in shock. That wasn’t what Liz had been saying at all. For goodness’ sake, the For Sale sign had been covered in cobwebs when Brynn had started considering taking over the store. Nobody else had wanted it. She’d taken her time, considered all the possibilities, weighed the risks and plausible outcomes, and lost sleep with the worry that if she signed, she would have buyer’s remorse. And now she regretted putting it off for so long. She’d been too hesitant, too careful. If this didn’t work out, it would be the second of her dreams to be snuffed out, leaving her life’s ambitions exhausted by age twenty-four.
“I have a proposal.” Mrs. Bradshaw eyed each of the parties individually with stares as sharp as arrow points. “No negotiations.” Mrs. Bradshaw was insistent. “This is what I’m offering: I want Mr. Konewko and Miss Caley working side by side for the next year. The business will remain my company and my property, but I will allow them decide together how to run things and what improvements they want to make.”
Brynn arched an eyebrow. Mrs. Bradshaw laughed.
“Yes, I realize some work needs to be done. I’ll leave it up to the two of you to figure out the division of labor, what to stock, the whole deal. It’s the two of you together and the store remains a year-round outdoor outfitter benefiting the entire sporting community. After twelve months, we’ll reconvene to decide if either one or both of you want to purchase the entire business—not just the property.” She looked from Brynn to Martin and back again. “Are you interested? I’m willing to wait for the next qualified buyer, even if it takes ‘til I’m ninety.”
From the moment Brynn had stepped into the store, she could feel her dream of owning a ski shop slipping out from under her like hitting a patch of ice when you expected fresh powder. This was her chance to grab on with all her might, even if it might give her some calluses in the process. She was tough. While not an arrangement she’d ever imagined, the forced partnership meant she would still get a piece of the business. Something was better than nothing, wasn’t it? She was tenacious enough to go head to head with Mr. Konewko for a year if it meant she’d reach this dream.
Except maybe she wouldn’t have to share. The hint of possibility brightened her outlook. Maybe being hobbled with a partner and under Mrs. Bradshaw’s authority for the next year would be enough to push Mr. Konewko into walking away. She could only hope.
“I’m willing,” Brynn said, nodding. She turned a sympathetic look on Martin. “But from what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound like the business Mr. Konewko has been looking for and he’s not here to agree to the terms.”
“Actually,” Martin jumped in, “before he left, Mr. Konewko signed the paperwork with permission for me to fill in the particular details of the sale.” He turned a toothy grin toward Mrs. Bradshaw. “And what was the last thing he said?”
“‘Do whatever it takes. Just make the deal happen,’” Martin and Mrs. Bradshaw said in unison.
“Which only leaves us to iron out the details such as money and timing. And then we sign.” Martin sounded way too pleased with himself.
Brynn turned her fact away, working hard to prevent a scowl.
As the group worked out the lease agreement and business contracts, Brynn felt many of her original concerns ebbing away. Essentially, Brynn and Mr. Konewko would own the business and lease the property with Mrs. Bradshaw cont
ractually around for oversight—if she wanted to jump in and put on the brakes. “But don’t make me,” she warned Brynn, wagging her finger again. “I’ve been looking forward to some new adventures of my own.”
Basically, owning Owen’s Outfitters would be business ownership akin to riding a tandem bike with training wheels. It would be interesting to see how this would work.
Running a business in this way was perhaps odd, but Brynn realized with relief that she would now only have half the financial investment and less risk than she would have. Suddenly, this creative business solution didn’t seem like such a bad deal after all. And it wasn’t even long term. This gave her the rare chance of being able to try it out for a year. What other business investment allowed you to do that? It was perfect. Assuming, of course, that she could work with this stranger, this Mr. Konewko—or at least outlast him.
Chapter 2
“You saved me.” Gage stepped out of his truck onto a carpet of pine needles and falling leaves. He took a deep breath, and peace flooded into him. He liked business just fine, especially out here, where the air was crisp and the sky clear. It was much better than that dank sporting goods store he’d been pleased to escape.
