I mimicked the bizarre mating dance of the creature I’d encountered.
“Are you having a seizure?” asked Noah. He turned to Maya. “If she passes out, I’m not the one doing mouth-to-mouth.”
“Ew. Gross,” I agreed. “I’d rather get slobbered on by Yeti.”
“That can be arranged,” said Noah. In the corner, Yeti cocked her ear.
“The point is,” I said. “I can do this. I don’t want to do this, but I can do this. Probably. I think.”
“Don’t you see Noah? That’s the spin. The naïve, inexperienced city girl sampling authentic Colorado experiences. The uninformed outsider making a fool of herself for everyone to see.”
“Whose side are you on, exactly, anyway?” I asked.
“Whoever’s side I need to be on to make this work.” Maya pointed at my purple pom-pom beanie. “That’s exactly what this whole video series would be about.”
“That and my reputation being dragged through the mud when she hooks herself with a fishing line.”
I adjusted my beanie in the window’s reflection, pulling it lower on my ears. “I don’t know why everyone has such a problem with my accessorizing today,” I muttered.
“Or when she falls off a horse. Or gets swept down a river rapid.”
“I can hear you, you know,” I reminded him.
“Good.”
Maya took a deep breath, rubbed at her temples. “Look, I know you don’t want to work with us.”
“With LuxeLife,” he corrected. “Nothing personal against you, Maya. Everything you’ve done for me, my crew, that’s the only reason we’re even talking about this.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it could work. And it might be the last chance I get to help save what you’ve built here.”
Noah ran another hand through his perpetually disheveled hair. In one single swipe, he somehow made an entire head of hair look perfect, not a single strand out of place. His head dropped slightly, followed by his shoulders. “What’s the catch then? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Victoria’s going to want tangible results. Occupancy rates. Revenue increases. Repeat booking trends. Things won’t magically improve overnight.
“She’s setting us up to fail.”
“Not necessarily” I said, stuffing the beanie back in my pocket. “I did a campaign for a budget hotel chain last year. Increased their bookings by thirty percent. In just three months.”
“That’s … incredible Sam.” At least Maya seemed impressed. Noah … eh.
“I’m actually good at my job, Noah. And that was for aplace that had bedbugs in half the rooms. We just didn’t mention those in the posts.”
For the first time, Noah seemed to really look at me. Non-judgementally. Well, okay, it was still judgmental, but … more curiosity than contempt.
“Something tells me your usual audience isn’t our target demographic.” Noah gestured around the room. “How many of your fans own hiking boots that have actually touched dirt?”
“Followers. They’re called followers.” I made a conscious effort not to look down at my new pair of pristine white boots. I’d been carefully avoiding all dirt-related surfaces since Maya had let me pick them out from the mountain leisure boutique at the resort.
“That’s really the whole point,” said Maya. “Sam exposes your adventures to people who wouldn’t normally consider them. Make the wilderness accessible and appealing to a wider audience. Show them that an authentic Colorado experience is worth getting their boots dirty for.”
“And if I say no?” he asked.
Maya’s professional smile faltered. “Then the Adventure Center closes as scheduled. Jenn goes back to Alaska. Diego goes back to Florida. I check my 401k balance every couple of hours until I can retire. And you … you go do whatever it is that you do.”
Noah’s jaw tightened as he looked around the room, taking in all the history, the memories, the life that had been built there. I found myself following his gaze, seeing the place through his eyes, not just as an old, repurposed barn, but as a legacy. One worth fighting for.
“So that’s it? I either play tour guide to Insta-whatever, Face-thingy Princess here, or lose everything?”
