Page 24 of Fresh Tracks
I knew TJ had money. I mean he’s a rockstar, or retired rockstar, or whatever he’s calling himself. I know he has the amazing houses all over the place, but an eight figure charitable donation is so rare. I never got to work with donors, individuals or corporations, anywhere remotely close to being that large. Our biggest donor at Wasatch Wishes was a one time donor for a million dollars and they were handled by our founders.
“I don’t see how it's a full time job to manage this for you. We’d spend a few months picking the charities and disbursing the funds, but then what work would be left?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t clear.” His voice is steady and he still has that calm, matter-of-fact presence. “I give roughly that much,every year. So let’s consider this a trial run. Jake had to handle the end of year donations, but I could use his focus on some other projectsthis year. So you could work on making a plan for this year and see how we could be doing better.”
Reality sets in that he’s very serious about this and it might actually be a real job, not a pity offer. It also might be something I enjoy, and I’m good at. I spent so much time working on finding donors and keeping them. We were an established cause too. Everything we did was tied to getting kids exposure to the outdoors. For once, I'd be looking for other causes that would interest me… well I guess TJ technically. It’s his money after all.
“A trial run? What? Are you afraid I won't do a good enough job?” I finally answer.
What is wrong with me? Why did I just antagonize him when he’s offering me what really is a fantastic opportunity? I should know better than to piss off the universe when it’s dropping job offers from retired rock gods into my lap.
A muscle ticks in his jaw and he folds his arms across his chest, showcasing those damn forearms again. “No. I’m afraid you won’t like working with me and Jake.”
“So tell me more about thisJake. Is that like your alter ego? Dr. Tommy and Mr. Jacob?” I ask, holding my hand to my chin looking as inquisitive as possible. Also, does he really think I’d reject a serious offer from him? The time at The Chairlift was one thing, but this time I can tell he’s serious.
He rolls his eyes and looks back at me. “Jake is my brother from foster care. I told you he works for me.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had any siblings,” I say, slightly shocked. He’s opening up to me, something he’s not known for and I don’t take that lightly. I sit up a little taller in my seat at that realization. “Wow. Talk about unfortunate names, Jake Jacob. But still this all sounds great. I just have one last question. Why me? I told you, I’m not a charity case.” Maybe part of me is being self-indulgent, hunting for a compliment or some kind of validationfrom him. But I do genuinely want to know why on earth he wants to hireme.
His eyes narrow and his lips shift into a frown. “First, it’s not charity. It just seems like good karmic timing. You needed a job and Jake wants me to donate even more in the future. Second, Jacob isn’t his last name but that’s beside the point.”
Karmic timing. I think he already has me sold with that. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.
He must sense my optimism because his frown disappears when he unfolds his arms and grabs his iced coffee. “You have more experience with non-profits than Jake and me combined. Sure, we give a lot of money. But I’ve never been able to be as involved as I want and stay anonymous at the same time.”
He takes a sip before a smug grin spreads across his face. “And in case you haven't noticed, I try to surround myself with good people. I’ve hired both of your brothers over the years, the Sterlings — Sutton and Slade. I like people I can trust.” He tilts his drink toward me, emphasizing the last two words. “Like you.”
Something about those two words from him feels like such a compliment. I might have been playfully looking for words of validation from him, but to hear that from someone I know values his privacy so much feels different. It feels more validating than anything else he’s said this entire conversation. It feels intimate and personal.
“I’ll do it,” I say without hesitation, feeling sure of myself and him.
I can practically see his body relax at my words, a wide, unrestrained smile spreading across his face. I can’t help but notice that it’s not the same smile that he showed around my brother and V or my grandparents the other night. This one is almost sheepish with a hint of boyish charm. Both of his dimples flare in a way that’s both endearing but also impossible to lookaway from.
His soulful eyes peer into mine and I can feel my skin heat under his gaze. He’s been hanging on my every word for this entire chance run-in today, just like he did at the reception, but this feels different. Between his presence and the look in his eyes, I cross my legs, trying to ignore my body's reaction.
I feel like we're lost in this stalemate for way too long before a deep, playful voice cuts the silence. “You're an ass. I can’t believe you unleashed Kelsey on me like that.”
We both look up to see Sutton Sterling, Gloria’s chef who catered the wedding, rounding the corner from the front room and glaring right at TJ. “Did I miss anything good?”
TJ looks both irritated with his friend and almost giddy at the same time. “Just that I hired Grace over here finally.”
Sutton grins back at him before turning to me, holding out his drink for a mid-air toast. “Hell yeah, welcome to Team TJ.”
What did I just get myself into?
CHAPTER 10
GRACE
FRESH TRACKS
It doesn’t matterwhat is going on in my life, this feeling never gets old. Waking up early to get to the mountain and get in the lift line before eight, when they don't even open for another hour, probably sounds horrible to most people that don’t ski. Throw in the fact that today, it’s below freezing with gusty winds. But on a powder day like this, when it dumped almost ten inches of fresh snow overnight, there’s no place I’d rather be.
I love chasing storms to catch a powder day. It’s part of why I got my van in the first place. Utah gets great snow. Sometimes though, you have to go on a little adventure if you want to find the best untracked, fresh snow.
It might sound silly to anyone that didn’t grow up loving the sport but for me, there’s nothing like the rush of laying down fresh tracks on the mountain. Those elusive first runs in pristine untouched, knee deep powder. Floating through the snow down a steep slope is pure bliss. The satisfaction of skiing down a run and looking back up the mountain to see my tracks like brush strokes on an untouched canvas. It never gets old.
Fortunately, Josie feels the same way. She has skied with me —run for run, turn for turn — all morning. It’s Sunday and some might be at church, but this is our place of worship.
