Surviving Love

by K. F. Breene

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “So polite,” Sara heard as she trudged through the wide-open space and skittered up the stairs.

  Mikey’s room was the last in the great hall, each boy having a room to himself in the large house. Sara didn’t even bother to knock. She pushed open the door and marched in, staring accusingly at Mikey as he sat on his bed, leaning over her Game Boy.

  “That’s mine! Give it back,” Sara demanded.

  “I’m almost on the last level! Get out.”

  Eyebrows climbing her forehead in the way she’d so often seen on her mom’s face, she marched right up to him and grabbed the device.

  “Sara!” he screeched, trying to hang on to it. “Just let me borrow it for a couple more days. I’ve almost beat this game!”

  “Then you’ll just start another game. Give it back!”

  With a look of death, Mikey let go, smirking when Sara teetered and fell back against his dresser.

  “Thank you,” she said with determination. “Now kiss me.”

  Mikey’s jaw dropped. “What? Gross! You’re a girl.”

  “Mikey Frost, you get up here this instant and give me a kiss. Sally is going around telling everyone that she got a kiss from Tommy Banks. She thinks she is so cool because she’s kissing boys. I’d rather eat a slug, but her bigger sister says that only cool girls can get a boy to kiss her, so Sally is going on and on about it. I’m cool. I want a kiss.”

  “You’re just a kid,” Mikey said with a crinkled nose.

  “Do your brothers kiss girls?”

  Mikey’s brow rumpled. They both knew his oldest brother had something of a girlfriend. They were both pretty sure there was kissing going on.

  Mikey looked at Sara with resolve. “Fine.”

  He stood up and walked to his closet.

  “Where are you going?” Sara asked in confusion, ready to tackle him if he tried to get away.

  “I don’t want to be by the bed. I don’t need you getting any ideas.”

  “We sleep together all the time.”

  “Yes, but that’s different. There’s no kissing involved in that.”

  Sara rolled her eyes before coming to stand right in front of him. She angled up her face and closed her eyes.

  “I have to do all the work?” Mikey asked, put out.

  “Just kiss me, for God’s sakes,” she replied curtly.

  He bent down with puckered lips. His face bumped off hers first, and then he pushed forward again to keep his lips connected with hers for a count of ten. He pulled away with a smack.

  Her eyes opened and stared up at him, assessing. “That wasn’t so bad. I didn’t mind it. Find me tomorrow near the swings and do it again. I want to see that Sally Jacobson’s face when she sees.”

  “Only if I get your Game Boy for another week.”

  Sara’s fists balled and her face turned red. “A week? I just got it. You’ve had it longer than I have already! Your parents are so rich—get them to buy you one!”

  “My dad thinks they’re a waste of time. A week or no kiss. Deal?”

  “Three days,” Sara said, crossing her arms.

  “Five…”

  They stared at each other. Finally, with a loud sigh, Sara relented. “Fine, but I want at least fifteen seconds in front of everyone.”

  “Fine.” Mikey half-jogged back to the bed, game device in hand.

  Sara stared after him for a minute, having gotten almost everything she wanted, and now not really sure what to do. Shrugging, she followed Mikey to the bed and sat down beside him, watching his progress over his shoulder.

  Chapter 5

  “Sara, would you mind checking over that order before you head on to Jake?” Dan was standing at the end of the hall near the service doors with a clipboard and a harried expression. “I have a guest with a bee sting that’s puffing up and the medic is in town. I need to see to it immediately but the driver is waiting!”

  “Yeah, sure, no problem.” Sara took the clipboard and scanned the packing slip as Dan took off down the hall. She walked up to the neatly stacked boxes and checked off each item on the packing slip until she reached the potatoes. “Oh, it looks like we have one too few boxes.”

  She looked up for the driver. Instead, her gaze glanced off a muscled chest in a black tank top. She looked upward to a startlingly attractive man with bold features and day-old scruff.

  Her face turned red immediately. “Huu… hi.”

  The man’s bemused gaze dipped down, past her face, and lingered on her chest. “Well, hello. You must be Sara, the new house staff.”

