Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series
Page 79
“If you don’t care, maybe we can make a boat this time, or a house, instead of a jungle.”
Jesse shakes his head and rests his chin on his knee, bent over the green Legos. He holds up a plastic palm frawn. “I want to make a jungle.”
With a smile, I join him on the floor. “Sounds good, but we’re adding a waterfall this time. And a unicorn.”
His face scrunches. “There are no unicorns in the jungle,” he says, distracted. But his mouth tugs in the corner. At least it’s something.
Twenty
Bethany’s Journal
April 14th
I’m not sure when I became this manic person on the brink of freak-out mode, but I’ve been feeling particularly agitated lately. The older Jesse gets and how little my parents seem to change or come around to him and his needs doesn’t help. I have a feeling Nick is more the cause for my mood, though.
Being around him more frequently after years of awkward, off and on encounters is hard to wrap my head around. Today, he was kind, if a little grisly when I showed up at his door. We might’ve argued, but it felt good in a way. It needed to happen, I think. He’s different when it’s just us—him with me and Jesse, or just me. Different from the cocky, smirking Nick that I’ve run into at the movie theater when he’s with a girl or when our friends meld together during summer camping trisp trips.
But working with him AND Sam on our project has taken things to a whole other level. I’ve been thinking about what happened with Mike a few years ago more than I’m comfortable with, now that the past seems to be catching up with me. Being with Mike distanced me from Jesse and my parents . . . maybe that’s why I cling so tightly to my little brother. I want to make up for lost time and for Jesse to know that I will never choose a guy over him again. And I won’t be like my parents who think work is more important.
Being with Mike also sent me into a spiral I don’t like to think about—a lot of drinking and late nights, and guys I surrounded myself with because they noticed me and made me feel something other than pain. A lot of wandering and darkness, but thank God for Anna Marie, my saving grace and the devil on my shoulder. She cared more than anyone else did.
The night I called Mike and heard Sam’s voice in the background was the night my heart was shredded in two. It went from “Sam and I are just friends” to the gut-wrenching truth that came pouring of out of him when I started to freak out. Something in him snapped and he laid it all out there, not a single grain of sugar to coat the truth. Yes, he’d been with Sam. Yes, he was seeing us both. He was also tired of high school girls and their needy emotions. He’d spent over a year telling me I was important to him and that my parents shouldn’t treat me like garbage, only for him to discard me the moment I was no longer worth his time and energy.
I wanted to blame Sam for it all. I did, for a while. She was the other woman. She’d ruined everything, and that’s why I maliciously flirted with Reilly last summer during our camping trip. I knew it would piss her off, even if they weren’t together. Despite what I can only imagine she’s been through after losing her dad, she got her happily ever after.
If only my parents would move on too. They never cared that I was devastated about Mike, only that my grades were slipping, among other responsibilities—yet another reason my dad is permanently disappointed in me, even if my mom is the one who hurt me the most. Her calling me a slut one night when I came home drunk has stuck with me ever since.
Last year, at the Hughes holiday party, I realized for the first time that Sam not might not have been the conniving bitch I thought she was. Maybe she was just a gullible teenager, like I’d been. If Mac’s words from that night are all I have to go on, then I’m supposed to be the bad guy in all of this. Go figure.
So, yeah, I guess being around Nick and Sam . . . it’s not something I want to do but needs to be done. Especially if I’m going to get through the next month. -B
Twenty-One
Bethany
Sunday morning feels like a fresh start. I’m not sure if it’s the sunshine or the fact that I crashed last night after work and slept like a rock for the first time in forever. Or, maybe it’s because Jesse is at a play date with one of the kids from his program, acting like eleven-year-olds generally do.
Sunshine and happiness aside, driving up the dirt road, toward the boarding facility, it finally really hits me that I’m not just working on this project with Nick, which is a minefield of its own, but I’m working with Sam on this, too. And, it’s on her turf. My palms are sweating, thinking about it, but if Nick’s right, technically, this will be an easy project, and if I allow myself to hope just a little bit, it might even be fun.
