“She’s right, you know. You’re afraid of letting someone in and losing control. Always have been.” Nellie reached for her mug. “It’s cost you in the past, sugar, but this time it might cost you everything. Make up with Jessa and see if she has any good ideas. I’d hate to see Big Package Outfitters go the same way as the other businesses in Hard Timber that couldn’t adapt to change.”
I wouldn’t let that happen. My family had been living off the land around Hard Timber long before chain stores and commercial development threatened our way of life. And if I had anything to say about it, we’d be there a hell of a lot longer after their neon signs faded away. “Have a good day, Nellie.”
“Think about it, hon.” She lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave.
I’d think about it alright. But I could guarantee my thoughts would revolve a lot less around how Jessa might be able to help me change the business and more on how it might feel to finally get my hands on her.
CHAPTER 2
JESSA
I spent most of the night trying to come up with other ideas on how I could build out my resume without working with Harlan. But after bingeing an entire sharing-size bag of peanut butter M&Ms, which was nowhere near big enough to share with anyone, and downing two glasses of huckleberry wine I’d found inside one of my dad’s kitchen cabinets, I hadn’t been able to think of another way.
Being back in Hard Timber was humiliating. I thought when I’d left for college that I’d be gone for good. Leaving my tiny hometown behind me was step one in a long list of goals I’d written down in elementary school. Step two was supposed to be graduating from college and finding a job in the city. It didn’t even matter which one. I was willing to go anywhere as long as it was miles and miles away from Hard Timber, Montana.
But now I was back, living at my dad’s—a man who’d barely acknowledged me when I depended on him and flat out ignored me now—sleeping in the same bedroom where I’d grown up, and trying to figure out a way to escape… again.
Unfortunately for both me and Harlan, my best shot of getting out of Hard Timber was to help him secure a future for Big Package Outfitters. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was used to doing hard things. I’d grown up with three older brothers who looked at me like I was always the weakest link and a dad who barely bothered to look at me at all. Underestimating me came naturally to all the men in my life, including Harlan. I’d prove myself to him and to everyone else, then get out of town before summer ended.
Satisfied to have a plan, I pulled into a spot in front of Hard Timber Outfitters in my dad’s old work truck. The store hadn’t opened yet, so I grabbed my coffee and peered through the front window while I braced myself for another run-in with Harlan.
It had been a while since I’d been inside. The whole place looked more like an old-fashioned bunker than an outdoor gear store. While I got a head start making mental notes of everything that needed to be changed, which was literally everything, Harlan rounded the corner of the building, his giant mastiff by his side.
“What are you doing here?” He wasn’t happy to see me, not that I expected anything different. Bubbles was interested, though. The big dog sauntered over and nudged my hand with his massive head.
“Hey, Bubbles.” I got a serious kick out of Harlan having a giant dog named Bubbles. He’d tried to rename him after he brought him home from the rescue, but Bubbles was either too lazy or not quite bright enough to figure out the name change. I didn’t need to lean over very far to look him in the eye. “How do you stand living with someone who doesn’t know how to smile?”
“Does he look like a dog who complains very often?” Harlan grumbled.
“He looks like a dog who’s been bribed with your homemade jerky to put up with you.”
Harlan pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door. “Works on more than dogs, sweetheart.”
I would have let the sarcasm fly if I didn’t need his help as much as he needed mine. “Don’t hold your breath.”
He let out a gruff laugh, more in irritation than in humor. “Seriously, Jessa. Why the hell are you here?”
I pulled myself up to my full height, which still left me more than a foot shorter than him, and pasted on a patronizing smile. “I’m here for my first day of work.”
“That’s funny. I don’t remember hiring you.”
I followed him into the store. Ugh. The scent of dust, damp canvas, and stale air settled over me, like he hadn’t cracked a window or changed up his displays in the past twenty years. Undeterred, I forged ahead. My first goal was to convince him he needed me more than I needed him.
“When’s the last time you vacuumed in here?” I wrinkled my nose as I set my travel mug down on the counter. The hot pink glittery tumbler couldn’t look more out of place.
Harlan ignored me.
I walked around, taking in the neglected, stagnant vibe he had going on. This was going to be more work than I anticipated. There was nothing welcoming or inviting at all. The utilitarian setup fostered a sense of getting in and getting out as quickly as possible instead of encouraging browsing. I was going to have my work cut out for me.
“We should probably start by redoing the window displays,” I said.
On the left, a mannequin in neon orange stood like it was guarding the door, layered in three different types of camo, none of them matching. The tag dangling from the jacket zipper had curled at the edges, the ink so faded I had to squint to read it. A fishing net hung behind it, tangled with a sun-bleached poster of a guy who looked like he’d just walked off the set of a 2004 Bass Pro catalog shoot.
The display on the right was even worse. A half-collapsed tent sat under a mounted elk rack so massive it blocked the view of anything else. Next to it, a vintage camp stove provided a backdrop for a stack of lanterns and a “Don’t Touch the Gear” sign scrawled in black marker.
“There’s nothing wrong with those displays.” He moved behind the counter and opened up the register.
“Nothing wrong?” My laugh came out sharp and dismissive. “They look like scenes that should be set in a museum of stuff your great grandpa might have used.”
