by Stacy Finz
It mattered more than she’d let on. The rest of their friends had enjoyed huge successes. Besides Foster, Hannah owned Glorious Gifts, a great house, and a car that ran. Two of her high-school buddies had made it to the Olympics and another one was a high-paid engineer for Google.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “Want to take a break and grab a coffee at Tart Me Up?”
“I’ve got a big order I have to finish and deliver. And not to sound like a nag”—he gave her a hard look—“but you shouldn’t be spending money on coffees at Tart Me Up.”
He was right, of course.
“I should let you get back to work,” she said and got down from the counter.
Foster walked her to the door. “Think about what you want to do for your birthday. Hannah and I will plan it.” Which was Foster’s way of saying they’d pay for it. She wished they wouldn’t—she’d never been good at accepting gifts like that—but they were stubborn that way.
If nothing else, Deb had excellent friends.
“See you around,” she said, and endured the cold on her way to the bank to deposit her tip money.
“Hi, Deb,” Cheryl, the teller, greeted her. The thing about living in a small town was, everyone knew everyone.
She filled out a deposit slip and plunked her wad of cash on the counter. Cheryl straightened the bills and counted them, her long, acrylic nails tapping on the keyboard.
“You know you’re overdrawn, right?”
“No.” Deb leaned over the counter to get a look at the computer monitor.
Cheryl turned the screen so Deb could see better. “Two checks came in and your account had insufficient funds.”
Great. This was going to cost her sixty bucks in overdraft fees, more than a quarter of her tips.
On her way home, she passed Hannah’s gift shop, considered going in, and decided she didn’t need to sprinkle downer dust on her best friend. When Deb reached the Morning Glory, she climbed the stairs on the side of the building and went inside her apartment. Today, it smelled like a combination of onion rings and patty melts.
Her answering machine blinked with messages. The first one was from her mother, who asked if Deb could lend them money for a cord of firewood. There went the rest of her tips. It was cold this winter and she didn’t want them to freeze.
During the recession, her parents’ janitorial company had taken a big hit and never fully recovered. Then her father had injured his back falling off a ladder. Two years ago, they’d sold the company at a fraction of its worth. Dad went on disability and Mom got a job as a cashier at the local supermarket.
The next two calls were from collection agencies. One, an outstanding bill from an emergency room visit when Deb had come down with pneumonia last winter—she didn’t have health insurance—and the other for a late payment on a credit card.
She plopped down on the sofa, a hand-me-down from Hannah’s first marriage, and buried her face in the pillows. The University of Nevada catalog had somehow gotten wedged under the seat cushion and stared back at her mockingly.
Man, she needed a new life. The one she had was seriously broken. She pulled out the spreadsheet from her purse and studied it for the umpteenth time, looking for ways to trim the fat. The premium cable channels had been cut months ago and she’d already gotten the cheapest phone plan known to mankind. Short of turning off her utilities, she didn’t know what else she could cancel.
She let out a long breath and, with desperation outweighing pride, reached for the phone and dialed. “For the record, I’m not happy about making this call. You still willing to help me?”
“Sure.” She could almost see TJ’s told-you-so smile beaming through the phone. “Come over now if you want to.”
No way was she going to GA. The whole Garner clan didn’t need to know her situation. They were like a second family to her and she wanted to make them proud, not feel sorry for her.
“Want to come here instead?” The offer was out of her mouth before she thought to look around her apartment. There was a stack of dishes in the sink, mail scattered across the kitchen table, and a layer of dust as thick as the snow on the surrounding mountains. Besides, having him here would be a distraction. A big, sexy distraction.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then he finally said, “Let’s get coffee.”
She cringed, Foster’s words coming back to haunt her. But what could she do, tell him she couldn’t afford a measly cup of coffee? “Okay, but not at the Morning Glory.” She’d seen enough of the diner for one day.
“We could go to Tart Me Up, Old Glory, or Starbucks.”
“Tart Me Up,” she said. Old Glory would be too loud, and at nearly four bucks a latte, she’d rather give her money to Rachel Johnson than Starbucks.
“Meet you there. Bring your spreadsheet and any other financial information you have.”
Deb laughed to herself. Yes, she’d bring her whole portfolio, which would fit in her change purse.
It took her less than six minutes to get to the bakery on foot. She beat TJ, stripped off her layers, and grabbed them a small table near the back. Tart Me Up only sat about twelve comfortably. In the mornings, it was packed with patrons waiting in line for Rachel’s mouthwatering pastries, croissants, breads, and breakfast sandwiches. Customers literally had to take a number. The crowds usually died down after lunchtime and started up again at five, when Rachel sold what was left in the bakery cases for half price.
TJ came in and acknowledged Deb with a nod. Then he went to the counter, where he proceeded to chat with the barista for five minutes. He looked good. Tall, broad, and successful. But unlike the well-to-do polish of douchebag Steve and his friends, TJ had the ruggedness of a man who hailed from these mountains.
“What do you want?” he called to her.
