My books.
Tears clogged my throat every time I thought about it.
Maverick motioned us onto the couch once their chatter died, and I realized I’d frowned at the floor for an awkward amount of time. JJ and Mark sat together, across from us.
Mark leaned forward and looked right at me. “Lizbeth, I’m glad you’re all right. But that’s not the only reason we came.”
“Oh?”
Mark’s gaze flickered to Maverick before returning to me. “I know everything is crazy right now, but once it settles down, I want to offer you a job.”
“A job?”
“I need help in the worst way.”
After a moment of astonished silence, I asked, “What kind of help?”
“Today I pitched my spa idea to some local investors, and they’re excited about it. But I need a little more backing. The bank may be willing to make up the leftovers if I can’t pull enough support, but I want to try a different route first. I need to be able to focus on that while . . . other things are taken care of.”
It didn’t take a degree in computer programming to know what he needed. “You need websites.”
And a live-in maid. A hairdresser would be welcome, and so would an interior designer, but I’d tack that on later.
“Among other things,” he said.
“What other things?”
“I need everything I have now organized online. Up until today, I’ve lived and breathed paper because I like to feel and see it. My mind remembers contracts and information better when it’s tactile.” He put a hand to his head. “If I can see something and touch it, I never forget it. But . . . well, let’s say the fire at the Frolicking Moose made me realize that our own building isn’t so young and I have nothing backed up.”
He shrugged as if to say, What do you do?
The disaster that was his desk flitted to mind. If all his business records were there, only on paper, he absolutely could lose everything.
“Okay.”
“For all the paperwork you saw while you were at our place, there’s more. A few boxes in the spare bedroom. Then, of course, we need help moving to a digital presence as much as possible. Website redesign for Adventura. A new website for the spa, if it happens. Some online processes, that kind of thing. While you’re waiting to hear back from your other job, this could be something you put on your résumé. Right?”
JJ shifted uneasily. He must have told Mark about Pinnable and felt awkward about it now, but I didn’t mind. Mark’s offer wasn’t half-bad.
“How much?” Maverick asked.
I fought not to roll my eyes.
Guess what? I wanted to say. I got this. I even went to college on my own. Maverick stepping into a fatherly role had probably saved Ellie and me from becoming our mama. But at moments like this, I just wanted him to back off. The prospect of living here again seemed suddenly suffocating.
“Forty dollars an hour,” Mark said.
Mav said nothing, but his poker face nearly broke. His lack of rebuttal was silent approval. My own astonishment gave me pause. Did Mark have that kind of money? Mark, who aspired to be a mountain man?
They must have more going on than I thought.
“This is easy work, Mark,” I said. “Website design is more specialized, of course, but the cataloguing and uploading of your records is assistant-level stuff. Why would you pay me that much when you could get people to do it for fifteen dollars an hour?”
“For your flexibility and . . . you’d probably need to stay at Adventura. Rent-free, of course. There are so many papers, files, folders, and more that you’d need to ask me about in order to categorize them correctly. I don’t want to send that away, because things could get lost. I need more control over this project than that. Plus, I want to be part of the website development. Trying to do this remotely would only be frustrating. I can’t get anyone who would be willing to move to Adventura in the winter and work for fifteen dollars an hour, even with housing thrown in.”
Ah, the clincher. I silently agreed that being in person was ideal if he truly had that much paperwork, but the idea of living in the wilderness, cut off from civilization, my sisters, and my brand-new nephew, was far from appealing. The Baileys used pillowcases for drapes.
Plus, the chances of befriending mice was too high for comfort.
“How many hours a week?” Mav asked.
I glared at him. He held up two hands as if to say he’d back off. I turned to Mark.
“What sort of schedule?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Until it’s done. Work fourteen hours a day if you want. My only deadline for it is the end of the year. Oh, I also promised investors an online dashboard. I’d like to create one, then link it to the website.”
Could be complicated, depending on how many layers he wanted, but intriguing all the same. That kind of complexity might work in my favor.
Assuming full-time work, self-employment taxes, and a few other considerations . . . I quickly calculated the math. It would help offset the cost of today. Laptop, phone, clothes. Those would have to be replaced, not to mention the debt that had followed me home from college.
“And you think I’m going to be okay with her staying with two thirty-year-old men?” Maverick asked, his voice deepening an octave.
I ground my teeth.
Did he remember that I spent four years at college without him?
“Three,” JJ said. “Justin lives there too. He’s our full-time maintenance man and pops in and out.”
Maverick glowered. I could have sworn Mark shoved his heel into JJ’s toes, but neither of their expressions changed.
“You deserve to know,” JJ said to me.
“Snow White would live in her own cabin in the woods.” Mark’s charming grin covered the sudden tension in the room. “I will vouch for
