Home to Me

by LaVerne Clark

  Lucy slid out of the car and took the opportunity as Sam rounded the hood to steady her heart rate. The respite was brief as he took her hand in his, linked fingers, and strode toward the office. Sliding open the ranch-slider door, he gestured for her to walk through first. The office girl lifted her head, a warm smile of welcome on her face, then her gaze slid past her and widened.

  “Sam! How lovely to see you. Are you here to oversee the final planting by the lake house?”

  He’d been doing work here? Lucy shot him a glance, but he kept his own firmly on the receptionist, his smile blinding. The girl blushed so fiercely, proving to Lucy that she wasn’t the only one susceptible to his charm.

  “Hi, Nikki. No, I’m showing a friend around today. Lucy and I used to come here as kids.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze slid back to give Lucy a tight smile, but she didn’t miss the way her eyes did a quick sweep as if to take stock of the competition. Lucy locked her fingers more firmly through Sam’s, allowing her body to lean just a little into his space.

  Yeah, that’s right, lady, he’s taken.

  The red-hot streak of possessiveness shocked her. She’d never had a possessive bone in her body—until Sam.

  “Isn’t that lovely,” Nikki continued, the professional smile back on her face. “Are you going to take a ride as well? The weather couldn’t be more perfect. With that bit of rain we had the last week, the waterfall will be in full flow.”

  “That’s the plan.” Sam rounded the counter and reached under, rummaging through a drawer. He straightened with a large set of keys in his hand as if it were a perfectly natural thing to do. “Is June around today?”

  “She is. Bailey is due any day now, so she’s been hanging around the stables like a bad smell, afraid to miss something.” The roll of the eyes was softened with a genuine smile. Whoever this June was, she sounded like a force to be reckoned with.

  “Then we’ll head that way first. Thanks, Nikki.”

  Sam held the door for her, his hand on the small of her back guiding her out. As soon as they started walking down the path toward the stables, Lucy planted her feet, hands on her hips. “Okay, spill. What’s the deal here? Do you own this place?”

  His deep laugh made all the fine hairs on her body quiver in pleasure. “Business is going well, but not that well. Have you seen the price of land around here lately?”

  He twined his fingers through hers again, his palm warm and solid. Her thumb brushed against the base of his callused thumb in an unconscious display of affection, and his nostrils flared.

  “That doesn’t answer my question, though, does it?” She bumped him with her shoulder, and he grunted, pulling her closer to his side.

  “Fine. I’m part owner.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. “Oh, wow. That is amazing, Sam. Tell me how it happened.”

  “A few years ago, I heard the bank was about to foreclose on Mrs. Oates. She’d fallen heavily behind on the repayments and rates. The rates are a killer in this part of Auckland.”

  She grimaced in sympathy. “They really are. How’d you hear about that?”

  “I was pruning back the planting in the driveway. One day, she asked me to down tools since she couldn’t afford to pay the last couple of weeks. I refused and offered to finish it for free.”

  Lucy smiled. That was typical of him. “You’re a sweetheart, Sam.”

  The tips of his ears turned red, and he shrugged. “I can’t bear not finishing something I start.” His voice was gruff with the effort to downplay her praise. He’d always been like that. Seeing a need and then working quietly in the background until that need was met, keeping well out of the limelight. He’d always been a sucker for a project or a charity case.

  Her stomach soured as the truth of that thought settled, and she pulled away, ostentatiously picking her way around a couple of potholes in the gravel. “I bet Mrs. Oates was overjoyed.”

  He laughed again. “Actually, no, she wasn’t.”

  The soft sound of horses nickering to each other reached her ears, and Lucy glanced up to find they had almost reached the stables.

  “She grumbled and groused about not being a charity case and boys with nothing better to do, but I ignored her and carried on anyway. What was she going to do? Pick me up and throw me out?”

  She pictured the old lady of her memory, no bigger than a ten-year-old child, trying to forcibly eject Sam, all six feet and solid muscle of him, and she laughed. “I’d love to have seen her try.”

