“Fine,” he clips out. “Convince me. You have thirty seconds.”
“Finley is one of the hardest workers I’ve ever met. She’s smart, dependable, and she understands loyalty. She would do anything for her family and the people she cares about.”
“Well, that’s great for her and her family, Archer, but it’s not enough for me.”
My mind trips over possibilities and ideas and then lands on something that just might work. “Finley’s a former Olympic-level ice skater.” True enough. “We’ll build a rink on the property. She’s already certified to teach kids and teens; she does it every weekend, group and individual classes. It’s a win.”
He's silent, and I stare out the front window while Nora navigates us through rush-hour traffic.
“Why would you do this to me?” he says eventually.
“Oliver,” I open my mouth to spout off another argument for Finley, but what comes out is, “I love her.”
The words shoot into the air and then sink into my skin with the truth of it. They feel right. Solid. Pure.
I love her.
It’s too fast, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
“What?” he groans. “Not this again.”
“What do you mean again? I’ve never—”
“Not you. I had to compromise on another deal last year with Guy Chapman because of a woman. It’s like men become incapable of logical functioning because their dicks take over. Love doesn’t exist. There’s lust and hormones, and that’s it.”
“Guy Chapman, the chef?”
“Yes, Guy Chapman, the chef. He and that cupcake woman are all over each other. They asked me to be in their wedding next month.” He releases a beleaguered sigh.
I know Guy Chapman peripherally, through Oliver and other business associates.
I also know that Guy has custody of his two young sisters, which means he might enjoy doing something for the camp too.
The idea blossoms, growing in scope.
What if they turn the camp into more than a camp? Into a way to teach real skills to these kids—skills that are both fun and functional and teach them something they can potentially use the rest of their lives? We have sports covered, ice sports, anyway, then maybe culinary . . . we could add other skills and areas of interest. The property is large enough that we could even open a student-run restaurant and teach the kids how to manage money, run a cash register, basic business-operating skills for the older kids. My mind races with the possibilities. We could sell tickets for skating events and hockey games to help with funding.
“I’m not sharing,” Oliver says. “Love is irrelevant in business. Come up with a new idea. And don’t forget to work Piper’s art into it. I want a full show with completely original pieces.”
He hangs up again.
I slide my phone into my pocket.
“You love her.” Nora’s tone is smug.
“Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No.” She grins over at me before navigating a left-hand turn. “I knew almost as soon as I met Jess. Sometimes, you meet someone, and things just click.”
She parks, and we grab our bags and head into the hotel.
Nora turns to me when we’re walking through the lobby. “Want to meet down here in an hour for dinner?”
I pull out my phone and check it for a missed text from Finley for the thousandth time.
Nothing.
“Yeah. Dinner in an hour sounds great.”