Pulling up the drive, I take in the vast ranch surrounding me. It’s impressive, with a large stable and a menagerie of horse heads and rumps sticking out of the stalls. There’s a pasture with a gray horse, grazing, and a stately white farmhouse with navy blue trim, situated opposite of it all.
I park my Rover next to Nick’s Explorer and climb out, notebook and pencil in hand. Sam runs all of this? Her dad was somewhat of a legend in Saratoga Falls, a renowned horseman that I’d seen a couple times at the County Fair growing up. I remember the buzz around the accident and being sad for her, even if I hated her at the time. It’s only now, though, being at her home secluded up on the mountain, that I can almost feel the loss of him.
A lukewarm breeze hits my face, and I smell dirt and nature, and I hear birds chirping and chickens clucking somewhere off in the distance. The ranch is its own world, and I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for Sam to take over this place. It’s admirable, even.
Since Sam and Nick are nowhere in sight, I follow the sound of drilling, coming from the barn. Banjo and harmonica riffs meet my ears along with it, and I know I’ve found Nick. Creedence Clearwater Revival is one of his favorite bands. I know this from many summers being in the periphery of his life.
I weave between buildings, imagining how much Jesse might like to visit a place like this one day. He’d love the horses and animals, maybe all of it a little over-stimulating, but in a good way for once, I think.
The barn looks like the oldest building on the property, perhaps the only original structure that’s left, and I admire how rustic it is, how rich in history it might be and the possibilities of what we can do with it.
Lingering in the blinding yet rejuvenating sunlight a moment longer, I let it soak through me for a final dose of serenity, before I step into what could potentially be the definition of a bad situation.
I walk through the large open doorway. There’s nothing inside that would warrant the leathery scent that fills my nostrils, but I inhale deeply. It’s a little musty, but I like it, strange as it is to me. There are tools in some areas, fresh wood and building materials in others, but other than that, the space is relatively empty of anything resembling a barn. It’s a big space, though. Large enough to house a few tractors, and definitely large enough to transform into an office space.
Finally, my eyes rest on Nick, standing on a ladder and drilling something into the skylight a few yards away. His back is to me as he whistles to the radio, unaware of my presence, and I enjoy the clandestine moment.
With his arms extended above him, his abdomen shows just enough to elicit my appreciation and a fleeting curiosity of what his skin would feel like against my fingertips. He shifts his weight to his other foot and his arms strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt, his muscles flexing.
“See something you like?”
I spin around to find Sam behind me. Her eyes, the color of chestnut and whiskey, shift from Nick to me. I swallow, imagining my face the color of a ripe tomato. “Uh—hi,” I say automatically. “Just checking the place out.”
Sam lifts a delicate eyebrow. She’s petite and pixie-like with her wild blonde hair and tanned skin, but the look in her eyes is prudent, like she’s seen a hundred lifetimes over the years, and the set of her jaw makes her surprisingly formidable, too.
“I don’t play games,” I say quickly, a dozen other, more self-preserving replies come to mind, but I grip my notebook more tightly instead. “I . . . it’s complicated.” The years of wondering and wishing things were different make my true feelings difficult to separate. I’m not sure I do like him, or if it’s the idea of him.
To my relief, Sam lets it go. “So,” she says, gesturing to the space. “This will be my new office.”
“It’s a good size,” I say, easily slipping into design mode. “Do you mind if I ask what you used it for before the remodel?”
“Well . . .” Sam gazes around, like she’s trying to remember. “The back corner was old stalls that were rotted out. They were holding old tractor parts and rusted tools that were my grandpa’s, which Papa was holding onto.” I glance from the corner of the room to her face, wondering if it’s difficult for her to speak of her dad.
