Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
She pressed her lips together. “What about the summer camp? Are you really a counselor?”
“Yes. Every summer for the last six years, I’ve spent my vacation time at Camp Lemonade in southeastern Massachusetts. I’ve got the T-shirt to prove it.” My hands were still on her shoulders, and I rubbed them with my thumbs. “Hey, come on. We had a great time together. This is just a strange coincidence.”
She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t knock my hands away either.
“And maybe this is a good thing,” I went on. “We already know we have great chemistry and play nicely together.” I tried the easy grin that had worked so well Sunday night. “Let’s use that to negotiate the best possible deal for the both of us.”
Now she knocked my hands off her. “No way, mister. This is too much coincidence. I still say you knew who I was and got me to admit all kinds of private things, and then you—you bedeviled me with your magic tongue!”
“Bedeviled you? Be fair, Lexi. It was your choice to leave with me, and I asked you over and over again if what I was doing was okay. I would have stopped at any time.” I paused. Rubbed a hand over my jaw. “Magic tongue, huh?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Okay fine, maybe you didn’t take advantage of me like that, but I’ll never believe you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. You probably thought this would be easy—coming out here and steam-rolling my little old grandmother into accepting your offer.”
“It’s a good offer,” I said with a shrug. “If it were my grandmother, I’d tell her to take it.”
“I don’t care what you’d tell anyone.” She took a step closer to me—so close I could smell her perfume, and the scent woke up all kinds of sensory memories in me. I wanted to crush my mouth to hers, set her up on that bar, and bury my head between her thighs all over again.
Wisely, I decided now wasn’t the time.
“Snowberry Lodge isn’t just a paycheck to me,” she said, her voice catching. “It’s not about the money. It’s about honoring my family and the place we’ve always called home. It’s about continuing tradition. It’s about offering an alternative to the overpriced corporate amusement parks calling themselves ski resorts these days.”
“Those places are making money,” I pointed out, my tone matter-of-fact but not mean. “Snowberry isn’t.”
“But it could,” she insisted, the stubborn tone back in her voice. “With some investment and fresh ideas, it could.”
“Whose ideas?”
“Mine. I could turn things around.” Her chin came up, her eyes daring me to say something dismissive or maybe even laugh.
But I wasn’t a jerk or a fool. Insulting her would be the absolute worst thing I could do right now. People give what they get—what I wanted to do was make her feel valued and important. She was the one who could walk away from this deal today, and I was the one who needed to seal it.
I tucked my hands into my pockets, forming my next sentence carefully. “What do you do at Snowberry?”
“I run the ski school in the winter and the front desk in the summer. But I’ve worked here all my life. I’ve done just about every job.”
I nodded. “I’m sure you know a lot about what it would take to run this place.”
“But you don’t think I could do it.” Her tone kept its edge.
“I think you could do anything you set your mind to. You’re obviously smart, determined, and emotionally invested. And I get it—I’m from this area too. It’s home to me. It means family and childhood. There are memories here I carry with me everywhere I go.” Our eyes locked, and a look of recognition passed between us, a reminder that we shared an experience that had forever left a mark. It sent warmth rippling through my body, like the rings made by a stone tossed into a still pond.
I ignored it. Focused on the task at hand.
“What you’re proposing would take money,” I went on. “Do you have it?”
“I’m going to get it,” she said confidently.
“From where?” I’d seen the numbers—there was little chance a bank was going to give her the kind of money needed to turn this place before it went completely bankrupt. “And by when?”
“You don’t need to know that,” she said, and I knew right then and there she had not secured any kind of loan.
“Do you have a business plan?”
“You don’t need to know that either.” Her neck and face were growing mottled with blotchy pink spots. “All you need to know is that we won’t be selling to you—not today and not ever!” She elbowed me aside and marched off. As she reached the end of the bar, she tossed a furious look over her shoulder. “Now I’m glad I dumped a margarita on you!”