Fifty-Four
Bethany
Peering up at the exposed beams, freshly stained cherrywood, I admire Nick’s work. Having seen the before photos and watching him add in the final touches, I wonder if he doesn’t still hold a small place in his heart for architecture and design, no matter how much his dad has tainted it for him.
The barn is beautiful, a perfect representation of all that’s happened in the past month. Relationships, broken and ignored, that only needed a little elbow grease and attention. Now, Sam has this amazing place to call her own, and Nick and I have by far the best project in class. It only took tears and heartache to make it happen.
I unwrap the final indigo embroidered lampshade and screw it into place. It’s all come together so nicely, I almost hate to call my work finished. Almost.
A shadow descends over me in the sunlight, and I peer down at the open slider.
“Oh my God, it’s amazing!” Mac gasps in the doorway as she and Sam step inside, Sam’s boots and Mac’s wedges clomping in unison on the cement. “Sam told me it was almost finished, but I never imagined . . .” Mac glances from me to Sam. “This was the barn,” she says, in complete amazement.
“Yeah, good job, Mac,” Sam drawls and they walk further inside. Sam runs her fingers over the reclaimed wood surface of the counter. “I think my favorite part of all of this is the chalkboard wall. We’ve needed a central message board for so long.”
“Now, if you could only reach it,” Mac murmurs, and I stifle a laugh.
I haven’t talked to Sam or Mac much since the beach, I’ve been too busy, and I think Sam, in particular, has been giving me my space.
Crumpling up my discarded packing materials, I head down the loft steps to my garbage pile on the floor. “You’ll have a rolling ladder for the chalkboard soon,” I say, glancing at Sam. “Nick put it together out back. He’s going to finish installing it tomorrow, once he gets the rails in.”
I survey the brushed metals and warm woods that fill the space—industrial and contemporary with a rustic flare, exactly the way I’d envisioned it when I first started the project. There’s exposed shelving, soon to be filled with informational books and purchasable horse products, large, drop-down hanging fans to help with the summer heat, and the old barn doors that serve as a conference table.
Everything is functional. Everything is chic. Everything is perfect, and I can’t remember a time in life that I’ve been so proud of myself. “Everything should be finished by tomorrow,” I tell her. “A day ahead of schedule.”
Sam laughs and plops down on one of the wood benches at the conference table. “You could’ve finished after graduation, for all I care.”
“Well, I’m an overachiever,” I admit. “And, mostly, I wanted to shove this project in my professor’s face.”
“That’s what Nick said.” She splays her hands out on the tabletop. “So, this is where we’ll be meeting with boarders now, huh?”
I shove a ball of plastic wrap and used zip ties into the trashcan. “If you want. Alison will be upstairs, I’m assuming, so you can do whatever you want down here.”
“Oh my God!” Mac gasps from the photo wall. “I haven’t seen this picture in years.” She looks over at us, mouth parted and gaze set on Sam. “Have you seen these?”
My heart thumps a bit too wildly for my liking, and I hold my breath as Sam walks over to the photos. They both stare at the wall—at the old pictures of them as kids, Sam and Mac on horses, some with Sam’s dad around the ranch.
Sam looks at me. “Where did you find these?” Her voice is barely a whisper, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I swallow. “Um, in an old box of office stuff I was going through that Alison brought out last week. I had a few hundred dollars left in the budget, so I got them all matted and framed. I figured they were a part of this place and they should be displayed, not discarded in a box somewhere. I hope you don’t mind.”
Gaze fixed on the wall, Sam slowly shakes her head. “I love it,” she breathes. Then she looks at me again, shoving her hands in her back pockets. “Thank you, Bethany.”
I feel my cheeks burn a little. “You’re welcome.” Sam reaches out and touches the frame of the largest photo—the one of her dad—and my heart breaks for her a little bit.
With a subtle smile and what looks like gratitude in her eyes, Mac walks back to the conference table, leaving Sam to her thoughts. “You want to do my office next?” She looks at me, hopeful.
“Maybe after things calm down a little,” I tell her. I still have graduation and grad school to worry about. “I can’t really take on another project right now.”
“Drats. Well”—she shrugs—“if you change your mind, let me know. I have to warn you though, Sam tells me I’m high maintenance, so you’ll have that to deal with.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say with a chuckle. I appreciate the pleasantries, but I’m still trying to figure out why they’re both here, exactly.
“So,” Sam starts, as she joins Mac at the table. “What are you doing tonight, Bethany?”
Her question surprises me. I brush my hands off on my jeans and glance between them. They look a tad uncertain and expectant. “Hopefully celebrating my GRE score. I get the results in about an hour.” They look at each other, and I swallow. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, we wanted to invite you up to Mac’s rooftop tonight,” Sam says.
“Why, are you going to push me off,” I say glibly, but they don’t laugh at my joke.
Instead, they look at each other again, and Mac takes a few steps toward me. “Look, we’re sorry about what happened at the beach. We were total assholes—Sam, specifically.”
