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

by Lindsey Pogue

  “Good evening, Mrs. Miller. I’m sorry I missed your call, I was in meetings all afternoon.” His voice is kind and velvety, and I remember thinking him very attractive the one and only time I’d ever met him.

  “This is actually Samantha, her, uh, daughter. I’m the one who rides Target. We met when you were here with your sister back in January.”

  “Ah, yes.” The way he says it makes my stomach flutter a little, though I’m not sure why. “I remember.”

  What sounds like typing on his end of the line brings me back to the point. “I had left you that message because I wanted to check in with you about a few things.” I don’t appreciate the unsteadiness of my voice.

  “Is everything okay with my sister’s horse?”

  I nod, as I usually do without thinking, and only after a prolonged moment of silence do I realize he can’t see me. “Um, yes, Target’s fine, but I have a confession to make, Mr. Naser. Hopefully not one that will worry you too much.”

  He laughs. “Please,” he says, “call me Adam. The last thing I want is to feel like my father, the old bastard.” He chuckles again. “So, what’s this confession, Ms. Miller?”

  I take a steadying breath, fanning in the fresh air from outside so I can breathe easier. “Well, although Target is absolutely fine, he did have a small adventure today I thought you should be aware of. Something must’ve spooked him,” I half lie. “Anyway, he knocked through the fence and went on a little joyride . . . er . . . run this afternoon.”

  Adam’s quiet a long moment, and my heart almost stops by the time he speaks again. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ms. Miller. I’ll pay for whatever damage—”

  “No, really, you don’t have to do that. Please, don’t worry about that at all. I just wanted you to be aware of it because, assuming Tara is still stopping by on Wednesday now that finals are over, he may still be limping a bit, and I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

  “Limping?”

  I wince, second-guessing that telling him a version of what had happened was the right thing to do. “Like I said, it’s nothing serious. He had a rock stuck in his shoe. It’s just bruised, but he might still be tender for the next couple days.”

  Papers rustle on the other end of the line and I hear the squeaking of a chair. “As long as it’s nothing serious, I won’t lose any sleep over it. Thank you for the heads-up.”

  “That’s my job,” I reply.

  “I’ll actually be in Saratoga Falls this week on business,” he says, catching me by surprise. “I was hoping I might be able to stop by. I’d like to drop off a board check for the rest of the year, if you don’t mind. That way I don’t have to worry about it. Plus, it gives me an excuse to check in on my sister and see how she’s been doing since she convinced me that allowing her to get a horse was a good idea.” When I say nothing, he continues, “My flight arrives tomorrow morning. I could stop by then.”

  My jaw slackens. “You’re—” I clear my throat. “You’re coming tomorrow?”

  “Yes, like I said, business,” he says, sounding a bit distracted.

  I’m not sure if it’s the thrill of excitement or the surprise in having him at the facility that’s making me sweat like a pig, but I smile and try not to let my tone give anything away. “Oh, that would be great!” I say it a little too enthusiastically, and I curse myself for sounding overeager.

  “Would it?” he asks with a chuckle. I can’t help but think he’s enjoying my obvious befrazzlement.

  I glance out the window, desperate for this conversation to end, when I notice Reilly staring up at me. Instantly, I look away. “Yes, of course it would. We love having our boarders out here as much as possible.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What time do you think you’ll head this way? Should we plan on a ride or something?”

  “Midmorning, I think. Before I get wrapped up in my afternoon meetings. And no, Ms. Miller, a ride won’t be necessary. I’ll leave that to my baby sister.”

  “Please,” I say, “call me Sam.”

  “Alright, Sam. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow then.”

  “Same here, Mr. Naser—”

  “Adam,” he corrects.

  “Okay. See you then, Adam,” I say, and with a goodbye, I hang up the phone.

  Tomorrow? Hosting a boarder isn’t on my list of things to do tomorrow. I groan but know it could be worse. It could be an old man with a beer gut that spits chew on my boot when he speaks that I’m meeting with, but it’s not. It’s Adam Naser, a young, successful exotic-featured charmer with a gorgeous smile, if I remember correctly.