  Sara cleared her throat and tucked some flyaway hair behind her ear. “Um, yeah. Yes, I mean. I’m Sara. Are you… Do you work here, or are you the driver?” She lamely held up her clipboard.

  His eyes flashed and his smile flickered brighter. He leaned closer. “Do I make you nervous, Sara?”

  “Oh no, ha ha. Nope, not at all. Uh…” With darting eyes, she spied an overweight fellow with stains on his shirt through the service door. He was leaning against a large white truck. “I just need to take care of this.”

  She held up her clipboard for the second time, figuring, apparently, that even though her sign language failed the first time, repetition was a great idea.

  Scurrying past him, she cursed her ridiculousness. You meet an outrageously handsome man and your first impulse is to do weird things and hop around like a lunatic?

  Berating herself, she stepped wrongly off the last step and nearly barreled into the lounging driver, clipboard smacking off his padded chest.

  “Oh my God, sorry! I’m so sorry!” She backed away quickly, hoping the attractive man hadn’t stuck around and caught that.

  The driver shrugged. “S’okay.”

  “Right. Sorry. Anyway, we’re missing one box of potatoes.”

  “Nah, no you’re not. It’s all there.”

  Tilting her head, Sara consulted the packing slip one more time. She pointed at the number eight next to russet potatoes. “Well, I counted seven boxes. This says eight. Maybe I’m missing one, but I don’t think so.”

  “You are. There are eight there. You probably just thought it was something else. Just sign off like the old man does, and I’ll be on my way.”

  Sara hadn’t loved her job before she’d come here, it was true. If she had, she wouldn’t have quit. But just because you didn’t love something, didn’t mean you weren’t good at it.

  Her business hat clicked on.

  She met the driver’s eyes with a calculating gaze. “Let’s go over it together, then. Please, follow me.”

  “That’s not necessary—”

  Sara cut him off with her managerial eyebrow quirk. She’d taken years to perfect that expression, blending just enough power and authority to get her position across without creating enemies; it was worth its weight in gold. Without another word, she turned and walked back up the steps. The driver followed her with an irritated grunt.

  As Sara entered the hallway, she flicked a glance at the smirking god, leaning against the wall in a fantastic array of muscles. Her chest grew tight. Good God, he had a great body.

  “Excuse me,” she rasped through a dry throat. “I need to go over this with the driver. Maybe I can see you another time…”

  “Duke.”

  That name strangely fit. “Duke.” She shuffled by, dropping her flaming face toward the floor.

  “Sure thing. See you soon.”

  Sara caught the gluteus maximus masterpiece as it sauntered down the hall right before the driver stepped into her space. She fanned herself with the clipboard, squirming with the pounding in her knickers. She was not interested, but ho-ly Lord. The man was hot.

  “Well?”

  Oh yeah.

  Sara turned to the driver, held out the packing slip, and started counting, ticking off each item as she checked it. On closer scrutiny, it turned out the produce was starting to wilt, the meat wasn’t as fresh as it should be, and there was, as she had pre
viously noticed, one less box of potatoes.

  This was not acceptable.

  “Whaddya want me to do about it?” the man said with heat in his voice.

  She hardened her gaze. “Well, first, I will reduce this order by one box of potatoes—we won’t be paying for that. Second, I’ll be contacting your management about quality control. I’d send it all back now, but I don’t want to leave the kitchen without food. I expect your organization to send better quality in the future, otherwise I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

  “Oh yeah, and who do you think you are? You don’t run this place.”

  No, but she was great at bluffing and playing politics. She’d needed some serious promotions to afford Phil’s gambling habit.

  “I’m the one checking in your orders, and since you already think I’m a bitch, I won’t bother with the nice guy approach. We both have a job to do here, so let’s help each other out and get this squared away…”

  The driver’s heated gaze said she was tap-dancing on his last nerve.

  “Fine,” he said in a disgusted tone. “I’ll bring you something better tonight and swap out as long as you stay at the current rates.”