  They paused before the fence enclosing the stable. Built from natural timbers and weathered to a soft silver, the stable sat comfortably amongst the surrounding trees. It seemed as if it had always been there. Lucy remembered the lean-to that had previously sat in this spot and smiled nostalgically. Things had definitely improved, but it was also a little sad to find so much from her past changed. She glanced over as Sam leaned his forearms on the post next to her, his triceps brushing against her shoulder as he crossed his arms, and her heart gave a little leap. Her mouth tugged wryly. It seemed not everything had changed with time.

  “I’ve always loved this place. It’s full of great memories.” His eyes were on the building, but like her, his focus was clearly in the past. “It’s a bit of an oasis. A bit of country in the middle of suburbia. Developers have been eyeing it up for years. I couldn’t bear the thought it would get churned up for housing. I wanted other kids to have the same opportunities here that I did.”

  Lucy rested her arms on the top post beside him, studying his face. “So how did you keep it out of the developers’ hands?”

  He blinked and turned his head, his gaze zeroing in on her. With a feather-light touch, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with a fingertip. Her attention snagged on his top lip as the corners tilted up fractionally.

  “I got together a group of people to form a syndicate. They consisted of a couple of old mates from school and others I’d met through work. Once we had a plan in place of what we were going to do with the place, we approached Mrs. Oates, who loved our ideas, and finally the bank.” He spread his hands. “And here we are.”

  “It must have been so hard on her to let it go. It had been her life.”

  “That was the best part of the plan.” He pushed off from the fence and reached for her hand as an old lady materialized in the doorway of the stable. “We hired her to look after the horses and do the occasional riding lesson.” He lowered his head and whispered, “Only the adults mind you.” His breath stirred the hair at her ears, causing goosebumps to erupt over her skin. “We don’t want her terrifying the youngsters like she did in our day.”

  “Samuel Merrick, is that you, young man?”

  The sudden bark made Lucy jump out of her skin. She’d forgotten how much the woman’s voice resembled a foghorn.

  “It sure is, June. I’ve brought someone with me you might recognize.”

  “Then get over here, boy, instead of grinning like a loon. I don’t have all day for lollygagging, you know. Jobs to do. The horses don’t attend to themselves.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered out the corner of her mouth. “She hasn’t changed at all.” Lucy wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh out loud or run in the other direction.

  Sam chuckled and made the decision for her, pulling her toward the old lady who stood waiting, a crop slapping rhythmically against her boot-covered calf. “You remember Lucy Caldwell, don’t you? Her family and I used to come here during the summer months for a couple of years.”

  “Lands, boy. Of course I remember her. I’m old, not addled. Who’d forget that pale complexion and big eyes? I always thought you were a sick little thing, but your mother assured me it was just your coloring.” Her huff belied her skepticism. Shuffling up to her, the old lady pinched her cheeks, the strength still apparent in those fingers surprising. “There. That’ll put some color into your face.” She hooked her arm through Lucy’s and towed her toward the stables, a force as powerful as nature and
just as impossible to resist. “Come and see what’s changed since you were last here.”

  “I’d love to, Mrs. Oates.”

  “Pfft. Call me June. You’re an adult now, right? And it only makes me feel more ancient than I am for adults to be so formal. How is your family, dear?”

  Lucy swallowed against the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach at the blunt question. “It’s just Mum and me now.”

  June nodded and clucked her tongue. “Samuel told me about your brother. The silly boy. Why the government continues to allow teenage boys to drive cars before they’re mentally ready is beyond me.”

  Lucy winced but couldn’t fault the sentiment. She’d raged at the same herself over the years, alternating between anger at Jordan and the driving laws. Ultimately though, she’d realized only her brother’s rash decision was to blame.

  “Let’s start with the tack room, shall we?” Sam appeared at June’s elbow, subtly moving them through the doorway and changing the subject. Lucy sent him a smile of gratitude, then gasped in wonder as she took in her surroundings.

