Chapter Three #2
Julianna just didn’t understand how refreshing that kind of support was.
Back at Natalie’s prior job with Thinkology, changing departments, let alone positions, was frowned upon.
Seen as treachery. So she’d stuck it out in the same division, promoted only once in the thirteen years she was there, and worked her tail off day after day with the insatiable need to prove her worth.
Thirteen years of working late into the night and often a good portion of the weekend, all to help meet their client’s rebranding deadlines. And what had it gotten her?
“Not a gosh darn thing.” Nat raised her glass to eye level, considered its potent contents for a moment, and downed the rest of it.
The bourbon left a trail of warmth down her throat, followed by a slight fuzzy feeling.
Fuzzy was good sometimes. In the old days, fuzzy helped shut off the logical side of her brain to allow for creative ideas to flow.
Sometimes she missed getting paid to be creative instead of trying to sway public opinion on developments invading Small Town, USA.
“Do you always sit in bars, talking to yourself?”
Nat nearly jumped out of her skin as Sam Miles seemed to appear out of nowhere. She put a hand to her chest and laughed. “Do you always eavesdrop on conversations at bars?”
“Only the drunken, one-sided ones,” he replied with a smirk. “Mind if I join you?”
“Uh, no. Not at all.”
Natalie closed her laptop and slid it back into its carrying bag as Sam eased onto the bench seat across from her.
“What’re you drinking?” he asked.
“Whatever bourbon the bartender brought me.” She held up her empty glass and rattled the ice remaining. “That’s my one and done. Time to switch to the plain stuff.”
Sam grinned and waved to the bartender. “Hey, Mac. MGD for me, and a water for the little lady.”
She thanked him, grateful he was trying to help get her sober, not drunk. As it was, she worried this small buzz she had going might loosen her tongue and have her saying more than she should. Water should definitely help.
As she watched the bartender gather their drinks—because staring at Sam and those intriguing green eyes of his might get her tipsy brain going down the wrong path—Sam’s sandalwood cologne infiltrated the space around them.
Good grief, did everything about the man have to be so darned alluring?
All too soon, the bartender brought them their drinks, exchanged a quick pleasantry with Sam, then returned to his post behind the bar.
“To Marietta.” Sam clinked his raised beer to her water glass, took a long drag, then met her gaze. “But if that doesn’t work and you need a lift—”
And there it was.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking the two blocks back to the Bramble House,” she said. There would be no crossing any lines between business and pleasure tonight. “On my own .”
*
Sam instantly regretted the way he’d worded that, watching a fire light in Natalie’s eyes as she misinterpreted his offer.
Now, however, wasn’t the time for her to go and get all stubborn on him.
She was in an unfamiliar town at night, and clearly oblivious to the local vultures at the bar rail sizing her up.
Marietta was a great town, but that didn’t mean trouble never found its way here.
“I’m sure you are,” he said, casting a warning look to Louie Hawkins across the way. He took the hint and turned back to watching the television at the other end of the rail. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to make sure you get back safely.”
“And why is that?” she asked, one brow arched in challenge.
A challenge Sam was struggling to resist. How long had it been since a woman had his insides in such a tangle? He took a pull from his beer to cool himself off. “Because it’s how I was raised. I’d do the same for my sister. And for my daughter.”
She nodded and took a drink of her water. “How old is your daughter?”
The same one he’d just gotten a lecture from on not leaving clothes in the dryer? He huffed a laugh. “Fifteen going on thirty.”
“Oh?” Natalie’s eyes brightened with interest. “Does she get that from her mom or her dad?”
“Neither. Gets it from her grandmother. Madison was born with an old soul, same as Sunnie.”
“I can think of worse things.”
So could he. And though it felt at times like she was the more mature one in their relationship, he was damned proud of his daughter. Every smile of hers made each day worth living. “How about you? Any kids?”