  Reilly’s voice carries in on the breeze. I peer outside to see him playing with Petey, and I find myself strangely anxious for tomorrow to come.

  I could use a little distraction.

  Fourteen

  Reilly

  Petey fidgets in the shade, too hyper to lie down even for a moment while we wait for Nick to come back with beers. As much as I want to know how much trouble Petey’s actually caused in the months he’s been roaming around, I’m afraid to ask, especially after what I witnessed today. I don’t blame Sam for being angry, not after I’ve seen what they’ve done to the place—how much it’s changed and how hard they’ve been working to keep it running.

  Peering up into her window, a window I’ve looked up at many times in my childhood, I’m not surprised to see her gazing down at me. She’s on the phone, having an animated conversation with someone, and she’s actually smiling. Her cheeks are flushed.

  She holds my gaze a second longer, pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, then steps away from the window, leaving me wanting. Just wanting to see her, to remember what it used to be like between us, to know what she’s thinking and who she’s talking to that makes her smile reach her honey-colored eyes—it seems I want a lot of things I wasn’t expecting.

  Whistling tears my gaze away from her window.

  “Here,” Nick says, handing me a cold beer as he steps closer. “Your payment, as promised.”

  My throat’s dry from working out in the field and stacking firewood under the awning behind the barn, so I gladly accept the perspiring bottle. “Thanks.”

  Nick pops the cap off of his beer, then hands me his key ring.

  I glance over at the broken paddock wall. “But I think it’s me that owes you. I didn’t realize the old man’s dog had been such a pain. Hell, I didn’t even know he had a dog. I’m still trying to figure out why.”

  “Maybe he was lonely.”

  I shrug and open my beer bottle. Petey sniffs the cold bottle cap when it drops to the ground. “Leave it,” I say. He sits down and peers up at me, panting.

  I take a swig from my bottle and pick up the cap.

  “Things happen,” Nick says, and he lifts a shoulder. “It’s just a wood fence, and I have two-by-fours, nails, and a hammer. I think we’re good as gold. He’ll be okay in there tonight.”

  “Well, if you can think of anything else you need—materials, beer—let me know.”

  Nick shrugs. “I won’t say no to the beer.” He smiles, and we both stare at Target, eating in his stall. I almost grin at the haphazard patch job that Sam rigged over the broken boards with rope and stakes. It’s enough to give the horse the illusion that he can’t get out, at least.

  I take another swig of beer. Nothing compares to a cold beer after a long, hot day in the sun and being haunted by a woman you’re not sure you should want if even you could have her. I take another swig and study the label, surprised by the taste of citrus and the aroma of pine. “This is good. You drinking pale ales now? I thought you were a light beer man.”

  Nick pulls two rusted chairs over from behind the toolshed. “What can I say, I have a more sophisticated palate these days.” He sits down, gesturing to the chair beside him, and picks idly at the label on his bottle.

  I sit down in a rickety old patio chair that appears to be as weathered and rusted as the toolshed. It creaks under my weight, and I hold my brea
th a moment, waiting for it to break.

  It’s quiet for a minute, and I enjoy the sound of the ranch—what seems like a completely different world than my house on the next hill over. It’s quiet there, overwhelmingly still, and lonesome.

  “You’ll tell Sam I’m sorry again? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so upset.”

  Nick gives me a quick nod. “She’ll be okay,” he says. “She just gets worked up over this place a lot. She changed a lot after the accident, this place is her whole life.” I eye him, waiting for him to continue. I knew she wanted away from this place once Robert married Alison, but then, I guess things change when your life is turned upside down.

  “She’s never said anything to me,” Nick says, “but I know she thinks she’s letting her dad down if she can’t keep this place going—if she can’t work things out.”

  “So they’re having a hard time keeping the place afloat?” It seems in good condition and full enough of horses.

  “Yeah, Robert had just finished remodeling the farmhouse right before he died. He’d taken a loan out, that sort of thing.” Nick crosses his legs out in front of him. “He made his money on breeding and horse training, two things Sam never really learned much about, and Aunt Alison only just married into the family a couple years before he passed. Plus, he had some big contracts lined up that obviously never went through—the whole thing’s kind of a mess.”

