Page 7 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

Amelia nodded, her professional mask sliding back into place. But as she turned to her computer, I caught something in her expression—vulnerability, maybe. Or fear. The same look she’d had when I’d caught her after that ski slope fall all those years ago.

I had a feeling we were both in over our heads and not just with saving the resort.

“Let’s break down the immediate priorities,” I said, settling into the chair across from her. My laptop screen glowed with spreadsheets and projections, but I found myself distracted by the way she tucked her hair behind her ear—a nervous habit she’d had since debate club. Some things never changed, even if everything else had.

“First thing has to be the ski equipment,” she said, pulling up her files. Outside her window, I could see the slopes where I’d learned to ski, where Dad had taught Taylor and me properform. “Winter season starts in three months, and we can’t afford another disaster like last year.”

I nodded, making notes while ignoring how the morning light played across her features. “What’s your current rental inventory looking like?”

“Fifty pairs of skis, thirty snowboards, all at least four years old.” She grimaced, and I remembered how Pine Haven used to pride itself on having the valley’s best beginner equipment. “The boots are even worse.”

“And your competitors?”

She pushed back from her desk, frustration clear in every line of her body. “Crystal Mountain got all new equipment last season. They’re offering custom fittings, high-end demos...” Her voice carried the same edge I’d heard whenever she talked about them at family gatherings.

I ran quick calculations in my head, already mapping out industry contacts. “Here’s what we do. Instead of competing head-to-head with Crystal Mountain’s inventory, we focus on families and beginners. Quality starter equipment, excellent instruction, package deals that include lessons.”

“With what money?” She challenged, but I caught the spark of interest in her eyes—the same look she’d get before presenting a winning argument.

“I know suppliers who owe me favors. We might work out a revenue-sharing arrangement instead of upfront purchases.” I paused, watching her process this. “The key is positioning. We’re not trying to be Crystal Mountain. We’re offering something different—a more personal, less intimidating experience for new skiers.”

Amelia leaned back, studying me with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “You’ve thought this through.”

“It’s what I do.” I shrugged, trying to maintain professional distance. “Marketing isn’t just about flashy ads. It’s aboutunderstanding what makes a business special and building on that.”

“And what makes Pine Haven special?” Her tone was challenging, but I heard the genuine question underneath.

I met her gaze steadily. “You do.”

The words hung between us, heavy with implication. A slight flush colored her cheeks, reminding me of how she’d looked during that last dance. She glanced down at her papers, but not before I caught the flash of something vulnerable in her eyes.

“I mean,” I continued, forcing my voice to stay professional despite my racing heart, “your connection to this place, your dedication to the staff and community—that’s what sets Pine Haven apart. We need to make that part of the brand.”

“Hunter...” She sighed, and I could hear the weight of our history in that single word. Years of almost-moments at family gatherings, of conversations that ended too soon. “This will not work if you—”

“If I what?”

“If you keep...” She gestured vaguely between us, not quite meeting my eyes. “This. The compliments, the intense looks. We need to keep this strictly professional.”

I leaned forward, choosing words with the same care I used in board meetings. The smart move would be to agree to maintain that safe distance. But I was tired of playing it safe where Amelia was concerned. “And if I don’t want to?”

Her eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise. “What?”

“Come on, Amelia. We can’t pretend there isn’t something here.” My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced myself to continue. “Every time I see you at family events, every dance at weddings, every casual conversation—there’s always been this... tension.”

“Stop.” She stood abruptly, moving to the window where morning light painted her silhouette in gold. “We can’t do this. Not now. There’s too much at stake.”

I followed, keeping a careful distance, though every instinct urged me closer. Through the window, I could see the ski slopes where we’d first met, where I’d watched her grow from Taylor’s shy friend into the force of nature she was today. “You’re right. The resort has to come first. But Amelia...” I waited until she turned to face me. “We can’t ignore this forever.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, a defensive gesture that tugged at my heart. I remembered seeing her stand just like this at her mom’s funeral, wanting to comfort her but not knowing how.

“I’m not ignoring anything. I’m being practical.” Her voice wavered slightly. “This partnership—whatever this is—has to work. Pine Haven needs it to work.”

“It will,” I assured her, fighting the urge to reach out. Dad’s voice echoed in my memory:Sometimes helping means knowing when to step back.“I promised to help save the resort, and I will. But I won’t pretend I don’t feel what I feel.”

A knock at the door made us both jump. Sophie appeared, mercifully oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “Ms. Horton? The contractors are here about the snow machines.”

“Thank you, Sophie.” Amelia’s professional mask slipped back into place with practiced ease. I wondered how often she’d hide her fears behind that smile. “I’ll be right there.” She turned to me, her voice carefully neutral. “We should table this discussion and focus on the recovery plan.”

---