  The dark and cold concrete room from her memory had been transformed into a warm space. Firmly packed hay bales lined one wall, acting as shelving units or convenient places to sit while cleaning leather or shooting the breeze. Saddles sat on pommels screwed into another wall at waist height, making Lucy smile. No more struggling to pull them down, the heavy leather falling onto the heads of the unwary if one was accidentally knocked loose. Supple bridles hung below each, the name of the horse they belonged to engraved on bronze plaques sandwiched between. In the middle of the room stood a central shelving unit, bearing an assortment of grooming equipment all spotlessly clean and neatly laid out. Stacked below was a large collection of helmets, the differing sizes clearly labeled, making it a breeze to find the perfect fit.

  The only thing still exactly the same was the smell. Leather, hay, liniment, and the lingering perfume of worked horses. Lucy closed her eyes and inhaled, an involuntary smile tugging at her lips. Heaven. She’d always thought it should be bottled. The warm scent enveloped her, sending her back to a time where everything still made sense. When everything in life held the sheen of innocence. When her family was still complete and before anything ugly touched her life. Then another scent became her focus as footsteps approached her. Citrus and soap, earthy freshness, and warm male.

  Sam.

  Her eyes popped open.

  “Do you like it?”

  Arms loosely crossed and head tilted, he watched her reaction, his pose casual. But it was deceptive. This close she could see how rigidly he held his body, read the tension in his eyes and the fixed set to his mouth. Her approval meant something.

  “It’s wonderful.”

  His face relaxed into a wide smile, making her catch her breath. Would there ever come a day where his sheer beauty didn’t affect her? She didn’t think so.

  “Samuel designed this room. Said a woman my age needed a safer environment to work in.” June snorted, the sound not unlike her beloved horses, and Lucy rolled her lips inward, pressing them together. Careful to avoid Sam’s eyes, she swallowed the laugh that bubbled up into her throat. Sam had perfected the sound when they were younger, reenacting the times he got in trouble with Mrs. Oates for her and Jordan’s benefit, sending them into fits of laughter. And those times had been often. The sweet memory softened the keen edge of loss.

  “Well, he was right.” Lucy flashed him a quick smile and wandered around the room, running her fingers over leather and brushes, delighting in half-forgotten textures and sensations. Her touch released more of the familiar scents into the air, and she breathed deeply, trying to flush Sam’s scent from her system where it had set root. “It’s good to know you’re not wrestling pounds of leather above your head anymore. And it must be good for the kids that come here too. I remember how it felt to be clobbered with a saddle because I wasn’t strong enough to heft it down safely.”

  “Too stubborn more like,” Sam countered, his lips hitched in one corner, eyes twinkling. He stroked down her arm, sending bolts of heat through her. “You always did want to do things your own way. I’m glad you’ve learned sometimes it pays to let others help you.”

  She sucked in a breath and forced herself not to move away from his touch, instead catching hold of his fingers and interlacing them with her own. Approval crinkled the corner of his eyes as he gazed down at her.

  “Oh. Like that, is it? Well, I can’t say it surprises me.” June was nodding in approval. “There was always something between you two, even as kids. I even said as much to your mother. Right,” she interrupted herself. “I’ll show you my quarters next.”

  Lucy grinned as she followed June. She really hadn’t changed. It still took an effort to keep up with her lightning-quick changes of subject. “You live here?” Glancing around the room, she frowned, searching for a hidden door or something.

  “Not here, silly girl. I’m dedicated, but I like my creature comforts too. No—Samuel had the groom’s quarters above the stables remodeled, but that word doesn’t begin to do it justice.”

  “You live onsite?”

  “Yep. Your man insisted.”

  Lucy’s chest tightened, and she let go of Sam’s hand to rub at it with the flat of her palm. Her man.

  “Part of the remuneration package, he said,” June continued. “Reckoned it’s better for the horses to have someone here at all times. They can be such skittish animals, and having someone here does seem to help keep them calm.”

  “I see.” Lucy raised a brow at Sam who seemed intent on avoiding eye contact, making her suspect his insistence had more to do with June’s welfare than the horses’. Her chest constricted. Yet again, there was another example of Sam’s abundant capacity for compassion and kindness. He had always been the one looking after everyone else. Now she wondered who’d been there for him in the years since his best friend’s death. Who’d made sure he was all right?