  It’s hard to imagine what life was like right after he died, and part of me wishes I could’ve been here to help out in some way. “At least Alison and Sam have each other,” I say, glad that Sam’s not completely alone in this.

  Nick lets out a despondent sigh and leans his head back, staring up at the tree. “Aunt Alison is complicated. She and Sam live together, but they’re not a family. They act like they’re both alone in all of it. It’s really aggravating.” I study him, waiting for him to elaborate.

  Nick pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. “Sam never talks to me about it, because she knows I don’t think their relationship is healthy. But it’s obvious Aunt Alison blames Sam for what happened to Robert, even if she doesn’t actually say it.” Nick rubs his forehead and lets out a puff of smoke.

  My gaze travels back to Sam’s empty window. My grip tightens on the arm of the chair, and I resist the urge to walk upstairs to apologize to her again—an excuse to see her, to make sure she’s okay. “It sounds bad.”

  “Yeah, well, it is what it is. I can’t make either of them do anything,” Nick says, his voice strained as he takes another puff from his cancer stick. “They just have to figure it out on their own, I guess.”

  “Well, it’s good that they’ve got you.” I lean back in my chair. “I wish there was something I could do, but I’m not sure Sam would appreciate my help. Things are a little—complicated between us, if you couldn’t tell.”

  Nick brushes a few stray wood chips off his pants. “Yeah, I can tell. Mac’s worried about it.”

  His comment baffles me. “Why would Mac be worried?”

  Nick lifts an indifferent shoulder. “Why do girls cry when they’re happy, when they’re mad, and when they’re sad? The answer: I have no idea. Like I said, Sam doesn’t really talk to me about any of that stuff. I’m just the lowly ranch hand.”

  I smile because I know Nick’s joking.

  “Speaking of,” he says. “Did Mac talk to you about the camping trip next weekend? This lowly ranch hand is getting a whole weekend off work.”

  I look over at him and shake my head.

  “We’ll be gone for a couple days, headed up to Snake Canyon. Canoeing, cliff-diving, sleeping under the stars, that sort of thing. You in?”

  “God, I haven’t been up there in years.” I give him a sideways glance. “Who’s we?”

  “Mac, Sam, me, and probably half the town, given the summer temperature is at its peak. Oh, and Savannah, hopefully.”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “Why? Because of Sam?” Nick takes another drag of his cigarette. “I honestly think it will be good for you guys. It will force you to talk things out.”

  “It’s not just that. I’ve got a ton to do, and as it is, I’m not going to get out of here in a month.”

  “You want to leave us again that bad, huh?”

  I shake my head. “I just don’t feel at home here anymore. I’m tearing my dad’s place down, I don’t have a job, I miss my routines and traveling.” For the tenth time, I peer up at Sam’s vacant bedroom window. “It’s too secluded here, anyway. I think too much.”

  “So,” Nick says, taking a final puff of his cigarette, “you’re serious about enlisting again then, huh?”

  I nod. “It’s the only thing that really makes any sense. It’s not like I have family here anymore, and I gave up any sort of career in baseball when I left.”

  “Well, you’ll miss my beautiful face when you’re gone, but I’ll send you a photo, you can keep it on your wall.”

  I laugh. “I can’t wait.”

  Nick stands up. “Well, then. If you’re really going to leave us again, you better come camping. It might be the last time you ever get to. Plus, you can get some closure with Sam.”

  I eye him a moment.

  “So,” Nick prompts, polishing off the rest of his beer. “You in or what? You down for the mission-that-seems-impossible?”

  After a brief hesitation, I nod. “I’m in.”