  Oops. He’d just shown his hand. Not too savvy, this driver.

  “Actually, I’ve started to shop around. I like to be thorough. Why don’t you send through your current pricing, and what can I say—if your prices are competitive, there’s no reason for us to go elsewhere.” She smoothly brought up the clipboard and scribbled some gibberish he’d think was a note to herself. His frustrated gaze never left her face.

  It was like a train screeching off the track. She had absolutely no way to back up any of this, but she couldn’t help herself. It was obvious the ranch was getting hosed, and this guy was reaping the rewards. Her need to get a better deal wouldn’t let her shut up.

  The driver continued to stare, a vein pulsing in his jaw.

  She stared back, trying not to blink. Please don’t call my bluff. Please don’t call my bluff!

  The driver stared harder.

  Sara’s eyes started to dry out.

  “Fine,” the driver finally said.

  Oh thank God!

  “I’ll be back tonight. I’ll have the girl at the office send a quote sheet.” He turned without another word, huffed back to his truck, and slammed the door.

  Sara let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  Nodding down at the produce, she gave herself one moment to feel good about saving money for a better-quality product.

  In the next moment, though, fear started to creep in. It was her first week and she’d managed to ruffle the supply company’s feathers, stepped on her boss’ toes, and nearly lost a vendor. Not only that, but she really should shop around to make sure that driver wasn’t pulling a fast one.

  Sighing, Sara clutched the clipboard to her chest and trudged toward her room. She needed to consult Christie about this before she showed up at the guillotine.

  * * *

  Sara cleared her throat nervously. “Um, excuse me, Dan?”

  Jake, May, and Dan all looked up from a piece of paper, everyone gathered around an old, worn desk in the ranch office.

  It had been two hours since Sara had sent the driver away. She’d delivered the products to the kitchen herself, then consulted Christie about her interference. Christie had been equal parts impressed in Sara’s ability, and worried for her.

  It turned out May and Dan had been doing things on the ranch a certain way for decades. They trusted people, whether that was ranch hands or vendors. If the deliveryman said the prices were fair, then they were. Dan would hear no different.

  “But that’s just ridiculous!” Sara had exclaimed when Christie relayed this. “That company is looking at their bottom line. If they can price-gouge, they will.”

  “You don’t need to yell at me, Miss Businesswoman. I know that. But Dan and May are trusting. You’re going to severely burst their bubble.”

  Sara edged into the office, tingles of fear working up her back. She really didn’t want to get fired for stepping on their toes.

  “Uh, could I have a word about the shipment? Please?” The clipboard in Sara’s hand started to shake.

  “Oh, sure.” May pointed at the paper Dan was holding. “Listen, Sara, do you know why Joe’s Goods gave us a free box of potatoes? It says, ‘Per your request.’ And also, we got a quote sheet of some sort?”

  Dan looked up from the paper in confusion. Jake was stone-faced.

  Sara would kill for a smile.

  “Oh, well, they shorted us a box of potatoes, so he’s going to take that off the invoice for this shipment and add it to the next. Also… um.” Sara cleared her throat for the millionth time. “Well, the produce and meat weren’t really, uh, fresh. So I asked that he swap that out at his earliest convenience.”

  Dan still had a befuddled look, but May was shaking her head slowly. It was about to unravel.

  Sara rushed to her own defense. “Um, and I had a feeling his prices were really high, so I asked that he send us an updated quote sheet. I was thinking, if you wanted, I would just shop around a little. Just kind of—”

  “We’ve used them for fifteen years.” May now shook her head in fast jerks, a decision made. “I really wish you would’ve consulted us, dear. That is no way to do business.”

  “It’s just… well, the word on the street is that he shorts you about once a week. Also, most of the stuff in those packages is nearly out of date. It’s a hazard to your guests. Plus, you’re paying top dollar. It didn’t seem right.”

  “I just don’t know…” May’s disappointed expression turned to Dan.

