Jeannie Watt - To Kiss A Cowgirl

Or had it been subtle?

Whatever, he’d mocked her instead of trying to get on board with ideas that were only meant to help. She needed to come up with a way to bring some customers into the store—and not only to provide herself a more secure future there. She wanted to show him that she wasn’t the screw-up he seemed to think she was. And, damn it, she was going to do that.

A big, slurpy dog kiss awoke her a little after seven o’clock after she’d slept through her alarm and she groaned as she rolled over. Gus took that as an invitation to heave his big body up onto her bed. Since it was a twin bed, Jolie had little choice but to be engulfed with fur or get up.

Grudgingly she chose the latter. It was going to be a long morning at the feed store, but the one bright spot to having gotten next to no sleep was that she had finally come up with a way to bring in some business. An idea that should work.

No. An idea she was going to make work, because she wasn’t going to spend the time until Finn returned being treated like some mindless bimbo who needed constant management.

* * *

JOLIE WAS LATE.

She’d been early every other day this week, but today she was already fifteen minutes late. Dylan wondered if he was going to have to call when her truck roared into the parking lot, swung around the building and parked next to his.

She didn’t notice him standing at the edge of the warehouse bay as she scrambled out, slammed the truck door and then started jogging toward the side entrance. Dylan stayed where he was, debating. Did he want to be a dick about this? No. Things happened. People ran late.

It was just that he had a good idea she was late because she was working her other job and the anal part of him said that his business shouldn’t suffer because she needed another paycheck.

He turned and walked into the warehouse. They both knew why she was late and he assumed it wasn’t a habit. Finn might have liked her as a friend, but he wouldn’t put up with poor job performance.

He walked to the forklift and flipped the ignition. The machine chugged to life and kept running. Dylan climbed aboard and started shifting pallets, making room for a new shipment due later that morning.

A new shipment that he half wondered if they needed.

The store had had no customers so far this morning, with the exception of a woman who’d stopped by with a desperate look on her face, wondering if they had hoof glitter. She was on her way to a rodeo and needed it for her performance. Jolie had been in the back room, so Dylan had delivered the sad news that they didn’t carry hoof glitter.

“Well, do you have hoof black?” she’d asked.

Again he’d shaken his head. “We specialize more in feed and general tack.”

The lady had looked around at the grim interior, nodded, and said thanks just as Jolie came out of the backroom.

“We didn’t have what she needed?”

“Hoof black?”

“Would it kill us to have a few bottles?” she asked.

“Yes,” Dylan said bluntly.

“You’re in a mood.”

“Maybe I have my reasons.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “If my being late is one of the—”

“No.”

“Does your leg hurt? Because of the fall?”

“No.”

She closed her mouth at his second abrupt answer, then when he didn’t say anything else, turned and walked to her computer, her denim skirt accentuating the swing of her hips.

Wisely, given his dark mood, she gave him a wide berth during the few hours before closing, but as soon as he flipped the Open sign around to Closed, he turned to find her standing a few feet behind him, arms folded over her chest, as if she’d been waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

“I’ve been thinking about the hoof black lady...and the slow day.”

“And you want to know why I won’t add a lot of miscellaneous stock?” She raised a shoulder, which he took to be a yes. “Because stock that doesn’t move is money that could be earning interest in the bank.”

“I get what you’re saying. But, Dylan, adding a little more stock might help sales.”

“What exactly do you think we should add?”

She looked as if she’d been waiting for him to say those exact words. “I want to add a few fun things to the inventory.”

“Fun?”

“Well, maybe not as fun as hoof glitter, but things that people, women mostly, might buy on impulse.”

“Like, say...”

“Jewelry.”

He gave a scoffing laugh. “Jewelry.”

“Yes.” She tilted her chin sideways in that stubborn way he knew all too well. “And if we do it right, it won’t cost you anything.”

“How do we do it right?”

“By creating a Western-themed boutique—” she held up a hand as Dylan started to interrupt her “—stocked with commission items. No initial outlay. If it fails, we lose nothing.”

Dylan tried to come up with a reason this wasn’t a good idea...and drew a blank.

“And before you get all negative—”

“You’re pretty sure I’m going to do that?”

“History does tend to repeat itself.”

“I’m not negative... I’m serious. A realist.”

“Well, sometimes, Dylan, it feels good to believe that good things can happen.”

“Where, if I won’t be perceived as negative for asking, do these commissioned items come from?”

“Local artisans.”

“I do not want a bunch of doilies in the store,” he said adamantly.

“There’s nothing wrong 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?”