Not that he wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of owning a fishing and camping store, because he certainly was, but he wanted all the preliminary stuff to be over—the contracts and the inspections, even the renovations that would make the place his. What he wanted was to get into a life where he could talk to people all day about fishing, show off the gear, and introduce them to the best fishing holes in the area—well, all but this quiet place he was determined to keep to himself.
“How did I save you?” Keenan untied his end of the canoe from the back of Gage’s pickup. His voice sounded as if it were muffled by the calm quiet of the forest. “It’s my vacation. By definition, you’re saving me here.”
Gage shoved his keys under the floor mat and stepped back to untie the boat from the front. The slickness of the nylon rope stubbornly resisted under his callused fingers. “Oh, yeah? Saving you from Avery? Are you already tired of her? There’s a red flag.” In the hour they’d been together, he’d heard more than his share about Keenan’s fiancée, so Gage couldn’t help but take a teasing jab.
“Whatever. You know better.” Keenan slung a creel over his shoulder; the basket bounced on his back before he hefted his end of the canoe. “But seriously, this place is gorgeous. New Mexico, huh? Who’d a thunk?”
“Careful now. Your Texan bias is seeping through,” Gage reminded him. He and Keenan had been roommates at the University of Texas and they often teased each other. Having grown up in Colorado, Gage joked that Texans were full of themselves, and Keenan agreed proudly.
“Well, it’s not the beach at Corpus Christi or anything, but you’ve shown me that mountains aren’t so bad either.”
“Beach? You call that sprinkling of sand on the gulf a beach?” Gage had been privileged to travel more than Keenan ever had, so he didn’t want to rub it in too much, but when he thought of beaches, the Texas Gulf was far from the first to come to mind. Then again, he’d always been more of a mountain man than a beach bum. “Ready?”
“Are we seriously going to fish?”
Gage stifled a laugh at Keenan’s near-whine over the planned activities. “What, are you squeamish?” He couldn’t hold back a bit of a sneer. “You need your fiancée to bait your hook?”
“Funny.” Keenan stopped dead to glare at his friend. “I just mean that you can’t possibly think we’re going to catch something at this time of day.” Keenan recommenced his pace toward the water again. With Keenan’s unexpected motion, Gage was pulled along at the other side of the canoe, his boots slipping on the rocks under his feet.
“For someone who doesn’t want to fish, you’re sure in a hurry,” Gage said. “And it’s plenty cool enough for the fish to be out. Besides, what’s better than an afternoon spent fishing?”
They reached the lake’s rocky shore and set down the boat, loaded their gear, and climbed in.
“You gotta push harder than that, man,” Keenan joked when Gage’s first couple of pushes didn’t move them but a few inches.
“Or you gotta lose a few pounds,” Gage grumbled. “That girl’s feeding you too well.”
“She’s a good cook,” Keenan said, “but it’s her dad who does most of the cooking. Not that I’m complaining.”
Keenan patted his stomach, but Gage had been kidding about the pounds. He hadn’t noticed anything different about his buddy other than the goofy grin on his face whenever Keenan mentioned Avery. That look, honestly, was why Gage brought her up so often. He got a kick out of seeing his friend so happy, even if he had to push away a bitter aftertaste of jealousy. If only he had someone to hang out with—someone who shared his interests, someone he could talk to about anything, someone who made him as ridiculously happy as Avery made Keenan. If only there was such a woman out there for him. But he’d tried that once, even thought he had found it, until she dumped him on his backside. Now, it seemed, it would be a long shot to find that kind of love in this obscure forest town.
“Put some muscle into it this time,” Keenan called.
Gage gave one more shove, wanting to push away those hurtful memories of Tasha. As the canoe finally drifted away from the shore, he jumped in, getting one foot soaked in the process. The two paddled, working together around the edge of the lake until Gage directed Keenan to a small inlet. A fallen pine cordoned it off from the rest of the lake.
