Whatever It Takes (A Saratoga Falls Love Story Book 1)

by Lindsey Pogue

  Mac’s eyes alight and she grins. “Shall we introduce ourselves?” Her smile is wicked, and for a moment, I wonder if that’s such a good idea, given the bottle of wine we just shared, but I nod anyway.

  For a brief moment, my gaze meets Nick’s. His eyes shift rapidly between Mac and me. I try to offer him a reassuring smile, but Nick knows Mac too well to think we’re simply ordering a drink.

  Savannah’s on the opposite end of the bar from Nick, concocting a line of drinks that are bright blue and fancy looking. “Those look delicious,” I say above the loud group standing at the counter, chatting and waiting for their drinks.

  Savannah smiles as we squeeze up against the bar to wait our turn. “Don’t they? They’re AMFs.”

  “They’re what?” I ask, leaning closer. The countertop is a little sticky, but I try to ignore it as I strain to hear her.

  “Adios Motherfuckers,” Savannah says, her smile turning devious. “They’re pretty good.”

  Mac’s eyes are narrowed and scheming when she looks at me and nods. “They sound dangerous. We should try one.”

  As I shake my head, Mac orders two, one for each of us, and I know this night is going to end badly for me.

  Savannah grins. “Sounds like you ladies are looking to have some fun tonight.”

  “Sam, here,” Mac says, pointing over her shoulder at me. She leans forward so Savannah can hear her clearly. “Sam has no idea how to let loose, so I’m going to help her with that tonight.”

  “I’m Sam,” I say, extending my hand to her.

  Savannah accepts it, dark blue eyes cautious as she glances between Mac and me. “Savannah,” she says. I can tell she’s putting the pieces together. She’s heard of us, from Nick no doubt.

  “And I’m Mac.” Mac offers her hand, too, and I’m concerned by her expression.

  Savannah shakes Mac’s hand briefly and, with a nod, goes back to work, pouring our drinks.

  “So,” Mac says, “what do you think about Nick?”

  Savannah’s features scrunch infinitesimally.

  “Here we go,” I mutter, and I settle in on a stool crammed up against the bar as Mac pulls out the big guns.

  “Why is that any of your business?” Savannah asks, and her demeanor shifts from friendly and conversational to closed-off and stilted. I watch as she pours vodka on top of rum on top of gin, and I feel drunk just watching her. When Savannah’s finished, she levels her gaze on Mac, waiting for an explanation.

  Mac points to Nick. “He’s like our brother, and for some reason he likes you.”

  “That came out wrong,” I’m quick to say, and I jab Mac with my elbow. “Way to make a winning impression.”

  “I’m not trying to impress her,” Mac says, blunt as can be.

  “What are you trying to do? Threaten me?” Savannah seems unfazed. As a pretty, female bartender, I can imagine she’s had experience with a ton of personalities in her face. She humors Mac. “If you are, I’m not sure it’s working.”

  Mac feigns a laugh. “I want to make sure you know you have us to answer to if you fuck around with him and break his heart.”

  I feel sorry for Nick already. He should’ve brought her around us sooner, in a safer environment. Unsupervised, Mac’s claws start coming out. I lean over the bar again. “You’ll have to excuse Mac, she’s very protective and doesn’t really have a filter.”

  Mac stares at me, incredulous. “Of course I’m protective. Who else is going to look out for him? He’s too sweet. He keeps getting his heart stomped on.”

  “True,” I say and shrug in agreeance.

  Savannah’s gaze sharpens on Mac and then on me before she glances over at Nick, who’s smiling and flirting—as most bartenders do—with a woman he’s helping at the end of the bar.

  “He has no idea you’re threatening me right now, does he?” I catch a hint of amusement in Savannah’s voice.

  Mac scoffs. “Of course not.” She slaps fifteen dollars on the bar. “He’d kill me.” She points to the money. “Keep the change.”

  Savannah’s clearly suppressing a smile as she slides our drinks to us. “Enjoy, ladies.”