“A latte.”
He brought the latte, a regular coffee, and a plate of biscotti to the table. When she handed him a five-dollar bill, he pushed it back at her.
“I can afford my own coffee, TJ.”
He raised his brows, snapped one of the biscotti in half for himself, and slid the plate at her. “Let me see that spreadsheet.”
She tugged it out of the bottom of her purse and tried to flatten it the best she could. He took it from her and stared at it for a few seconds.
“This your first time using Excel?” There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice.
“No,” she lied. “I did it fast.”
He glanced up. “What’s the interest rates on these cards?”
Too embarrassed to admit ignorance, she didn’t say anything, just took a bite of one of the cookies.
He looked up from the spreadsheet. “You have them with you?”
She pulled out her wallet and flipped it open. One glance at the rows of plastic and he let out a whistle. Then he got up, walked to the bakery counter, and returned a few minutes later with a scissor.
“What’s that for?”
“Take a wild guess.” His eyes gleamed, and for a minute, a burst of nostalgia washed over her. This was the playful way he used to be with her, before she’d hooked up with Win, before her life went to hell.
Deb made a protective circle around the wallet with her arms. “No way. It’s not like I can use them anyway.”
“Then it won’t matter if I cut them up.” He had the nerve to wink. “You can keep two. We’ll choose the ones with the lowest interest rates. Definitely no department-store credit cards. They’re the worst.”
“I realize you’re supposed to be a financial wizard, but I’m pretty sure cutting them up isn’t going to magically pay what I owe on them,” she said.
“Nope. But it’ll keep you from getting into this predicament again.” TJ took off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. Foster was right; TJ was unequivocally the hottest single guy in town. And the most unavailable . . . at least to her. “You got a pen?”
Trying to appear unaffected, she fumbled through her bag until she found
a pencil from the diner and handed it to him. He did a few quick calculations with his phone and took notes in the margins of the spreadsheet.
“How much you take home a week?”
Hell no, she wasn’t telling him that.
He glanced up at her and pierced her with those blue eyes of his. “Deb, I can’t help you without having basic information.”
She had a sudden flashback of a fifteen-year-old TJ talking to her father about the Nasdaq and how he was rounding out his portfolio with a certain tech stock. Her father had been mopping Garner Adventure’s lobby at the time. Even at twelve, she’d felt a hot flush of humiliation creep up her neck and face.
“Deb?” His voice was impatient.
She thought about it for a few seconds, then warned him, “So help me, if you laugh, I’ll put laxatives in your Morning Glory doughnuts,” and reluctantly told him.
“That with tips or before?”
God, this was mortifying. “With, give or take some.”
He jotted down the number and, to his credit, showed no facial expression whatsoever. Not shock, nor pity. Pure poker face. “You have any other income besides the diner?”
“You mean from my trust fund and angel investments?”
He didn’t appear to find her attempt at humor funny, ignoring her question and pointing to the spreadsheet. “Then according to this, your expenses are roughly twice as much as your earnings.”
That sounded about right, and she certainly didn’t need him to tell her that. “Yes. Now, how do I fix it?”
“It’s simple economics—you have to make more money.”
But how? In Glory Junction, there weren’t a lot of career options for someone like her. Residents of the resort town either owned their own businesses, provided professional services, or worked at one of the resorts for minimum wage. That was why she needed to go back to school.
“You can pick up hours at Garner Adventure,” he said. “We’re desperate for good guides.”
“No offense, but I could make more taking extra shifts at the diner.” Guide work was seasonal and the excursions were all-inclusive, meaning no tips.
She huffed out a breath; it was an impossible situation. It was above and beyond of TJ to take the time to help her, but even someone as smart as he couldn’t pull money out of thin air.
“How far behind are you on your bills?” he asked, and she didn’t answer, letting the silence speak for itself. “Some of your creditors might be willing to consolidate your debt. I could make some calls for you, see what your options are.”
“Why? Why would you do that for me? Ever since high school, you’ve been doing your best to avoid me at all costs.” Deb had gotten the impression that she was a major annoyance to him. In all honesty, it had been easier that way. So long as he was absent from her everyday life, she couldn’t regret choosing the other brother.
His eyes locked on her. “Some might say you’ve done the same.” He leaned back in his chair as if to say, touché.
She didn’t reply, not willing to confess the truth. She’d known the Garner family her whole life. Win might be fickle as the Sierra Nevada weather, but she understood him. Josh Garner was married to her best friend and Colt Garner was like a big brother. TJ, on the other hand, had always seemed to be so out of reach, so . . . flawless. And here he was, offering to get involved in the mess that was her life.
It was weird, especially because she never would’ve expected him to do anything that didn’t revolve around Garner Adventure or professional advancement. There was absolutely nothing in it for him. Nothing at all.
“You really think it would make that much of a difference?” she asked, because from where she was sitting, it seemed like consolidation was a Band-Aid when what she needed was a tourniquet.