  Fifteen

  Sam

  In preparation for Adam’s arrival at the ranch, I muck out Shasta’s stall, moving her to one of the arenas so that Target can have hers while the guys hammer on his. I decide that’s easier than hauling extra supplies and food out of one of the other stalls to use. I bathe him after examining his injured hoof, and my ill ease subsides when I discover there’s little sensitivity. I probably hadn’t even needed to call Adam about the incident in the first place. But even though his seven-thousand-dollar gelding seems to be back to his old, spunky self, I can’t shake the eagerness that’s been keeping me on edge for the past twelve hours. Something in Adam’s voice last night brightened my mood and that makes me anxious.

  I’ve been lost in my own world for months—just over thirty-six, actually—and I’m not sure I know how to talk to guys anymore, let alone tell if they’re flirting or just being nice.

  But you do know how to be professional.

  I tell myself this because it’s true, and it helps steady my unease for a couple strokes of the curry comb over Target’s dark withers. It’s still relatively early, so there are no other riders out yet today, which gives the bay gelding and me access to whatever we need without being in anyone’s way.

  Just as I move him into Shasta’s stall, Alison’s voice booms from up at the house.

  “I have clients to keep happy, Jeff. Make it happen.”

  I peer through the grated window of Shasta’s stall.

  Alison clicks off her phone and drops it in her purse, holding a stack of mail against her chest as she fumbles to open the screen door. Even though I rarely witness moments like this, it’s reassuring to hear her urgency and know she’s making an effort to help keep this place going.

  Nick and Reilly banter back and forth somewhere outside. Despite the conflicting feelings I have for our completely off-limits client, my meeting with him is overshadowed by my biggest concern of the day: Petey. The last thing I want is that dog spooking the horses and us looking incompetent in front of Adam—or him being injured in any way, God forbid. Even the thought of a lawsuit, of what a powerful man like him can do, makes me want to call Adam and cancel the meeting, claiming I have the flu and he’ll have to reschedule with Alison.

  Patting Target’s rump, I leave him in the stall and step outside, latching the gate shut behind me. My footsteps echo through the stable as I hurry down the walkway, surrounded by cedar-slatted stall walls. I take a deep breath and let the aroma of leather, hay, cedar, and the earthy scent of grain remind me that this is what I know, this is my ow
n little kingdom.

  I step beyond the stable and peer out at the ranch. Without my hat, I can barely see in the bright sunshine, so I shield my eyes with my hand as I scour the ranch for Petey. I try not to get too excited that I don’t see him, knowing he could be lying in wait somewhere in the shade.

  When Nick and Reilly stride into view I hurry over to them.

  “Look at you,” Nick says. “You’re all professional and shit with your jeans and your work shirt.” He laughs as he takes the sight of me in.

  I glare at him, then refocus on Reilly. “Did you leave Petey at home, like I asked?” I simper. “Pretty please,” I amend with a pitiful, apologetic smile.

  Reilly’s mouth curves into a smile, and he nods. “Yes, I did.”

  “And you’ll wait to start working on Target’s stall until after Adam leaves, right?”

  “Yes, Sam. We got it,” Nick says, and he nudges my shoulder gently. “Everything’s going to be fine. Stop worrying so much.”

  “Why is this guy such a big deal?” Reilly asks. He pulls his gloves on. “I mean, don’t you do this sort of thing all the time?”

  “Yeah,” Nick says, too much entertainment in his voice. “But most of our boarders are chicks. Adam Naser’s some young, big-shot banker from Dallas, and”—he folds his hands beneath his chin and flutters his eyelashes—“a dreamy one at that.”

  I smack Nick in his nonexistent gut, though by his reaction you’d think I’d punched him in the groin. “You’re hilarious,” I mutter and glance out at Shasta, basking in the morning sunshine, right as rain. “What if I make an ass out of myself?” I say it like it’s just Nick and I, and when I remember Reilly’s standing there, I look at him, a little self-conscious.

  “Wait, we’re talking about a client, not a potential date, right?” Nick teases, but I don’t find it funny.

  “Yes, he’s only a client,” I say snidely. “Never mind, I don’t know why I bother talking to you guys.”

  I turn and head back into the stable when the sound of gravel under tires reaches my ears. Counting to five, I give Adam time to park and myself time to rally my wits before striding out from hiding to welcome him to the Miller Ranch Boarding Facility.