by Jean Oram
“So every day you’ll fill the orders and send them over?” Burke confirmed.
“Five days a week. There’s no weekend courier.”
A full-time job and orders to fill. Every day.
She could do this, she reminded herself. She was good at organizing things and that’s all this was—an organizational problem. She also had Burke and Ethan watching over things, making sure everything was good. She could handle this. She wouldn’t fail Rebecca. She’d get her that friendship center, and sooner rather than later.
Burke grinned. “So? Are we ready to open this up?”
“What do you mean?”
“This was a beta test to one-tenth of our customers.”
“One-tenth?” Jill said weakly, looking at the numbers again. She had erroneously believed the test had been served to half the customers.
“Expect ten times this. More once the word gets out and some reviews start popping up.”
Jill stared blankly at the bottles of liquor lined up against the mirror behind the bar. The blue bottle of gin was out of place. Kind of like her sanity.
This was going to be a full-time job and she already had one of those at All You.
“Ten times?” She turned back to Burke. “Are you certain?”
“From Scott,” Amy said, placing two bottles of beer in front of Jill and Burke.
“Thanks,” they said, lifting the beer in a toast to the cop, who was over by the jukebox, trying to get it to take his money.
“This was a sample of one-tenth, so yes. I’m sure. Can you handle it?”
She’d be out of stock within a week. She needed help, but could she afford it?
“What?” Burke looked bemused. “I’ve rendered you mute?”
“You’re sure these are accurate?” Jill demanded, checking the pages of numbers again.
Burke laughed. “Isn’t it amazing? If customers like your creams as much as Gully did, you’ll be up to your eyeballs in orders once we get some word-of-mouth going.”
“There might be a slight problem with that.”
Burke took a long pull on his beer, watching her, waiting for her to explain.
“I…handcraft these. From ingredients I pick. I’m not a factory.”
But if she and a new staff of a few helpers could become one…kind of like what she’d originally envisioned with her more aggressive growth proposal last year, she could soon have it all. The loan paid off, the friendship center built at long last.
She was just going to have to let go of some of her control and hire help.
She inhaled slowly. She could let go, right? Letting go didn’t mean sticking her head in the sand like she had with Hayes and the café.
“Can you fill the orders?”
“I can. I just…” She closed her eyes, hands bunched. “I need help.”
“Okay.” He began rolling up his shirtsleeves, revealing his wrist tattoo. Seeing it made her feel like freaking out, and she found herself curling her fingers around her own wrist.
“Okay,” she said softly.
“Well?” He looked like he was ready to push away from the counter and take care of business. Just like he’d promised he would.
She felt the edge of panic. She needed assistance, guidance on how to quickly but reliably expand. But could she let go of some of her control without everything spinning away on her?
“You’re going to help me?” she asked.
“I promised I would.” He was staring at her. “Is that a problem?”
Only in that he was highly distracting. But otherwise, she was certain it would be spectacular.
“I trust you, Burke. So, no. It’s not a problem at all.”
Burke followed Jill out of the pub after she asked Amy to have their meals put on her tab.
“My wife has a tab at the local pub,” Burke said. “I like it.”
“It’s a small town. People do that, you know.”
From the back of her SUV she took a basket and backpack from the hatch.
“What’s in the pack?” he asked.
“Water, trail mix, a rain jacket, extra socks, matches, first aid kit, and bear spray.”
“You’re always prepared, like a—”
“Don’t say it,” she said with a grimace.
“Boy Scout?”
She sighed. “Yeah. That.”
He watched her for a second. “I would have joined the organization if I’d known you were going to be there.”
She shot him a dark look and pushed the pack into his arms. “Come on, we’re losing the warmth of the day as well as the light. This sap I need won’t tap itself.”
“You have a problem being called sexy, don’t you?”
“You didn’t call me sexy,” she said, climbing into her car. He took the passenger seat, and within few minutes they were parking partway up a mountain and tromping along a snowy trail, the pack on his back.
“I like watching your hips sway from back here,” he called to her.
She turned, looking like she wanted to smack him. Well, if you missed the fact that her eyes were shining with gratitude and pleasure. “We’re business partners, buster.”
“Married business partners.” It was fun getting under her skin. It also distracted him from the fact that she’d looked downright panicked at the idea of filling all those orders. That panicked look could pack a lot of implications for his bottom line, as well as his reputation in the business, if he didn’t keep an eye on where it was coming from.
“We need to collect sap for a cream. There’s a nice grove just to the south side of where we are now.”
“Are you trying to distract me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What if the sap won’t come out of the tree?”
“I know how to do this.” She looked over her shoulder. “Are you stressing out?”
“Yes.”
“There’s this thing called the internet. I can order what I need and have it arrive within a week.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“It’s not as fresh, and it’s expensive.”
“What are you going to do on the days when I can’t come and help you?” he asked.
“I’m going to ask Rebecca and her family. They’re already experts on all of this.”