He reached across the table and wiped a biscotti crumb off her chin, the simple action feeling more intimate than it should’ve. “The way I see it, you don’t have a lot of other choices. At least if we could get the payments down to something you could manage, it might save your credit. But the bottom line is, you have to figure out how to increase your income.”
“The only skill I have other than waitressing is athleticism,” she said and took the other half of the biscotti and washed it down with her latte. “But I’m not good enough to turn it into a profession, at least not one that will pay me a decent wage. I was thinking of going back to school and becoming a phys-ed teacher. But I still have to pay my bills, put a roof over my head, and fix my car.”
“What’s wrong with your car?”
“I need a new transmission. Mine is slipping.”
“You sure you don’t have a fluid leak?”
“Burl over at the Shell station checked. He says it’s going.”
“That sucks.” He sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim of the mug. “My dad knows a guy who sells rebuilt ones for a fraction of what they go for. I can get you a deal.”
She let out a sigh. “Thanks, but I’m putting that on hold for a while.”
He nodded. “Whenever. Just let me know.”
There he went, being helpful again.
“You okay, TJ? You’re being so . . . considerate.”
His lips kicked up in the corners. “Something wrong with that?”
She took a minute to examine him. Same gorgeous guy he’d always been. He had Win’s eyes, Colt’s cleft chin, and Josh’s determination etched across his face. But there was something else there, that same indefinable character Deb remembered from their childhood. Empathy? Whatever it was, she thought it had disappeared as he’d morphed into a ruthless businessman. Or maybe it hadn’t, but it was convenient to see him that way.
“Nope,” she said. “I really appreciate your help, TJ.”
He hitched his shoulders. “I’m afraid I haven’t done much.”
“Well, I’ll take you up on your offer to help me with my creditors.” She offered a wan smile. “It’s a start, right?”
“Definitely. You want to save your credit. In the meantime, give me your cards. I’ll take them back to the office and make some calls.”
“You have time?” One thing she knew about Garner Adventure was that they had more business than they had staff. Colt was always grousing about how they were calling him in to guide a tour when he already had a full-time job as police chief.
“I’ll fit it in.” He winked, and damned if she didn’t feel a flutter in her chest and a gush of warmth. It was exactly what she didn’t want to feel. Not from him anyway. Too reckless.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m not good at that kind of thing.”
He leaned across the table and in a soft voice said, “Deb, you have to start thinking about changing your situation. Maybe you should talk to a career counselor.”
“Sure.” She let out a wry chuckle. “I can tell them how I want to turn recreation into a full-time profession.”
“Why not? That’s how Garner Adventure got its start.” He flashed a grin that did crazy things to her insides.
“Are you telling me to open my own adventure tour company?”
“Nope.” He rubbed that square jaw of his, and again she felt a zing. “I’m telling you to make your passion work for you. Hannah’s done it, Foster’s done it; you can do it too.”
“I’ll think about it.” That’s what the kinesiology degree had been all about; then her dad’s back.... Life didn’t always go as planned. She stood up and shrugged into her jacket, having taken up enough of his time.
He watched her while he drained the rest of his coffee. “That one of Delaney’s?”
“Uh-huh. She gave it to me.” She didn’t want TJ to think she was so irresponsible that she’d drop four hundred bucks on a designer jacket, especially after he’d just offered to help with consolidating her debt.
“We’re selling those same jackets, or at least trying to. I’m working on our online store.”
“That’s what I hear. They’ll do well. I love mine.” She flipped her hair from i
nside the collar.
He continued to watch her closely. “It looks great on you.”
She stopped in midzip, wondering why Win’s compliments had never sounded that sincere.
Chapter Three
Ah, hell, what had he gotten himself into? It was the spreadsheet, he told himself all the way back to the office. He hadn’t realized how much Deb had been supporting her parents until he’d pored through her finances. Nearly half her paltry waitressing salary went to helping Sid and Geri pay their mortgage and incidentals. Family was everything and he respected her dedication to her parents, but it was too much for a person in her financial bracket to take on.
He wished someone would’ve told him. Win was in the best position to know but was too busy playing and having a good time to pay attention to anyone but himself.
TJ loved his brother. He really did. And most of the time, he even liked him. But it didn’t take a particularly astute person to see that Win was emotionally stunted. He’d always lived in his own private Idaho, where life was a perpetual beach party full of women who threw themselves at him.
Everyone expected Win would eventually grow up. And when that day came, he would come to his senses about Deb and they’d live happily ever after. That’s why TJ needed to stay away from her as much as possible. Except sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Like this thing with her financial problems . . . He kept telling himself he was a money guy, and it was what he would do for any of their circle of friends. Only he didn’t want to kiss his other friends or see them naked, or do any number of other things that could technically be classified as X-rated.
When he got to Garner Adventure, the button on the phone at the reception desk flashed red. With Darcy out, he was responsible for dealing with the messages. After eating up an hour with Deb, it was another thing he didn’t have time for.
He went to his office, rang up Darcy, and looped her in on the morning’s meeting.