“Head to the dead tree. We’ll want to be close—that’s where the fish will be hiding—but far enough away to cast without getting our lines stuck in the branches overhead.”
Once they were situated and waiting for any indication of movement on their lines, Keenan brought up the conversation Gage had almost forgotten himself. “Are you ever going to tell me what I saved you from?”
“Oh, yeah. That. I’m going to be a business owner.” He knew he was being vague, stretching it out, but he relished the moment. He felt as proud of this new business as he would have if he’d built it with his own two hands. He couldn’t believe his luck, really, in stumbling across this idea. It was perfect for him. No board rooms, no office chairs, no conference calls.
Keenan looked confused. “You did go to business school, so I figured that was the plan all along.” He said it in a So what? kind of way that had Gage smiling. Surely Keenan wasn’t imagining this—what Gage was currently doing—as his future business venture.
Gage bobbed his head in a Yeah, that’s true kind of way.
“And that still doesn’t answer the question of how I saved you.” Keenan was starting to sound bothered, like he was getting ready to abandon the whole conversation, and Gage couldn’t blame him.
“Remember how Tasha said I couldn’t make a living from my hobbies?”
“One of the biggest reasons you broke up.” Keenan reeled in to check his hook. It was empty.
“Yeah. Well, I found a way.” Gage smiled smugly, enjoying the gentle rocking of the boat as Keenan baited his hook again and cast off. “At least, I think I have. I’ve decided to buy the outdoor outfitter here in town. The only thing better than fishing all day is taking someone else fishing. And the next-best thing to taking someone else fishing all day is talking to them about it. It’s going to be epic.”
“Let me get this straight.” Keenan switched his pole from one hand to the other. “You met me here for a vacation, and now you’re buying a store? Not a souvenir T-shirt, but an entire store? You gotta be kidding me.” Keenan laughed so hard that the boat rocked from side to side, no doubt scaring any possible catches. Eventually, Keenan got a hold of himself. He breathed out and shook his head. “Okay. Now that I’ve gotten over the shock, I can see it. It sounds like you.”
“So what you saved me from? You saved me from what was sure to be a sticky situation. See, I wasn’t the first to be interested in the property. There’s this woman who, I am told, was about to make
an offer on the property today. I guess she’d been thinking about it for the past month or two. Anyway, you snooze, you lose, right? I saw the For Sale sign in the window when I came into town last week. A few great fishing days and some to-die-for barbeque later, and I knew I wanted the place. I went to see it this morning, ready to sign an offer on the spot, but the owner said she insisted on calling Ms. Caley in to talk things over first.”
Gage watched the sun glint off the water. “This woman was on her way over when I got your text, so thanks to you, I swooped in at the buzzer, offered the owner more money, and left before I had to look Ms. Caley in the eye.”
“Don’t you feel bad? About basically snaking the shop out from under her—stealing her dream just because you have more cash to offer the owner a sweeter deal?”
“Not really.” Gage had felt perfectly comfortable with it before this conversation. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” Gage leaned back and rested his elbows on the seat behind him, holding the pole with his boots. He wanted to look like he believed it, but Keenan’s question did stir up a dust devil of regret. Not guilty enough to give up what he wanted, now that the opportunity had presented itself, but enough to know he was, in fact, a feeling human being. “It’s hardly my fault the woman is too timid to make a decision. With that attitude, she never would have made it in business anyway. Not if it takes her two months to act.”
The words sank like stones through the water, and the silence that followed made him wonder if he was making the right decision. Oh, well. He’d have to see what Martin and Old Lady Bradshaw worked out in his absence. For all he knew, this Ms. Caley had a signed contract in hand and he was out of the picture. He bristled at that. No, he wouldn’t accept it. When he left, he told Martin to “make it happen,” and he had perfect faith in the guy. Why else would he be paying him the big bucks?
Kayaks and Kisses: A Romance Renovation Novel (Vintage Romance) Page 2
