Kayaks and Kisses: A Romance Renovation Novel (Vintage Romance)

by Maria Hoagland

  “You say that, but you’ll see. I won’t be the only one who likes it. Peanut butter makes anything good taste even better.”

  Brynn left with a wave, wandering somewhat aimlessly a few more blocks until she came to a lone bench that beckoned her to rest and think.

  She couldn’t believe the turns her life had taken. Six months ago, she’d had no plans to run any kind of store. She hadn’t had any plans, really, other than training for the Olympic trials and hopefully moving forward. She made it to the trials and did extremely well, considering, only to lose by three-hundredths of a second behind the last of the women qualifying for the team.

  Upset to lose by such a tight margin, Brynn had attempted to ski off her irritation and calm herself enough to accept an alternate slot. Would she really want to stand around and watch others participate? If she was going to accept, she had to be able to do it with a smile on her face.

  Hot with disappointment, Brynn had taken the advanced trail farthest from the media and judges for a few moments’ peace and preparation, only to hook a ski tip on an ungroomed mogul in her frustrated state. It resulted in the second fracture of her skiing career, bringing her Olympic dreams to an excruciating halt and catapulting her off the stand-by list.

  A dumb freak accident that never should have happened, and a childhood dream she’d practically teethed on, evaporated just like that. Her entire life had revolved around skiing for as long as she could remember. Her parents had built ramps and slides in their backyard and spent every possible weekend on a slope somewhere. She was surprised they hadn’t invested in their own snow machine for the backyard. Their family had talked, watched, and thought of nothing but skiing.

  Probably because of this, everyone in Brynn’s life assumed the dream had been pressed upon her by one of her parents, but Brynn distinctly remembered the moment she decided she would be a skier. She was four when her family had gone to watch a skiing competition. Looking back now, she had no idea the level or age of the skiers since she herself was so young, but everyone else seemed mature and expert in her naiveté.

  What she did know was that she was enchanted by every aspect of this new experience: the excitement in the air, the cheering from the crowd, even the glittering crystals like diamonds scattered around her. A skier glided down the mountain so close that Brynn could feel the wind trailing behind and the spray of the powder on her almost-numb cheeks. Her heart thumped in time with the blades cutting across the snowpack, the sound amplified in her ears.

  The clincher had been when the skier stopped in front of Brynn, pulled off their helmet and goggles in one motion, and let down long, flowing hair. A girl just like her, only bigger, stronger, faster, and so completely brave. Best of all, this skier noticed her—little Brynn bundled up in her knit hat and pink parka. The skier unclipped her boots and ambled to the net to give Brynn a fist bump, her puffy glove to Brynn’s soft mitten. From then on, Brynn was hooked.

  Outside Basque in d’Light, the afternoon had warmed and a few shoppers had emerged, leisurely walking and enjoying a friend or family member, smiles on their lips and laughter in the air. Brynn felt cocooned in their happiness. She didn’t get why people often complained about tourist towns. Vacationers were generally relaxed. Taking breaks from the daily grind and spending time with the ones who meant the most to them generally did that to people. And their contentment was contagious.

  An older couple on the other side of the street caught her eye. The stooped man put a hand at the small of the woman’s back as if shielding her in his own little bubble of protection. At first glance, Brynn had expected this motion would be an effort to guide her where he wanted her to go, but he was so intent on watching her face, responding to her movements, that Brynn realized it was the woman who was leading. His only intent seemed to be her happiness.

  Why couldn’t falling in love be something she could add to her goal list, something she could work for and train toward as she had with skiing and owning her own business? But no matter how much she wanted the kind of companionship she saw in this couple, Brynn just couldn’t make it happen for her. There was no recipe, no scheduled workout, no cause and effect. She’d been told it would happen when it would happen, which just might be never.

  Sitting on the bench for so long, Brynn was starting to feel stiff and chilled. Time to go home. Better to focus on what she could do instead of that elusive fantasy, the ideal that existed for everyone but her. Instead, she’d put her mind to outlining a business plan. Organization. That was something she was good at. That was something that could be planned, ordered, and controlled.