“Sounds smart.”
They continued on in silence as she led him across the mountain.
“What got you to start your company?” she asked, as the trail leveled out and they could stroll side by side. The light was indeed fading and he worried they were going to be hiking home in the dark.
“My aunt. And yours?”
“The elders.”
“Elders?”
“I have some Chippewa blood—not much, though. But the elders weren’t Chipewyan—they weren’t my elders...” She shook her head as though clearing her thoughts, forcing them to fall back in their square-pegged holes. “I’m getting lost in semantics, because they’re everyone’s elders. But it was the Ute people who taught me how to make the creams and soaps. They taught me which plants can provide the medicinal effects I want.”
“Why?”
“Because I helped them pick flowers one day,” she replied simply, almost as though it had been a silly question.
“Tell me more,” he requested gently. She got a faraway look in her eyes and he slipped his gloved hand in hers, hoping she’d share whatever memory was rolling out like a movie in her mind.
She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting to their interlinked hands. “I was up here hiking.”
“Alone?”
She nodded, taking her hand back so she could scramble over an exposed boulder in the middle of the snowy path. She moved like a mountain goat, sure-footed and smooth.
“How old were you?” he asked, once he was over the cold, lichen-covered rock.
“Fourteen.” She inhaled, taking in the alpine meadow they’d strolled into. The setting sun streaming over the evergreens lining the south edge and he guessed that was w
here Jill planned to tap for sap. “My mom and sister were incredibly tight. They were into girlie stuff.”
“And you weren’t?”
“There wasn’t room to be. They’re avid.”
“It seems like you and your dad have a bond.”
“Yeah.” She had a wistful look to her. “I met the elders while he was reinventing himself.”
“Reinventing?”
Jill tried to wave away the subject, but Burke came up alongside her, taking her hand again. That seemed to be all she needed to keep talking. “He was a musician. Mom and Dad were a duo. They had their own band, but Dad got an injury that prevented him from playing regularly. He can still only play half a set before it hurts too much. So after the injury he had to find a new way to support our family. He didn’t have a backup plan.”
Ah. No plan. Was that why Jill was so into them?
“Was it rough?”
“They did a good job of hiding the financial strain, but they fought a lot and then Dad took a ranching job he hated. Then one for the forest fire detection patrol. He was gone a lot.”
Leaving her with the princesses.
“Did you have a boyfriend?” he asked, knowing he’d turned to the girls in his class when he’d felt lonely.
“No, that was Jodi’s thing.”
“I thought that was everyone’s thing.”
“The guys were more interested in her.” Jill was watching her footfalls too closely for the fairly even path they were on. “I played football with them, and she sat in the bleachers and cheered, and hugged them at the end of the game.”
Jill took a deep breath. “Anyway, I was up here one day, and I came across some Ute elders singing, laughing and harvesting. Their voices were so rich…and I just wanted to be nearby and listen.”
She glanced at him as though making sure he wasn’t judging her.
“I followed them all afternoon,” she said, looking embarrassed, “staying hidden in the bushes, eating berries, enjoying being in their presence.”
“You stalked them?”
“Well, no.” Her nose wrinkled adorably before she admitted reluctantly, “Sort of.”
“And then what?”
“Rebecca called me over. I was mortified, but intrigued. They showed me what they were doing and why. I knew that what they were doing was special.”
“How do they feel about you selling products made from their formulas?”
“They suggested it.”
“Do they get a royalty from each sale?”
“They don’t want it.” The flesh between her brows tightened and he wondered what that was about.
Burke paused to take in the glowing mountain peaks above them, reflecting orange from the setting sun. In the distance was the town, behind them the rolling meadow, a deer standing at the opposite end, eating the lower branches off a coniferous tree, unconcerned that they were there.
“Nirvana,” he announced.
“What?” Jill had stopped at a line of evergreens lit up by the setting sun, taking in the open surroundings behind her as though gazing at it all through fresh eyes.
“This,” he said, turning around, his breath coming in clouds, “is my church.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that look for? I believe in nature. Serendipity. Karma.” He held out his arms, finding the crisp evening air bracing, refreshing. “This is what we should protect.”
She was watching him.
“You don’t agree?”
“I do,” she said quickly, taking the pack from him.
“If only I could get paid for being up here,” he said, inhaling deeply.
“Ask Jen Kulak. She runs a guiding business out of the sporting goods store and could use someone in the summers to make sure the hikers don’t fall off the trail or get eaten by bears.”
“Perfect. I’ll send in my résumé.”
“After you sell Sustain This, Honey for big bucks, of course.”
“I really wish I’d named the company something different.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Most people don’t get the name—and for a good reason. I was feeling cheeky and a bit like in-your-face-world right about then, and so when Gulliver suggested it, I went with it. I had a lot of ideals.”
“You said your aunt got you started?”
“She egoed me into it.”
“Is that a real word? Egoed?”