Sam rolls her eyes. “Thanks.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“You guys, you don’t have to apologize,” I tell them, waving the impending awkwardness away. “It’s fine.” I don’t want to go back and rehash the past, not when I feel like things are finally moving forward.
“No,” Sam says, coming closer. “It’s not fine. And, as a true apology, we wanted to invite you to our super-secret, girls only, rooftop drinking and stargazing night out. It’s tradition when the weather starts getting warmer . . . We thought it would be nice to add another girl to our group, seeing how it’s always been just the two of us.”
Mac looks at Sam and puts her hands on her hips. “Two is pretty pathetic.”
Sam nods and looks at me. “So, what do you think?”
In all my life, I never thought I would be invited into Sam and Mac’s personal circle that’s only ever consisted of them. It’s touching and makes me happy, which is why I hate that I have to say no. “Can I take a rain check? I’m meeting Nick tonight when he gets off,” I explain.
“Yeah, but that’s at like, two,” Mac says with a scoff. “We can get in plenty of girl time before then. Besides, I have a ton of questions I want to ask you.”
“Well,” I say, unable to resist a smile. A night of interrogation isn’t on the top of my bucket list. “As awesome as that sounds, I’m working on a surprise for Nick, and I have a lot to do before he gets off.” Then it hits me—between the two of them, they know everyone. “Actually . . .” I take a step toward them. “Maybe you guys can help me.”
Fifty-Five
Nick
I ignore my exhaustion as I hurry up the stairs to my apartment. I know Bethany’s there, waiting for me. She’s probably asleep, but other than working on the barn, I haven’t seen her in a couple days, and I’m jonesing to feel her in my arms.
The living room light glows through the curtains, and selfishly I hope she’s still awake, even though it’s nearly 3AM. Better than that, when I open the door, I’m greeted with Bethany wearing a slinky baseball outfit that hugs her in all the right places and exposes her legs for days and a heart-stopping smile.
“Holy hell,” I rasp and drop my jacket at the door. “What the hell did I do to deserve this?” I step inside, unable
to contain my smile.
She walks over to me, cheeks flushed, like she’s embarrassed, but it makes me want her all the more. “You did all this for me?”
“No,” she says, “Chris Evans is on his way, I thought he might like it.”
I frown. “What?”
“Captain America—never mind. It was a joke.” She wraps her arms around me. “Chris already left.” With a wink, she leans in for a kiss.
“Hey now.” I growl against her mouth, making her laugh. “No teasing me.” I pull her in for another kiss, inhaling her scent I’ve been deprived of.
“Wait,” she says, pressing her hands to my chest. “Before you get too excited, I have something for you.”
“I thought you were my surprise.”
“Only part of it.” She winks again and trots into the kitchen. She returns with a cocktail glass in each hand. “Please, Mr. Turner, have a seat.”
She nods to the couch, and I sit down. I’m not sure what the hell is going on as I take my glass from her.
My eyes widen. “Is this the pickle martini?”
“Try it and see.”
I bring it to my nose, knowing it doesn’t smell right but then Bethany isn’t a bartender, so I don’t say anything. Tentatively, I take a sip. I cringe as the liquid goes down, and nearly spit out the contents.
“Say cheese,” she says and snaps a picture of me with her phone. She’s laughing uncontrollably, and I realize I’ve just been duped. “You sneaky sphynx. You gave me a Manhattan?” I shake my head, incredulous. She knows I don’t like vermouth.
“I have proof your scrunchy-face was worse than mine. I think that means I just won the bet.”
“The outfit is your apology, then?” I wipe the taste of it from my lips. “Trickery,” I mumble.
Bethany leans in. “There’s one more thing,” she says and hands me the cocktail she had in her other hand. “This is the martini. I promise.”
She climbs off the couch and hurries down the hall.
“This better be a legit drink or you’re going to be sorry,” I call. I take a sip and moan. “Much better.”
“Here’s your surprise,” she says behind me, and I turn around to find her holding a metal placard the size of a baseball diamond that’s etched with a black and red serif font – Shortstop.
“What the hell?” I breathe, and get up from the couch. I’ve been thinking a lot about the bar, but until tonight, I hadn’t decided anything. I take the sign from her, the weight of it in my hands giving me chills. “You made a sign for me?”
She shrugs. “Mac, Sam, and I thought you might need a bit of motivation. So, they helped me pull some strings.”
“They did, did they? And what, may I ask, makes you think I’m actually going to do this?”
“Because you want to and there’s nothing stopping you now,” she says so sure of herself.
My heart is hammering in my chest at the possibility, and I can’t get a single word out before I pull her into my arms. I barely register the sound of the sign hitting the ground as I take her lips in mine and kiss her senseless.
That’s when it hits me. “The outfit,” I say. Bethany bats her eyelashes at me. “The drink . . .” It’s my fantasy—well, a joke, anyway.
“I won’t hold it against you that you didn’t pick up on it sooner. You’ve had a long night.”
I kiss her again, more gently this time and breathe her in. “Well, it looks like we have another project to work on after graduation.” It’s both a declaration and a warning—she better get out now, while she can.