  Chapter 4

  Smokin’ Hot BBQ, a small joint on the north fork of town, alone was worth the move to Ruidoso. The scent of mesquite wood and smoked meat caught his attention the first time he drove past. Looking for the origin of the heavenly smell, Gage’s eye caught the packed parking lot and clever name. A full parking lot equaled good food, and if the meat was that good, it was worth the long line.

  Gage eyed the meal options scrawled with a black marker on a whitewashed plywood board over the meat counter. He was having trouble deciding between brisket and sausage, but he had time. There were a good ten people in front of them.

  “What about Tasha?” Keenan asked, systematically pulling bottles from the ice-filled tub next to them, checking the labels, and submerging them again. “Have you seen her lately? Did she come to her senses?” He selected a blackberry lemonade and dried his fingers on his pant leg.

  “Don’t really want her to anymore.”

  “Really?” Keenan sounded impressed. “You were together a long time.”

  “Yeah,” Gage admitted, “but that doesn’t mean we should still be together.”

  “Oh, no, man. I completely agree.” Keenan’s tone was sincere, even if his words were flippant. “It’s just—well, you took it hard, so it’s good to see you’re over it.”

  “I was awful, wasn’t I?” Gage shook his head. He hated remembering how torn up he’d been over the breakup. Grouchy and upset at the world, he couldn’t have been easy to be around. “You remember how shocked I was when she broke things off—it was completely out of the blue, am I right?”

  Keenan nodded.

  “But I can honestly say now it was the best thing for both of us.” Gage was surprised to realize he was no longer spouting platitudes. He and Tasha had been perfect for each other throughout college, so the breakup had more than stunned him; it had pulled him from his game for a couple of months. Eventually, he was able to be himself again and remember how to enjoy life. For years, he’d been wearing her expectations like a straightjacket. Now that he didn’t have to please her, he felt free.

  “It’s good to see the old you again. You’re finally having fun doing the things you like instead of catering to her all the time.” Keenan stepped forward, placed his order, and then resumed the conversation.

  Gage broke away for a moment to place his order, making a last-second decision to get both the sausage and the brisket. “I tried way too hard to be what she wanted instead of who I wanted to be. Why didn’t you stop me?”

  “Would you have let me?”

  The man had a point. “Probably not.”

  Food and utensils in hand, the men paid and exited the store for the adjacent seating area. Gage and Keenan’s footsteps echoed across the wooden porch, and Gage opened the door into the crowded dining room. Claiming the last unoccupied booth, they sat down and opened their Styrofoam containers, letting out steam and aromas so delicious, Gage’s mouth started to water.

  “Funny thing is, I owe this whole adventure to Tasha.”

  “How so?” Keenan dumped sweet barbeque sauce over his smoked turkey.

  “I needed to get away—from her, from home, from anywhere familiar—and someone told me about Ruidoso. It sounded remote, small, and about twenty years behind the rest of the country—basically everything Tasha wouldn’t like, which made it good enough for me.”

  Keenan expelled
a bark of a laugh.

  Encouraged, Gage continued his story. “I haven’t exactly told you the details of our breakup, have I?” He stabbed at a slice of sausage and dipped it into his jalapeño pinto beans.

  Keenan shook his head, digging his fork into a mound of garlic mashed potatoes. “All you ever grumbled was ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’”

  The sour memory stung. He’d been pretty crummy to his friends, he had to admit. He was relieved he and Keenan had made it past that point.

  “It was right before graduation.” In case Keenan didn’t remember, Gage started from the beginning. “Everyone in my department was bragging about the prestigious firms they’d signed on with, and because I didn’t have any prospects yet, Tasha was getting increasingly nervous.” As his roommate, Keenan had known some of it, but Gage hadn’t shared Tasha’s reaction with him. Gage shrugged his shoulders, mirroring how he’d felt at the time. “I wasn’t too worried yet, but the not knowing was killing her. Every job she wanted me to apply for either sounded boring and required a tie every day or it was in an office in a huge city, and I couldn’t make myself do it. I had feelers out for other kinds of opportunities, leads on jobs in places she wouldn’t even consider but that sounded amazing to me. When I tried to explain to her that it was something I really wanted, she said relationships were partnerships and I wasn’t being much of a partner.”