Natalie shook her head. “Nope. Was married for a few years, but it didn’t pan out. I’m not anti-kid, but I was glad not to have to drag them through a divorce.”
“Tell me about it.” Sam took a long pull from his beer. He’d never even fathomed the idea of divorce. It wasn’t the kind of thing that ever happened in his family.
“How long have you been divorced?”
The tenderness in her tone disarmed him.
“Five years this spring. Said she missed California. More like, she was missing the Californian she fell for when he came to stay at our lodge.”
Dammit, he hadn’t meant to let that last part slip. Natalie didn’t need to hear him air his family’s dirty laundry. Instead of judge, she sighed.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sam. Divorce sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Thanks. And agreed. Just wished my kid hadn’t had to experience it.”
Natalie clasped her hands and rested her chin atop them. “How’d she do with it all?”
His mind wandered back to those early, single-again days. Him glaring out windows, at the television, hell, at anything. Madison quiet, processing it in her own way, snuggled up beside him on the couch.
“Better than me, most days.”
“Benefits of an old soul, I guess.” Natalie smiled. “My parents split when I was ten. My sister took it pretty hard, but I didn’t mind it so much. Less fighting at home, and we got twice as many presents at the holidays.”
He studied her for a moment, those hazel eyes of hers looking a little less glassy than when he’d first sat down. Sunnie had sensed she had a good heart, and so far, he hadn’t observed anything to contradict that. Unless, of course, this was all just a part of her corporate act.
“So, you’ve been with Terakion a long time?” he asked.
“A little more than four years now.” Her gaze shifted to the nearly empty water glass. “Had the opportunity to try something new.”
Sam sensed there was a story there, but wasn’t sure how to read between those lines. Nor did it matter, really. The past job wasn’t what had his family in a pickle; the present job did. “So, talking to towns ahead of your company’s bulldozers is something you’ve done for a while now.”
“Correct. Not my first rodeo.”
“And how often do you get to come back and see the finished products?”
“In person? Not very often. They keep me moving a good part of the year, helping the next community with their upcoming developments. But the company shares updates and photos of the finished products at our quarterly meetings.”
Sam took a drink. “So, you don’t really know how things are working out in those other towns.”
“Well, our sites wouldn’t stay open if things weren’t going well.” She paused to study him for a moment. “You don’t think we’ll finish the project? Is that your concern?”
“No, ma’am. My concern is about what your resort would really do to Marietta.”
She leaned back from the table. “I see. So, what I hear you saying is that you don’t think the proposed resort would be an asset to your community.”
He wanted to fire back a response but opted to take a drink of his beer instead. Give himself a second to think. How would Gran answer this question?
“Try to see this from our perspective. Your company has proposed taking over the land we’ve been farming the past decade so we can feed our cattle at a reasonable cost. That’s some of the most fertile soil in the area, and, according to the map you showed us tonight, Terakion plans to come in and drop some ridiculous topiary collection over the top of it.
It’s a complete waste of natural resources. ”
“The topiary zoo and playground is a favorite for our youngest clients and helps keep impervious surfaces on that portion of the land to a minimum.” At his flat look, she added, “Hey, don’t just take my word for it.
You can look it up on our website—several of our topiary exhibits have won national awards for green infrastructure. ”
“They’re oversized animal-shaped plants, Natalie. Our community needs more than something that looks pretty.”
She took a drink of her water and tapped the screen on her cell phone. Sam took the hint. This conversation had headed down a path she wasn’t planning to stay on much longer. But he didn’t want her to leave, not when he’d stumbled into a golden opportunity to try to sway her thinking.
“Sam, the resort needs to look appealing if it’s going to attract customers.
And it will look amazing—all of our resorts do.
” She raised a hand to stop him from arguing the point.
“I hear what you’re saying about the land, and I’m sorry we didn’t know about the lease.
But if your neighbor has died and left the land to someone else, I’m not sure your lease is even still valid. ”
“Trust me, we’re getting our lawyers involved. But if your company doesn’t buy the land, then maybe Hank’s greedy son will let the lease continue.”