  They exited the tack room and stepped out into the bright morning sunshine. Rounding the corner of the building, they were greeted by the sight of immaculate stables straight out of an English movie set and her childhood musings. Horses’ heads hung over the half-doors, their peaceful gazes on them, some nickering in welcome as they approached.

  “That’s Beau.” June’s elbow nudged Lucy’s side, her head inclining toward the big, speckled gray watching them under a shaggy forelock. “He’s a gentleman. I’ll have him saddled up for you after your tour of the place.”

  “Thanks. It’s been a while.” That was an understatement. She’d be as rusty as all hell, and she was relieved to hear she’d be assigned a mount that would look after her. Nothing would be worse than looking like an idiot in front of Sam.

  Lucy stopped to give the big gray a scratch behind the ear, breathing deep of the delicious horsey scent. He turned his head, encouraging her fingers to scratch at the spot right below his forelock. He closed his eyes and blew out of his nostrils in a horsey sigh, making her laugh.

  “You are lovely, Beau. I think we’re going to get along perfectly.”

  After a few more minutes of getting acquainted, she gave him a final clap on the shoulder and followed June up the stairs to her quarters, Sam bringing up the rear. Suddenly acutely aware of just where his gaze was likely to be, she stumbled.

  Large hands clamped onto her hips, righting her, his voice low in her ear. “Careful.”

  The husky baritone lifted the fine hair at her nape and made her blood heat. All the electrons in her body jumped to attention, insanely responsive to every little move he made.

  Although they spent the next few minutes touring the grooms’ quarters and she made all the right noises, if she was quizzed, she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone how big the building was or even what the color of the walls were. Just like before, Sam was fast becoming her world, and it was starting to scare the shit out of her.

  Chapter Four

  “You okay over there?”

&n
bsp; Lucy blinked to clear her mind from the almost meditative trance she’d fallen into with the gentle rocking gait of her mount and met Sam’s gaze. The smell of freshly-trodden earth and grass rose to her nostrils, and she sighed in appreciation.

  She smiled. “I’m great. This was an inspired idea, Sam. I don’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.”

  “I’m glad. That was the aim.” He squeezed his mount with his legs, urging it to draw level with hers, and she watched him surreptitiously under her lashes, admiring the easy way he sat his horse.

  Straight-backed, he was at once relaxed and sure in the seat, hands light and giving with each nod of his mount’s head. Drawn downward, her gaze caught on his lower body, and her mouth went dry. Strong thighs gripped and released with the horse’s movements, hips rocking in time to the rhythm, sending her mind straight back into dirty territory. Her body grew uncomfortably warm. Tearing her gaze away, she searched desperately for a distraction and almost sobbed in relief when she spotted a clearing ahead.

  “Let’s have a canter.” Ignoring his sharp-eyed look at her breathless suggestion, she nudged Beau to increase his pace. The gray responded immediately, pricking his ears, and leaped forward with a joyful surge of his powerful muscles. The loud whoop behind her told her Sam was on her tail, and she nudged with her heels again to encourage her mount into a gallop. Tendrils of mane whipped her face as she crouched in her stirrups and balanced over the horse’s neck. She grinned at the sheer feeling of freedom the extra speed evoked. Why hadn’t she done this more often? But then that was something Sam had always been good at. Knowing what she needed before she knew herself.

  A cool breeze lashed her hot cheeks and tore at her hair. Movement out of the corner of her eye told her Sam had caught up, holding his larger mount in check to match their pace. She grinned, thrilled to see her own delight mirrored on his face. Without any need of verbal communication, they slowed their pace to a gentle canter. The sound of falling water grew over the sound of pounding hooves, and they slowed gradually to a walk. Their horses snorted and puffed, bits jangling as they shook their heads, and their nostrils dilated as they sucked in air. Beau’s gait had more bounce to it as if he’d enjoyed the burst of speed as much as they had.