with doilies...but I was thinking along the lines of...other things.”
“What kinds of things?”
“I can show you examples.” She walked behind the counter and dug into her bag, coming up with her phone. She turned it on and started flipping through photos.
“Here—this wine rack looks cool. And there are these cow-themed photo frames. I thought some pottery might be nice...” Her voice trailed off as she took a long, hard look at him. “I’m talking to myself, aren’t I?”
“Jolie, I have enough to do trying to run the part of the store that I know works.”
“It doesn’t work, Mr. Realist,” Jolie said. “We need customers. This might bring people in—just like it does in the bigger ranch stores.”
Dylan shook his head. “I don’t—”
Jolie pointed a finger at him. “I know you don’t. And you won’t.”
“This is my grandfather’s business.”
“And that means you’re going to run it the way it’s always been run come hell or high water?”
“I don’t want a freaking boutique in my feed store.”
“One month.”
“What?”
“Give me one month. We’ll see if the customer base increases.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’ll do everything. All you have to do is allow me the space.”
“You can get people—artisans—to sign on for one month?”
The corners of her mouth lifted in a slow smile. “I can do anything.”
The way she said it made him believe her. “What happens after the trial period,” Dylan asked, “if the customer base doesn’t increase?”
“I send everything back to the artisans and thank them for their time. However, I think the bigger question is what happens if it does increase.”
“I have more money in the till?”
She stared at him as if waiting for the correct answer.
“You want a raise?”
She slowly shook her head. “No. If the customer base increases, you are going to admit to me that I was right.”
“All right,” he said slowly, sensing there was more.
“And you are taking me out on the town. Wherever I want to go. Whatever I want to do.”
He frowned deeply even as something kicked inside him at the thought of going out with Jolie. “Why?”
“Maybe, for once, I’d like to call the shots.” She smiled darkly. “And I need to warn you... I am not a cheap date.”
DYLAN LEANED AN elbow on the counter. “Why do I get the feeling that this is more about making me pay for past crimes than you getting to call the shots?”
She glanced at her fingernails. “Maybe they’re one and the same.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She looked up, her green eyes lit with...something. “But you know...” she said slowly, “this might be good for you.”
“How so?”
“You need to loosen up. Stop analyzing every facet of your life.”
“And you can help me with that?”
“Being loose is my forte.” Dylan’s lips automatically quirked and Jolie rolled her eyes. “Not what I meant.”
“And there go my fantasies.”
Where in the hell had that come from?
It was those damned garter belts. Even Jolie looked a little surprised at his unexpected words. No, she looked a lot surprised. And she called him on it.
“Do you care to explain that comment?”
Scrambling for an answer, since he couldn’t exactly say “garter belts,” Dylan countered with, “Can you explain why you say half the things you say to me?”
“To put you off-kilter.”
“That’s why I said it.” He hoped. He waited a beat then asked, “Did it work?”
“Yes. I was definitely thrown off my game for a few seconds.”
“I’ll have to do more of that.”
“I’ll have to do the same.”
Back on safe ground.
“Could make for an interesting few months.”
“Is that what you want, Dylan? An interesting couple of months?”
The question gave him pause. He’d come home to help out Finn and Mike, to plot out his future and to try to put the past behind him. Pretty much the last thing he’d been looking for was “interesting,” but he wouldn’t mind being distracted. For the first time in his life he didn’t have an immediate goal and it made him edgy. Being loose was not his forte.
“I don’t know what I want,” he said honestly.
“I know what I want. I want to class this place up and I want to start by putting in a gift store.”
Dylan gritted his teeth, wondering how she’d managed to circle around so smoothly while he was still trying to get a foothold. “One month.” Her face brightened. “Increase our customer base in one month.” And he’d figure out a way to let Mike know that change was afoot without having him come unglued.
Jolie cocked her head. “On second thought, that’s not enough time.”
Dylan fought with himself then decided it was easier to give in. She’d probably lose interest after a few weeks and he’d never have to break the news to his grandfather. Jolie had never had a lot of follow-through.
“Two months,” he finally said. “Max.”
“I can agree to two.”
He smirked at her. “Generous, considering you asked for one.”
“But the time doesn’t start until I have a display area and the artisans are contracted. Right?”
“Depends on how long you take doing that,” he said before he turned and headed for the door, making his escape while he could. He needed some quality time with the forklift.
Dylan blew out a breath as he crossed to the warehouse. He was all for more business, but it had to be business that meant something to him, not just people popping in to buy a trinket...not that he believed that anyone was going to be trinket shopping in a feed and seed store. And, truthfully? He didn’t believe there would ever be a commissioned gift shop in Culver Ranch and Feed.
He rolled up the warehouse door instead of the main door and walked inside when Marcel, the big orange cat that patrolled the premises, shot past the forklift. Marcel was usually invisible, preferring to do his patrolling under the cover of darkness. The cat poked his head out from between two pallets then disappeared again.
That reminded Dylan. He had to call another of his grandfather’s friends to try to find homes for most of Mike’s livestock. If he couldn’t find them homes, then he was going to have to come up with a solution as to what to do with a couple of goats, a dry milk cow and several barn cats. The chickens and ducks—the easy animals to give away—would go with Mike to his new house. The cats were too wild to move. The place wasn’t zoned for goats and cows.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone number he’d written on the sticky note