  Always the brave one, Mac smiles with anticipation and takes a sip first. Her eyes flutter closed and she licks her lips. “You’re right, they’re scrumptious.” She takes another drink.

  Finally, I venture a try. I can barely taste the alcohol, but it’s clearly in there. I watched Savannah pour shot on top of shot. “They’re trouble is what they are,” I mumble.

  Mac winks at me. “Precisely.”

  I shake my head at incorrigible Mac and turn to Savannah. “So, are you going on the canoeing trip with us?” I ask, trying to tone down the tension a bit. “It’s a lot of fun.”

  Savannah peels her gaze away from Mac, like she’s an intriguing conundrum, and looks at me as she lets a small smile slip through. “I don’t know. I was thinking about it. Now that I know she’s going”—Savannah glances back at Mac—“I might have to rethink that decision.”

  Mac bursts out with a laugh. “You’re funny. I like you.”

  Like he’d been trying to get over to us sooner, Nick sidles up to Savannah with a bar rag draped over his shoulder. He looks a little anxious as his eyes dart around to each of us. “You got here just in time,” he says, smiling at Mac and me. “I’m off in a few.”

  His gaze skirts to Savannah but she quickly busies herself wiping off the bar, like she doesn’t want to give anything that’s between them away. I’m happy that he has someone he can focus on, something other than the ranch and school. But all happy thoughts evaporate when I hear a grossly familiar voice in the crowd behind me. “Excuse me. Move please. Move!” Nick’s smile falters.

  “Great,” I mutter and look at Mac.

  Bethany pushes her way in beside me at the bar. I look over my shoulder, meeting her grey-green eyes before they shift to Nick. Savannah murmurs something to him, smiles—probably completely oblivious to who and what Bethany is to our group—and walks away.

  Bethany makes a disgruntled noise. “I’ll have a whisky sour,” she says almost coolly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was jealous of Savannah—which would make absolutely no sense, given the fact Nick’s been in love with Bethany since . . . middle school? She’s never given him the time of day.

  Everything about her is infuriating, so I take a long pull from my straw to cool me off.

  “Let’s go,” I tell Mac. “Talk about a buzzkill.”

  Mac snorts and we step away. “It was nice meeting you, Savannah!” I call down the bar, and she gives us a partial wave. “Way to make our first encounter awkward,” I tell Mac. “She’s probably trying to figure out whether or not she hates us.”

  Waving my comment away, Mac takes a sip of her drink and scours the room. “She’ll remember us,” she says over the boisterous crowd. “That’s the point.”

  Some guy I recognize from high school but haven’t seen in ages comes up to Mac. She beams and nearly shrieks as she wraps her arms around him. She holds her finger up for me to wait, but I point toward the section of tables so that she knows I’m venturing out, deeper into the throng of people.

  With so many folks out dancing, I easily spot an empty cocktail table in the corner and head over to claim it. Given the fact that Lick’s is pretty packed tonight, I’m surprised Nick is off so early, but then Nick’s best buds with Brady, the owner, and can probably get whatever shift he wants. I glance around at what looks like half of Saratoga Falls filling the place. Even though the population of our agricultural retirement town is meager, I doubt that’s true.

  When the song changes, banjos and tambourines fill the air and everyone stops grinding on each other and steps into rows. I’ve never been into the whole country-western-dancing thing, but before the night is over, I know Mac will have me out on the dance floor with her, acting like a fool and having fun. Damn her, she’s always been good at that.

  “No dancing tonight?”

  I spin aro
und to face Reilly, nearly splashing my drink all over my strappy sundress. He’s standing so close I can feel heat radiating from his body. Or is it my body? I lick my lips. “Um, no, probably not. At least not right now.” It hits me that the last time I went dancing was with Reilly, at some fancy dinner place my senior year, right before he shipped off. He’d kissed me passionately—almost desperately—on the dancefloor that night. I remember the whirr of conversations surrounding us was almost muted as I breathed him in, wanting to keep his rich, warm familiar scent locked away for later when he was gone and I was alone.