“And this area,” she continues, gesturing to the middle of the barn, “had my dad’s old John Deere that didn’t run. Nick pieced out the parts and sold it for me so we could use the space. And, over here,” she says, gesturing to the area where Nick’s installing the windows in the pitched ceiling. “This is where we were storing most of the horse feed. We’ve moved it all to the stables though, which is working out better,” she muses. “Anyway, that’s the gist. Reilly helped Nick with all the demo, but the biggest challenge so far, was Nick replacing the load bearing support beams that were rotting.”
“Yeah, this place looks pretty old, but the bones seem good.”
Sam nods, admiring the transformed space. “Yeah, I’m really happy with it. Other than a few spots on the roof that need some mending, which Reilly is taking care of, it’s just about done.”
I nod, but my mind is swirling with possibilities. Rustic chic, antique accents, and understated furniture. “I really like the old windows up there, it looks great.” I meet Nick’s gaze, and he winks. Remembering his taut abs, I flush and clear my throat. “So,” I say, jotting down inconsequential notes, “what are your must-haves for the space? That will make it easier for me to wrap my mind around this.”
“Well . . . ” Sam tucks a stray wave of hair behind her ear and peers around. “I know I need a desk.”
When she doesn’t say much else, I smile. It’s clear this isn’t Sam’s forte, which gives me a bit of a confidence booster. “Are you worried about privacy or sectioning areas off? I’m not sure what exactly you’ll be using the space for.”
“Meetings with boarders, and my stepmom will be out here, working on accounting. I know this space is bigger than we need, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get all of the crap that’s taking over the house out here. Plus, I want us to look more professional. We have twelve boarders now, and I hate them having to call the house number or come inside if they need something and I’m not out here.”
“Got it. Are you thinking you’d like to keep it practical and open? Maybe an open floor plan?”
“That’s kind of what I imagined.”
I walk over to the loft to check out the stairs. “I’m thinking maybe we use the loft for the bookkeeping—it’s separate, but it’s still open, too. Nick might have to run additional wiring up there, but it could be done.” I quickly sketch the layout of the barn, wondering how we should use the open floor plan to suit Sam best.
“I like that,” she says, staring down at my sketch. “I think Alison will too.”
“Do you have any décor themes in mind—a style you’re partial to?”
Sam shrugs. “I have a few things I’ve bookmarked. I’ll send them to you. I like simple, and I stay away from shiny things. Alison would be a better person to ask. She’s not as excited about all of this as I am, but she knows what she likes. She’ll be more helpful than I will. She already has a running list—no dirt floor and definitely an air conditioning system of sorts for the summertime. Reilly’s working on ventilation instead, but Alison is skeptical. And the concrete floors are going in next week, I think.” Sam shrugs. “Anyway, she’s the picky one.”
Sam glances around at the space, and I can’t help addressing the elephant in the room. Holding my notebook up to my chest, I look at Sam and steel my nerves. “About Reilly . . . Sam, the whole thing last summer—”
She puts her hand up and squeezes her eyes shut in a silent plea. “I don’t want to talk about any of that,” she says. “This”—she extends her arm in a brief wave around the room—“is manageable for me. I’m not, however, good with—” she gestures between us.
“Ladies,” Nick says lazily as he climbs down the ladder. “Glad to see there’s no fur flying in the air or claws out.”
We both glare at him, and he holds his palms up. “Aye! ‘Twas only a joke.”
“We were just talking about what to do with the space,” I say, choosing a more neutral topic.
“And,” Sam says, glancing between us, “I have to jump on a call, so you guys let me know what your plan is and what you need me to do. Nick, you should wrangle Alison in at some point, she should have a say.” With a quick turn on her heel, she heads out of the barn. “Make good choices!” she calls over her shoulder, and Nick salutes her.
When he looks at me, wood shavings clinging to his shirt and dust smudging his face, I smile. His eyes are more green than brown in the sun, filtering in through the skylight, and I wonder if he knows how sexy he is.
