The next morning, Adam Kline arrived to the Silver Bells Luxury Tours store looking even better than I’d dreamed about last night with those full lips and incredible eyes. Ugh, why was I fantasizing about my new boss? I reminded myself he was the guy who wanted to sell the business that meant so much to me. He was also the guy whose mind I needed to change. I doubted I could do that by dating him.
Although a very big part of me wouldn’t mind trying.
My dating life hadn’t been so great lately, anyway. No need to torch it further. Honestly, it hadn’t been good in a few years. My last boyfriend had been so annoyed when I broke up with him that he’d called me independently heartless. Um, what did that mean? Not exactly a compliment meant to win back my affections. But, whatever. I’d wasted four months of my life with him and got over that relationship by hiking a trail around Mt. Rainier.
Ah, extreme bliss and no name-calling.
My parents are very put together and they couldn’t make their marriage work. So, why should my love life be any different? The only things I could count on were my friends, the mountains, this charming town, and my job. Except that Adam would make me lose my job if he sold the business. Argh! Well, no way. Not going to happen, buddy.
“Good morning, Faith,” Adam said, from the doorway leading to the back room of the store. “I need something from you.”
The name of my favorite restaurant, my favorite flower, or my favorite wine? How about my input on where we should go on our first date? I shook my head. Get a grip, Faith. I really needed to start listening to some less romantic meditation music before bed.
“You need something, huh?” I asked, thinking I needed something from him, too. My job, not a date. I pushed back the chair I’d been sitting in and stood. The back of the office space was utilitarian, and boring. Nothing in the plain room but two desks, cabinets, computers and sticky notes. “I need to check on a few things out front. Can we walk and talk?”
“I possess that talent, yes,” he said and waited for me to exit first.
As I passed by him, I caught the faint scent of spicy cologne that gave me the urge to nuzzle my face in his collar. Oh, man. I really needed to stop with the fantasizing about my boss. Well, my soon-to-be ex boss if I didn’t play my cards right.
I went through the door between the business offices and the store, walking into a glorious ode to luxury and outdoorsy fun. Who says you can’t enjoy the mountains in style? Not us. Snowshoes hung from the vast fishing net attached to the ceiling. Skis and poles were arranged to look like they’d go flying out the door on their own at any minute. There were expensive outfits for men and women, modeled on mannequins.
Long racks sat below shelves that showcased photos of earlier tour groups and Mr. Kline doing what he did best, giving people a luxurious trip into the wilderness. A few well-placed racks offered touristy items, but nothing too kitschy. My favorites were the Christmas Mountain snow globes that contained a perfect replica of The Sharing Tree decked out in all its glory. Those had been my idea, in fact.
If only they would start selling better. . .
We had high-end fishing gear neatly arranged below a hanging kayak. A small alcove tucked off to one side held a coffee bar for our clients—and usually some of Jingle Bells Bakery’s famous cinnamon rolls. Those pastries could make even the worst day better. What I wouldn’t give for a cinnamon roll at his very moment. Or five rolls.
The large windows gave a wide view of the quaint, adorable main street below in town. And there were photos of Mr. Kline with our guests hiking, fishing, skiing, snow-shoeing, camping, and touring Santa’s grotto.
I snapped my fingers and then gestured at the photos. “By the way, I should ask you what you want to do with those photos. The new owner probably won’t want them.”
Adam’s gaze moved to the photos and froze. A line formed between his eyebrows. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“You’re aware that’s the worst route to take in this business, right?”
“I’m not in this business. I’m here to sell it. You know that, Faith.”
“Which is why you don’t know that you never cross a bridge without considering all of the risks. Lesson number one,” I said, my tone coming across more humorous than bossy, but pretty sure I wasn’t succeeding.
“I don’t need a lesson,” he said, his deep baritone voice making me shiver. Those tingles got more intense when he stepped toward me. “I only have three weeks. What I need is the data.”
“You mean the business side? Profit and loss, accounting, stock suppliers, and such?” I asked, slapping my hand on his forearm like we were best buds. Heat warmed my palm through the sleeve of the button-up shirt he’d probably spent way too much money on. I scanned the look on his face. He’d have been the perfect candidate for one of our tours.
“Exactly,” he said, his eyes warming again as he smiled. “Numbers that let me know what to ask for this business.”
“Gotcha.” I raised a finger as inspiration hit. Adam didn’t know much about the business and he needed to know why this store was so important. Not just to me but to Mr. Kline. “You’re never going to understand the value of this business by merely reading the accounting sheets.”
His smile died. “I beg to differ. You can understand a lot about a business by its accounting.”
He meant profits. Of which there were precious few.
“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, yes, but a lot of the value in this business is about the return guest factor and guests bonding with the people who go on the tours with them, usually family, and finding themselves. Challenging themselves to do something they can’t do at home in the city and may never get the chance to do ever again.”
His smile returned. “You mean like a bucket list moment.”
“Yes, just like that. It’s about getting out there and just going for it.”
“And you think I don’t know anything about that?”
I shrugged. “If you want to know the reason why this business is so great, then you need to take an in-depth look.”
He stepped back, his gaze drifting toward the photos. “What I need is to get a pitch deck made up, fast.”
“A what?”
“Pitch deck. The sales presentation. Something that would explain why buyers should and would want this business.”
Man, that sounded so clinical.
“First, you need to go on a tour. You need to experience what we do.” We. There was no we anymore. Mr. Kline was gone and Adam wanted to sell the place. Would sell it unless I could figure out how to change his mind.
He stepped back. “You think going on a tour will help me gain understanding that will help me sell the place?”
You know, sometimes, you really can justify a big old lie. “Yes.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
I blinked. Wait. What just happened? Had he said yes, or was that wishful thinking? “You want to go on a tour?”
He nodded. “If it will help sell this business? You bet.”
Woo-hoo! Merry Christmas to me.
“I’ll set it up. You’re going to love this,” I said, rubbing my hands together as I went to make some calls. He had to enjoy the tour so much that he fell in love with Silver Bells. Just had to. I couldn’t fail Mr. Kline.
I couldn’t let Adam Kline sell the business, ruining my Christmas—and my life.