  I hope to God he can’t see the memory replaying anywhere on my face. His gaze lingers on my lips, then shifts to my eyes. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I don’t appreciate how jittery his presence makes me. And just as I anticipated, all I can think about is him standing beside me in the lake, the feel of his arms and how much I miss them. I clear my throat, feeling perspiration sticky on the back of my neck.

  Turning back toward the table, I take another sip of my drink, trying to focus on the tinge of bitterness I can taste over the syrupy sweetness. But for some reason, all I can picture is Reilly standing behind me, the way his shoulders fill out his t-shirt and his jaw clenching under his freshly shaven face.

  The air shifts behind me and Reilly leans closer, his arm barely touching mine as he sets his beer down on the table. His fingers release the sweaty bottle, and the memory of his burning touch against my cool skin in the morning breeze sends a blaze of fire through me. I take another drink.

  Reilly doesn’t move away, but leans down to my ear. I’m acutely aware that either I need to stop drinking or I need to drink more if I’m going to get through the night without losing my mind entirely.

  He takes a breath and I think he’s about to say something when I hear her voice again, and Bethany’s rushing over to us—to Reilly. I turn around just in time to watch her arms wrap around his shoulders in a giant hug. He doesn’t flinch or attempt to push her away, but then again, why would he?

  I bristle and take a few more sips of my drink, glancing around for Mac, praying she’d get the hell over here, when Bethany gets a phone call and steps out of the bar. I sit down on the stool and take another drink, glad it’s loud so Reilly and I aren’t there together in silence.

  “Any battle wounds from the other morning?” he asks, close to my ear so that he doesn’t have to shout.

  Mortification. Mortification and anger send my fuzzying mind scrambling, and I don’t think I can even look at him. He’s going to flirt with Bethany, let her fawn all over him—hang on him—then talk to me about the last time we were together and I was naked? I’m tired of Bethany inserting herself in my life. “Can we just forget about the lake, please?” I say it as coolly as possible, but I’m really silently begging and pleading with him to never bring it up again.

  When Reilly doesn’t say anything, I turn slightly to face him. He blinks, his lips pursed, and he offers me a tight-lipped smile. “Sure.” He straightens and looks past me, his false smile wavering, then he finally meets my gaze again. “Does this mean we can’t be friends, at least while I’m home?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “What?” he asks in my ear. “I can’t hear you.”

  I crane my neck so I’m closer to him, and I immediately love and regret the decision. His scent—soapy and clean—floods my nostrils. “I said, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  Reilly leans in close enough to kiss me. “Why’s that?”

  Because everything’s different, things are confusing, and you broke my heart. A loud, crowded bar isn’t the place, so I say nothing.

  “Don’t you think,” he continues in my ear, “that it would make this whole situation a lot easier if we could try to put the past behind us?”

  Put the past behind us? Like that’s so easy to do with Bethany popping up everywhere and Mike being in town and Reilly being back . . .

  I step away from him, not liking how messy my thoughts are when he’s around. Distance always makes things easier, I’ve learned. I’m even more relieved when I see Mac finally heading toward us. Her face lights up and she’s suddenly so giddy she’s practically jumping up and down.

  Setting her drink down on the table, Mac throws her arms around Reilly’s neck. “You’re home!” she squeals.

  Reilly’s arms wrap around her, and a slight pang of envy weasels its way in as I consider how easy their friendship is.

  “It’s been too long,” Mac chides. “And I can’t believe I haven’t seen you until now. It’s not like we live in the same small-ass town or anything.” Though it’s loud with the music and all the raised voices, I’m close enough to hear them—to smell Reilly’s clean clothes and the lilac perfume Mac loves to wear so much.

  It’s too much. The room is too much—too warm and confined. I twist my hair up and off my back and take a deep breath.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been pretty busy around my old man’s place.”

  Reluctantly, Mac unwinds herself from him and steps back. She scans his body and shakes her head. “Exactly as I pictured you,” she says mostly to herself. “Better, actually.” And though I don’t think Reilly can hear her, he shoots her a sideways glance.