Her brows furrowed. “If the land is so valuable to your ranch, why didn’t you guys just offer to buy that portion from Jack Nelson?”
“Trust me, we would have if we’d known he was considering selling.
” Sure, it would have been a major hit to their reserves, but it would have been worth it.
Heck, they’d been talking for years about making an offer on that land plus another twenty acres so they could grow enough for their stock and have some feed left over to sell to other ranchers in the area.
Natalie offered him a sympathetic smile. “Is there other land nearby that you could farm? Or perhaps an untapped area on some of your own land?”
“Our soil isn’t as fertile or level as Hank’s was. Is. And we’ve already explored all those options years ago. No one is willing to lease out their land for farming at the same rate as Hank did.”
“Hmm, what about buying the feed from another local farmer? It seems like it would be far cheaper to let someone else do the work.”
Sam shook his head. “We looked into that, too. The cost is nearly twice what we can harvest it for on our own.”
“So, you’re wanting me to go back to corporate and ask them to modify our redesign so you can keep leasing the western edge?” She rubbed one temple.
“No.” Sam leaned forward, his gaze locked with hers. “I want you to leave the plans exactly as they are… and drop them in someone else’s town.”
Natalie blew out a surprised huff. “I’m trying to work with you here, Sam, but it’s tough to do when you’re shooting down my every suggestion.”
“Because no suggestion is going to fix all the things your resort is about to break!” He grabbed his beer bottle and pointed it toward the door. “There’s land everywhere. Find them another plot somewhere else.”
“It’s not that easy!” She pinched the bridge of her nose and drew in a long, slow breath before meeting his gaze once more.
“Site selection takes time and significant research, all of which costs money. If I go back and make that request, they’re going to demand a solid reason why.
And not just over a small farming squabble. ”
Sam took another drink from his beer, wanting to disagree but knowing she had a point. What was it going to take to get Terakion to see how damaging this resort could be to Marietta?
The resort—that was the angle he hadn’t touched on yet.
“You want more?” he said. “Fine, how about this. If you build on the Nelson property, not only will you be denying us the chance to grow crops for our cattle, but your resort will also be in direct competition with ours. We may not have the fancy-schmancy accommodations you’re promoting, but our lodge and cabin rentals keep at minimum an 80 percent occupancy rate year-round.
You’re coming in claiming to be all about supporting the community, but in reality, you’re about to put us out of business. ”
“Put you out of business? Sam, our clientele and yours aren’t one and the same. They’re not even in the same ballpark. You have guests on a budget. We’ll be offering luxury accommodations.”
He crossed his arms. “We’ve had guests from all different socioeconomic statuses, thank you very much. And those guests come into town and shop. They help support our town’s economy.”
“I didn’t mean—” Natalie stopped herself. Ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “Look, we’re just going to have to agree to disagree.”
“That’s not really an opt—”
“Listen, it’s late, and I need to get back to my room.
I appreciate the talk and the water.” She gathered her things and slid from the booth, then paused to fish out a business card from her bag.
“If you come up with any more ideas to help make this project work alongside your property, feel free to give me a call.”
She placed it on the table with a weary smile. “Good night, Sam.”
He waited for her to exit the building before pounding a fist on the table. What was it going to take to get her to see that this resort needed to be built somewhere else? Because he wasn’t giving up; he had his family and his town to protect.
He downed the rest of his beer, tossed a ten on the table, and headed out to his truck.
Up ahead, he saw Natalie, walking at a steady pace back to the inn.
Stubborn woman, he could have had her there in a fraction of the time.
And—argument or not—if she really thought he wasn’t going to make sure she made it back safely, she had another thing coming.
The same thing went for her company’s damned resort. If she thought walking away would end this conversation, then she had a lot left to learn about Montana living. So did her company. Because this battle was far from over.
In fact, it was just beginning.