“Good.” Her stormy gray eyes search mine. I worry for a split second that I’ll find a shred of doubt in them, but there is none. Her smile widens instead. “This is really going to work, isn’t it?” she asks, like she’s realizing for the first time what I’ve known all along.
“Of course it is. I told you so, didn’t I?” I take a step back, ready to boast my victory, then remember the whole reason she was coming over tonight. “Wait, you haven’t even mentioned your test . . . did you get your score?”
She shrugs and looks down at her feet. “I only got an eight hundred,” she murmurs, but when she looks at me again, her smile is wide and she begins jumping up and down, like she suddenly can’t contain herself, like she’s been holding in her excitement for too long.
“And you were worried.” I shake my head. “This is cause to celebrate.” I lift her into my arms. “Bethany Fairchild,” I tell her, licking my lips. She giggles and looks at me expectantly as I walk her down the hallway. “I’m going to immortalize your body right now. Do you have any objections?”
With a trill of laughter, she shakes her head, her ponytail tickling the backs of my arms. “No objections.”
“Good,” I say, triumphantly tossing her down onto my bed. “Because I am never letting you leave my room.”
Epilogue
Nick
8 Months Later
“Nick,” Bethany grunts from over by the unpacked inventory. “I need help with this one.” She huffs, and the strain in her voice has me maneuvering around Anna Marie and Trent, my two staff for the night, and into the back room as quickly as I can.
“Babe,” I chide, taking the case of beer from her. “I told you I got these ones. If you really want to help, make sure Anna doesn’t drink all the bubbles before I get a chance to officially open the bar.”
Bethany gives me “the look” but pecks me on the cheek. “Let’s be honest, you’re only stocking it for her anyway,” she clarifies.
“Yeah, I know. How did I let her talk me into that, exactly?”
With an airy laugh, Bethany brushes her hair out of her face. “It seems I’m not the only one who can’t tell her no.”
I concede and shake my head. “Hey, I thought you were supposed to be at home studying? Your final is important. You don’t have to help me get ready for tonight.”
Bethany wraps her arms around my neck and tilts her head to the side, giving me another one of her looks. “Grad school is important, but this is huge, and I want to be here with you. Studying can wait for one night.”
Slowly, I lean in and kiss her. Happy. Grateful. None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for her. “I love you,” I say, breathing her in. Everything about her is comforting and makes me feel whole.
“I love you, too, but you can show me later.” She winks and turns to walk away. “We have an opening to prepare for—oh,” she says, stopping short. “My dad said he’d be late—some meeting or something. But they’re definitely coming.”
“Good. I couldn’t have done this without him.”
Bethany’s mouth quirks up and she studies me a moment.
“What’s that look for?”
“I think it’s good you two are partners,” she finally says. “It’s forced him to get to know you better.”
“True, and I got my dream bar in the process. But, if everything works out accordingly, we won’t have to be business partners for much longer.”
Bethany shrugs. “He knows you’re good for the money. My dad might have a big learning curve when it comes to fatherhood, but when it comes to this stuff he knows his shit. He wouldn’t invest in a risk.”
I follow behind Bethany and set the case of beer down on the counter beside Trent. “These can go in the fridge when you get a sec.”
Trent nods.
“Like I told Bethany,” Anna Marie says. “We got this.” She finishes lighting the votive holders. “Go say hi to your early arrivals. I’ll keep an eye on everything back here, don’t you worry about a thing.” She winks, her smile mischievous as always.
“I’m going to regret hiring you, aren’t I?”
She tosses her brown hair back and lifts her shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s only one night a week. How much trouble can I get into?”
“Ha! Do I even need to answer that?” Taking a deep breath, I peer around the bar, making sure everything is in place. It’s exactly how I’d always pictured it—Mac’s
photos of the crew over the years, of baseball and hockey games, camping and beach trips lining the brick walls, black and white photos of old Downtown Saratoga for that nostalgic flare I wish we could stay in forever.
“Yo, Nick!” Mac calls as she and the gang walk through the front door. She’s dressed like it’s a fashion show, not a bar opening, and I welcome her with a smile. They’ve seen the bar a hundred times already, the guys helping me gut the place and the ladies taking the lead on the finishing touches, but they look around in awe all the same.
Sam moves in for a hug first, and I have to bend down to fully appreciate it. “I’m so happy for you,” she says, squeezing me. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Sam. It only took eight months.” I nod behind me. “Bethany’s back there.”
Sam kisses my cheek and heads over to the bar.
“Eight months is nothing for a lifetime of living your dream,” Mac admonishes, and I pull her in for the next hug. “I have to say, my photos look great in this lighting.”
Chuckling, I give her a final squeeze and let her go. “I’m glad you think so, Mac. Your happiness is all that matters to me.”
I shake Colton’s hand and glance around for the squirt. “You didn’t bring mini you tonight, Mac? I thought she’d want to see her handy work.” I point to the picture Casey colored for me, hanging front and center on the wall.
Colton laughs. “As much as I like you Nick, I would never let my six-year-old daughter come into your bar.”
“All right,” I say. “All right. We’ll revisit this conversation when she’s seven.”
Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series Page 94