I decide that’s a firm no when he smacks his chewing gum with a grin, completely oblivious, and steps closer. “So, that seemed to go well enough.” He rests his hands on his hips, amusement bright in his eyes. “I didn’t want to interrupt you two, but my arms were about to fall off, tightening those screws over and over again.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No, it definitely wasn’t as horrible as I would’ve thought,” I admit. “But I wouldn’t say we’re on hugging terms or anything.”
“Ha! You never will be. Sam isn’t a hugger. Not really. That’s Mac. You know you’re ‘in’ with Mac when you get a hug.” He spits his gum out in the trashcan by the door.
“I can see that about Mac, but don’t worry, I won’t hold my breath for that, either.”
Nick casts me a sidelong glance, a sparkle of something mischievous or knowing in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his gaze shifts to my lips, lingering. The something that lives in the air between us at all times is sometimes impossible to ignore, and letting it hang in the silence is more than I can handle right now. Being this close to him, seeing him here in his element with the easygoing air I’ve always admired about him, is too much, too, and it makes it easy to forget why I’m here in the first place.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I blurt. “I know we didn’t get much work done. I left kind of abruptly, but I’ll make it up to you. You’ve already done so much—” I peer around, imagining the barn before. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, kicking at a stray piece of hay. “I hope everything worked out okay. You seemed pretty upset.”
I stare out through one of the old, single-paned windows, like there’s something more noteworthy outside than the concern on Nick’s face. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Are you sure about that?” I notice him reaching for my face from the corner of my eye, and my eyes dart to him. I’m not sure if it’s possible to pale while your cheeks burn, but my eyes widen, and his mouth quirks up in the corner.
“You have something in your hair,” he says quietly and gently plucks a flake of sawdust or straw from it, but I don’t notice which. It’s not important, not when his eyes are locked on mine and the silence grows.
“There he is,” Reilly calls, causing me to jump. I spin around as he steps into the barn. His smile is wide, and he lifts his chin at
Nick before his eyes shift to me. “Hey, Bethany.” Reilly’s easy expression never falters.
With a tightlipped smile, I nod a hello and offer him a quick wave of uncertainty, knowing the last time I saw him I was laying the flirting on pretty strong.
“I figured I’d find you riding out in the pasture,” he says with a face-engulfing grin.
“Yeah right,” Nick mutters.
Reilly glances at me. “Nick’s petrified of riding,” he explains with a smile. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”
Nick glowers but Reilly ignores him. “So,” he says, “did you get the breakfast I left for you yesterday?”
“What?” Nick’s eyes widen. “No. Sam said you ate it all.”
Reilly winks. “I did. I was just screwing with you.”
“Not cool, Rye.”
With a chuckle, Reilly rests his palm against a support post, leaning his weight against it. Then, he looks at me again. “You here to keep this guy on track?”
“No, not at all,” I say easily, impressed with all they’ve done already. “I’m in awe, actually. I saw the before photos, and it looks amazing in here. You guys have done a really great job so far.”
“Thanks. It’s mostly Nick. I’m in charge of the Honey Do List.” Reilly chuckles and looks up at the new skylights. “They look legit.”
While the guys chat back and forth, I can only think of how strange all of this is. Maybe it’s the high schooler in me, but I’m standing in a room with two guys I’ve always known about but never really known, and it’s surreal to be a temporary fixture in their circle.
So, this is what is feels like . . .
Twenty-Two
Nick
I pull up to the curb outside my apartment and glance into the rearview mirror as Bethany pulls her Rover up behind me. She gets out of her car, hauling her book bag over her shoulder. I try and fail not to notice how good she looks in a simple yellow dress and sandals. I didn’t tell her at the ranch that she’ll likely regret that next time she’s up there working. I was too distracted, staring at her legs the whole time, but I make a mental note to tell her, eventually.