And he’d never let on to Cam, not once, not even the smallest complaint. Cam didn’t know what to do with that, with knowing exactly how badly he’d failed his brother.
Running a marina, even a small one like this, took an incredible amount of work. They had several dozen slips, a gasoline pump, repair services, rental equipment for people who didn’t want to own but wanted to go boating, and all of it required constant upkeep.
It was about creating relationships and customer service, about being good enough, kind enough, helpful enough to encourage repeat business.
And no one understood that more than his dad and Rowan, because at their core, they were both social, charismatic creatures. Attributes that Cam hadn’t gotten from the family gene pool.
For years now, boating and being out on the water had been about work, about keeping the world as safe as possible, about stopping atrocities that most people would thankfully never have to think about. It hadn’t been about fun, not for a long time.
He wasn’t sure he could get there, but he was sure as hell going to try. For his dad. For Rowan. For the legacy he’d left.
Over the past week and a half, he’d spent a lot of time going through the office. Rowan had surprised him there too. He’d had an org chart, broken down into service categories. Dockage, fuel, repairs, etc.
What his brother hadn’t been able to do, probably due to lack of time, was calculate revenue and expenses. He hadn’t been able to see where they were bleeding money or what was working. So Cam had dug in. He’d focused on the largest revenue source first: the slips and storage. First problem was they had too many empty slips.
Gavin appeared in the office doorway. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
He came in and sprawled out in the chair facing the desk. “I could hear you swearing from the docks.”
Frustrated, Cam pushed away the laptop. “Give me a boat to repair, or anything over paperwork any day of the week.”
Gavin turned the laptop to face him. “Bookkeeping not your thing, huh?”
“I’d rather go back to boot camp and get tortured by the sadistic training officers all over again.”
Gavin glanced over the numbers. Clicked on a few tabs. “You got an existing customer list?”
“Yeah. I need to hit it hard to get all the slips filled for the upcoming season.”
Gavin nodded. “Yeah, you do. I’d start by reducing the rate—offer a special promo rate. Then rinse and repeat until seventy-five percent of the slips are filled. Keep the rest available as transient slips and charge more for them.”
Cam took a second look at him. “Great advice. Okay. What else?”
“Once you get your slip inventory paid for, you’ll be in better shape. The service and fuel should be easy profit, assuming you stay on top of it. Which means someone taking better care of these poor books.”
Cam didn’t think twice. “You available to handle that part?”
Gavin’s brows went up. “You trust me with your bookkeeping?”
“Why, you going to skim off the top?”
“Hell, no. I’m not aiming for prison.” Gavin rubbed his jaw. “But you should know, I’m . . . a drug addict. I’m in recovery. Out of rehab six months now.”
Cam leaned back, surprised. “Piper know?” When Gavin gave a slow shake of his head, Cam swore. Piper was going to be pissed, and rightfully so. “What is it with you and Winnie?”
“I’m going to tell her.”
Cam groaned. “You’re both killing me.”
Gavin snorted. “Not my first time hearing that.” He paused. “Look, for what it’s worth, Piper deserves better than what Winnie and I have given her. I’m working on that.”
“Maybe you could work faster.”
Gavin nodded.
Cam studied him for a minute. He hoped Gavin just needed a second chance, one his brother wouldn’t ever get. “The job’s yours if you want it.”
Gavin blinked. “Serious?”
“Dead serious. I’m leaving here in less than two weeks, with no guarantee when my next extended leave might be.”
Gavin looked him right in the eye. “You going to break my sister’s heart?”
“Winnie will be fine. I’ll make sure she’s covered financially, and she’ll have you and Piper for support too.”
“I wasn’t talking about Winnie.”
Cam drew in a deep breath. “I respect your asking, but whatever’s happening—or not happening—between Piper and me is not up for discussion.”
“So that’s a yes, then,” Gavin said. He stood and turned to go.
Shit. “No,” he said to the guy’s back. “I’m not going to break your sister’s heart.” She might, however, break his . . .
Gavin turned around as if he couldn’t quite believe what Cam was saying. Frankly, Cam couldn’t believe it either.
“We did not have this conversation.”
Gavin nodded, respect in his gaze, attitude gone. He nodded toward the laptop. “I could definitely take over the bookkeeping. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours a week, and I could use the extra money.” He paused. “And if we’re divulging things that we haven’t said out loud and that are scary as fuck, you should know that I’m hoping to talk Piper into turning the property into a B and B. By renting out the cottages and using the bottom floor of the big house to serve breakfasts to guests, we’d all have some relatively easy income.”
“Have this conversation with her soon, Gavin.”
“I will.” He looked at the mess of paperwork on the desk. “Want me to start now?”
“God, yes. But tomorrow’s fine.”
They spent a few more minutes together, with Cam handing over everything Gavin would need, hoping he was doing the right thing by Piper. By all of them.
After, Cam walked up the hill to his dad’s back deck and found a couple of steaks on the barbeque, which he knew for damn sure weren’t on his dad’s list of acceptable foods. He headed into the kitchen via the back door and found his dad making out with some woman up against the refrigerator.
Cam slapped a hand over his eyes, which heightened his sense of hearing, and what he heard was clothing being quickly rearranged. “Are you kidding me?”
Emmitt cleared his throat. “Son, this is Margaret. She’s a librarian. Runs the Books on Wheels van.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Margaret, a pretty, redheaded, fiftyish woman who was flushed and breathless.
Her blouse wasn’t properly buttoned but Cam would die before mentioning it. He did his best to hold eye contact as she offered him a hand to shake. “You too,” he murmured, giving his dad a look when Margaret scurried to the oven to pull out cupcakes.
She smiled at Cam. “Honey, do you like cupcakes?”
“My dad’s diabetic. He’s on a low-sugar, low-fat diet.”
Margaret looked horrified. “So . . . you don’t like cupcakes?”
Cam looked at his dad, who had the good grace to grimace.
“Today’s a cheat day,” Emmitt said.
“Dad, we need to talk.” Cam gestured toward the living room.
His dad grinned at Margaret. “I think I’m in trouble.”