  Mac picks up her drink, hands Reilly’s beer to him, then nods at me to raise my glass. “Welcome home!” she says to him, flashing her megawatt smile.

  We cheers, and the three of us clink bottles and glasses, ending it with a hearty drink, though I take a few more pulls than the rest of them.

  Glancing around for Nick, I’m not really surprised to find he’s still chatting it up with Savannah behind the bar. I slurp a few more times through my straw, slightly aware of the fuzziness of my brain.

  “So, Nick told me how crazy the house situation is. How are all the renovations going?” Mac takes a drink of her blue AMF and sets it back down. Her glass is more than half full still.

  “Whoops,” I mumble. Mine is practically gone.

  Reilly shrugs. “Renovations could be better, but it is what it is.” Shoving one hand in his pocket, Reilly takes another swig of his beer. His stance is straighter, his body bigger, his face marred with small scars. He’s a man now, a beautiful one that almost feels like a stranger, but I can still see the-boy-next-door in there, too.

  “That bad, huh?” Mac’s eyebrows raise in sympathy.

  Reilly lifts a shoulder again and offers her an awkward smile. “I guess I didn’t realize how bad things were before he passed. The place is a shithole, worse than I remember. Let’s just say there’s a lot to do.”

  All I can think about is how long the renovations will take him and that eventually he’ll be gone again. The noise echoing over the lake will be gone, and everything will be silent again. The chance run-ins will be no more. I’m not sure if that makes me happy or sad. “When are you leaving again?” I ask.

  Both Reilly and Mac look at me. Mac’s head tilts and she pins me with a WTF scowl. That was so rude is written all over her face. Remotely, I’m aware that the booze is starting to kick in and my filter is disintegrating. “That probably came out wrong,” I say.

  “Hopefully soon,” Reilly finally answers. “You want me gone that badly already, huh?”

  I shrug, thinking about it. “It would be easier,” I say honestly. This time, when I try to take another sip of my AMF, my straw gurgles, and I come up empty. I peer down at my liquidless glass.

  “Sam,” Mac hisses.

  “What?” She snatches my empty glass away and sets it on the table beside her, her expression condemning. I refrain from pointing out that she’s the one who bought me the drink in the first place. She’s the one who wanted to come see Reilly. She’s the one who wanted me to loosen up.

  “Sorry about Sam,” Mac says, apologizing to Reilly. “Clearly the wine and the drink aren’t boding well for her tonight.”

  I glare at her.

  “It’s fine,” Reilly says
, studying me a moment longer before he takes a swing of his beer and walks away.

  I’m trying to figure out what I said that was so offensive, but I come up empty. I was honest and wasn’t rude, at least not intentionally.

  When Reilly’s out of earshot, Mac leans across the table, glowering. “What the hell is your problem, Sam?”

  “I don’t have a problem. I was just asking a simple question, Jesus.”

  Mac studies me a minute. “What is this really about? The incident at the lake or is it something else? I know you guys have a convoluted history that makes all of this a little difficult for you, but really.”

  “What did I say that’s so horrible?”

  “His father just died, Sam. Remember how that feels?”

  Her words bite into me, tear at my flesh and leave an open, gaping wound that makes the backs of my eyes sting.

  She must see the injury of her words because her narrowed expression softens. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. But worst father of the year or not, John’s death has got to be hard on Reilly. I can’t believe you told him it would be easier if he just left.” As she repeats my words back to me, nausea and guilt churn in my gut.

  “That didn’t come out right,” I say. “I’ll apologize to him, okay?”

  But when I glace up and see Reilly chatting and smiling with Bethany again, I forget about my apology and decide it’s time I remove myself from this equation for the night. I knew coming down here would be a mistake.

  I walk past Mac, not needing her or anyone else’s judgement tonight.

  “Sam!” Mac calls behind me, but I keep walking. I push through the entrance, hoping the fresh air will clear my head and rid me of the unwanted weight hovering over my heart. But it isn’t fresh air that will help me right now, I already know that. I want to feel the raw burn, the release. I need it. I find the cut below my hip and rub it reassuringly.