“She appealed to my ego, pushing me into action. It’s a verb. I was pretty pleased with myself. Then I almost lost…”
“What?”
The company. My employees. My chance to make a difference.
All because he’d believed Neila loved him. That he was capable of giving her what she needed—other than his company, which was all she’d seemed to want in the first place.
“Nothing,” he said casually. “It’s all good.”
“No, it’s not.” Jill stopped unpacking the supplies she needed from the bag—there was more in there than just her previously listed safety gear, he noted. She reached over and squeezed his hand, playing his earlier game where he’d done the same when trying to get her to open up.
He smiled. It wasn’t happening. Nope.
She was wordlessly demonstrating what to do to collect the sap. He crouched beside her, helping.
“I feel responsible,” he blurted out.
“For the planet?”
“For my staff.” He could feel the stress emanating off him, the heat from the setting sun on his back. “They need me, the job, the company. And it isn’t easy making money the honest way, the right way.”
She placed a hand on his cheek, cupping it. She said nothing as his eyes searched hers.
He dipped his head down, not wanting her to see this part of him, the part that could fail, or break.
9
Jill kept finding herself staring out the window of her All You office the week after her hike with Burke. He’d been so real and almost vulnerable. She’d wanted to pull him into her arms and tell him it was all going to be okay. Which would have been silly. The man was fine and could own the world. He didn’t need her reassurances.
Especially when she was in the process of trying to scale her life for the big time, thanks to his help.
She already had Rebecca producing more product for her, and she’d brought her son, Joseph, on board as well. Jill felt responsible for them, and couldn’t imagine the pressure Burke must feel being responsible for so many more. He cared so deeply about each and every one of his employees, as though they were family. The stories he’d told her as they’d hiked down the mountain in the growing dusk had made them feel so real to her it was like she’d already known them for years. From Gulliver and his steadfast loyalty, to Andrea and her dry humor.
Jill had also felt connected to Burke. She’d never told a soul about spying on the Ute elders all those years ago, but she’d told him. She had to admit she was drawn to Burke, and his newly revealed side made her love him. Just a little bit.
Jill sighed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relive his goodbye kiss. He’d gently placed his hands over her hips, his fingers spanned as the two of them had gazed at each other. Speaking without speaking.
And then he’d thanked her for the afternoon before wetting his lips and—
“Uh-oh.”
Jill’s eyes flew open as she jolted out of her reverie to find her boss watching her.
“Someone’s a smitten kitten.” Emma smiled and set a slice of chocolate pie in front of her. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone. It’s Leif’s chocolate maven pie.”
“What? How did you get a piece? He stopped making this when Benny’s Big Burger burned down.” Jill lifted the fork and dived into the dessert. She closed her eyes as the rich chocolaty flavors rolled over her tongue like a fond memory. Leif’s pie used to be the top of her best-thing-ever list, but after Burke’s goodbye kiss, it was just a mere second place.
“Leif promised me free pie for life if I convinced L
ily to rebuild the restaurant after the fire.” Emma smiled and perched on the edge of Jill’s desk, obviously satisfied with herself.
“Well done. The women of Blueberry Springs thank you. However, our waistlines do not.”
“Are you kidding me? You have some serious va-va-voom now that you’ve got a little bit of junk in your trunk. No wonder Burke can’t keep his eyes off of you.”
“Don’t lie,” Jill said, feeling pleased.
And yet she couldn’t help but feel a burst of apprehension. She was daydreaming about a man who didn’t want marriage. It was like high school, when she’d been set up by Mandy, who had convinced her that Scott Malone was interested and was waiting for her to ask him out. He hadn’t been. He’d been interested in Jodi.
Jill still got hot with embarrassment thinking about how she’d asked him out when his gaze kept trailing over her shoulder toward Jodi. He’d looked at her when she was finished and said, “You’re Jill, right?”
She’d nodded.
“Sorry, I’m interested in someone else.”
He had dated Jodi for three months before Jill’s twin tired of him and moved on.
“What’s up with you two, anyway?” Emma asked, ruffling her pixie cut. “You guys got married in secret but are living apart?”
“That’s about it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Speaking of getting married in secret, is Lily okay?” The woman had eloped with Ethan as part of a business deal regarding her new restaurant—which he had owned at the time. The marriage hadn’t been meant as anything more than an exchange of assets. It had turned into true love, as if Cupid was hiding somewhere around Blueberry Springs, striking unsuspecting pretend lovers with his arrows.
Jill froze. She had a pretend lover…
No. Cupid was not interested in her and Burke.
“Why wouldn’t she be okay?” Emma asked. “Is she pregnant?”
“What? Is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Blueberry Springs is getting to you.”
Emma had grown up in a city in the South, but was fitting right in to small town life, as if it was her birthright.
“I was just thinking that after being trapped in the burning building like that…” Jill shivered. “I can’t imagine rebuilding on the same site. It has to bring back some haunting memories.”