  “I don’t suppose she saw the irony in that statement, did she?”

  “Exactly. She wasn’t compromising either. Tell me, is it better for one of us to be miserable or to go our separate ways?” Gage let the question linger in the air for a beat while he enjoyed another huge slice of sausage. “Anyway, that’s when she blew up at me, told me I needed to grow up, give up my ‘ridiculous time wasters and accept adult life.’” Seeing some barbeque sauce on his knuckles, he wiped it off on a napkin and then started cutting brisket. “How could I react other than challenge accepted, right?”

  “So a fishing business in Ruidoso.” Kennan nodded. “I can see it.”

  With his friend’s approval, Gage felt even more sure of it. “In fact, it was scheming about how I could show her that I realized I have the perfect name for the place: Konewko’s Canoe Co.”

  Keenan shook his head at the old joke. “I guess it works, if you can convince your new partner it does.”

  With no retort, Gage continued his meal.

  Keenan dug into his cherry cobbler, closing his eyes in satisfaction. “This is good.” He chewed silently for a moment again. “Nothing like Avery’s pie, though. She bakes the most amazing pies.” He had a faraway look and was clearly remembering something, but all it did for Gage was make him feel grumpy. Keenan took another bite and then came back around to Gage. “You still haven’t said much about this partnership lease with Ms. Caley. That didn’t exactly factor into your plan, did it?”

  Gage felt his jaw tighten and his eyes squint in frustration, but then he exhaled, forcing his temper to calm. “I suppose it kind of drains the manliness from it, yeah. I mean, if I’m going to own a business, I want to do it myself. I don’t need someone trying to change things and take over. She’s probably some middle-aged woman who’s been a stay-at-home mom for the past two decades and will now mother-hen me to death since her kids are gone.”

  “Wow,” Keenan said with a laugh. “Careful none of your clientele overhear you saying something like that. It sounds pretty sexist.”

  “Ah, you know I’m not. It has nothing to do with my partner’s sex—or age, for that matter—and everything to do with the fact that I don’t want to relinquish control. Any of it. When I told Martin to make it happen, I didn’t say I wanted a partner. There wasn’t supposed to be any partner. This was supposed to be my business, my way.”

  “Calm down, calm down.” Keenan nodded his head slightly at the family at the next table who’d shot them more than a few curious looks. Maybe Keenan was right. “If you really want this store in this town, then you’ll have to put up with Ms. Caley, but only for a few short months. Prove you deserve the store more than she does and, in the end, the store will be yours free and clear.”

  “So I step in and show her who’s boss, huh?” Gage wasn’t sure that was the best approach. He didn’t want to alienate Ms. Caley and start off on the wrong foot. It would be hard to recover from that, but he also didn’t want to go in weak and forfeit the opportunity to run things his way. Why were there so many head games in business? If only it could be as straightforward as fishing. Or maybe it was—bait her with something she wanted. The thought made him pause.

  “Exactly,” Keenan said. “Go in strong. Don’t give her the chance to take over.”

  “You mean run her off.” Gage didn’t want to be cruel, of course, but if he didn’t have this complication—of a partner—the situation would be more of what he’d pictured when he started this venture.

  “I didn’t say that,” Keenan warned, waving his fork back and forth in the air.

  “But it’s not a bad idea, is it?”

  Keenan shook his head in mock sadness. “You’d better be careful. You’re stuck with her for the next twelve months. You don’t want to make working conditions miserable for either of you.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Gage slurped through his straw. The business world had all types—from the gruff and unyielding to the soft and controllable. The trick was to find out what kind of personality he was dealing with in his new partner and make the most of it. “After the best barbeque on the planet, I’m ready to sign some papers and get this project moving forward.” Gage stood, gathering his trash. “Then I want your input as I draft the first email to my new partner. Help me make sure the tone is right.”