  Dan scanned the paper in his hands. “These prices are about ten percent lower than what we’re paying. And Chef Luke just said yesterday that he needs better-quality materials. I’d thought he was just being uppity, but—”

  “The kid did a good job,” Jake cut in, his words clipped and precise. “Let her take care of the shipments. Seems like she’s experienced.”

  The paper crinkled in Dan’s hands as he and May looked at it with frowns. The second hand on the clock hanging on the back wall clicked as it counted out time. Sara’s palms started to sweat as she held her breath, waiting for the verdict.

  After an agonizing moment, May said, “Well, okay…” Sara could hear the uncertainty in the other woman’s voice.

  Dan shrugged, looking up at Sara. “It seems like you got yourself another duty. We’ll treat this like volunteer points. You can skip your other volunteer tasks if you want.”

  The breath rushed out of Sara’s lungs. “Oh no, that’s okay. This won’t take much time.” Sara started to back out of the room, both hands clutching the clipboard.

  “If you’re sure…” Three pairs of eyes stared after her.

  “Oh yes, I’ll fit it all in. I don’t have anything else to do.” She threw out a weird smile, not sure what to do with her face, just knowing they thought she’d lost her mind, and turned away abruptly.

  Technically, it was still a job well done. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get this deep into this business, though. She didn’t know if she wanted to do more than scratch the surface anywhere.

  Probably should have thought of that before she stuck her nose in it. The last thing she needed was to be fired and pushed away from Mikey again.

  Chapter 6

  The next day, Sara walked into the barn with a hesitant step. Metal gleamed against the walls, held in place by shelves and hooks. A sea of leather spread out around her, lying on every available surface. Worn leather saddles comprised most of the items, begging for conditioning.

  Jake had just finished laying out a saddle, hefting the large item off a stall wall and onto a sawhorse. He grabbed a bottle and a large rag and headed her way.

  Suddenly she wished she hadn’t agreed to continue this volunteer job.

  “Hi, Jake,” Sara said at his approach.

  His gaze skimmed her attire. “You�
��re gonna get dirty. Shoulda worn sum’in diff’rnt.”

  Sara held her hands out and looked down at her clothes. Gray shirt, faded jeans, sneakers. Uniform of champions. “I don’t have anything else.”

  Without ceremony, Jake pushed the bottle and rag at her. As soon as she grabbed it, he weaved in and out of saddles until he reached the far right corner. “Start at one end, work your way across.”

  With his own rag, he started rubbing the leather in circular motions. “See?”

  “Yes, Daniel-san. Sand the deck.”

  Pale blue eyes lifted, his hands slowing in their ministrations. His face had about as much expression as the saddle under his rag.

  “Got it,” she said. Some people missed all the cinematic classics.

  He returned to his work. She returned to watching him work. That was, until he lifted his gaze again, his hands once again slowing. It was amazing—no expression, no words or change in countenance whatsoever, but the guy had her scampering to the other side of the barn. His powers of persuasion were almost magical.

  She got into a rhythm, working the conditioner into the leather. Outside the barn, she could hear the faint rise and fall of conversation, accompanied by the occasional neigh of a horse. Inside the barn, however, the silence settled, thick and heavy. The only sound was of two rags on leather.

  “How is the season going so far?” she asked as her mind started to wander. “You guys filling your quota of guests?”

  Swish. Swish. Swish.

  “Dining room is picking up. Lots of people. I don’t clean the house, though, so I don’t know how many rooms are empty. Do you?”

  Swish. Swish. Swish.

  “Oh, hey, I met Mikey. Mike, I mean. Frost. He’s a childhood friend. Isn’t that nuts? That I would meet him here after all this time?”

  Swish. Swish. Swish.

  Sara nodded. She could take a hint.

  Eventually.

  * * *

  After a silent hour of grueling leather conditioning, Sara’s arm tingled from top to bottom, sore and achy. She sighed and straightened up, moving on to the next saddle. It was then she noticed two things. One, sometime in her mindless workhorse mentality, Jake had wandered out of the barn. No goodbye, no see-ya, no promises that she’d be the next karate kid if she kept it up. Nothing.