  The paperwork wasn’t a big deal. Martin had sent the documents via email. All he had to do was e-sign. He’d previewed them on his phone when they’d dropped their fishing equipment at his cabin before dinner. Now that he’d had a chance to talk everything through, using Keenan as a sounding board, he was ready. When they got back to his place, Gage pulled out his phone, added his squiggle of a signature to the contract, and sent it back to Martin with an electronic swoosh.

  Done and done.

  The initial email to Ms. Caley, however, was more challenging. Though he’d written scores of business emails over the past years—enough to wallpaper a small mansion, if they’d been printed out—he usually knew at least something about the intended recipient. Knowing nothing this time, he took a stab in the dark, thumbs flying over the handheld screen of his phone, hardly noticing when Keenan left the room to take a call. Gage finished the email, saved it as a draft so he could get Keenan’s feedback, and started stowing the fishing rods in the front closet and unpacking the cooler of trout.

  Chapter 5

  Even before the management of the store changed hands, Brynn didn’t give herself time to remain idle. One thing the store lacked that was absolutely necessary was a website to bring it into the modern day. How would potential customers know there was a place to rent equipment or buy ammo, fishing licenses, or anything else they might need on-site if their store didn’t show up in a simple internet search? Thanks to a graphic design background in college, she had the know-how to develop a professional site, and until the lease agreement closed and Mrs. Bradshaw stepped back from running the store, she had the time.

  The morning after signing the contract, while the sun was still struggling its way over the mountain peaks, Brynn popped out of bed. Although she was excited to work on her intended project, she couldn’t skip her morning workout—it was her happy hour, the best time of the day. In some ways, she still thought of it as her physical therapy regimen from when she was recovering from the ridiculous tibia fracture that never should have happened late last winter. Ever since she’d busted her leg and her Olympic dream on the slopes in February, she’d shifted all her training energies into rehab. Even though she wouldn’t be pursing the Olympics anymore, it didn’t have to be the end of her skiing.

  Bry
nn threw on some running capris and a thin, moisture-wicking, long-sleeved shirt over her T-shirt. Only a few more weeks and she’d be able to get back on the slopes. She’d missed the last month of the ski season the previous spring, languishing on a couch, nearly driven crazy with longing, so now being able to go for a light jog every morning was a pleasure.

  This morning’s plan included some trail running, which would require her knees and ankles to absorb more twists and jarring—the most challenging moves she could think of to push her endurance. She didn’t want to be unprepared when that first blessed snowfall lay thick on the slopes, just waiting for her to swish through the pristine powder.

  As she followed a narrow trail from the periphery of her neighborhood, Brynn wound her way up the steep mountain, thankful for the peaceful start to the day. She appreciated the squat, bush-like junipers, wispy undergrowth, and spongy ground that absorbed noise from the main road’s traffic below. Tall ponderosas shielded buildings, cars, and people from view, leaving her feeling alone in the world, though she was minutes from civilization. It was the perfect setting.

  After a good workout, Brynn descended toward her neighborhood, careful to check her momentum. She pulled back consciously so she wouldn’t outrun her steps as gravity tugged her down the incline. Her quads screamed with fatigue, but it had been a satisfying run. Breaking out of the tree line, she took in the view below. The cluster of homes that included her little duplex was separated from the main street of boutiques by a bubbling stream and a line of pines. Her duplex was within walking distance to the store and other action in the community, and yet offered the feel of being in the wilderness. It was idyllic.

  Sitting on the concrete step at her front door, Brynn leaned against the split-log frame house, resting until her heartbeat slowed. Gentle puffs of a cooling breeze played with the tendrils of auburn hair that fell from her ponytail. The magic of the outdoors glistened around her, and she almost didn’t want to start the rest of day. By the time her sweat disappeared and she was breathing easily again, Brynn felt the day’s next agenda item waiting a little less patiently than before.