New Year, New Man: A Kiss on Crimson Ranch / The Dance Off / The Right Mr. Wrong

Chapter Three

Sara glanced up from the computer in Crimson’s small-town library. It had been three days since she and April had arrived in Colorado. Word spread fast that former starlet Serena Wellens was in town for the summer. A steady stream of locals had stopped by the ranch for neighborly visits. Of course the disappointment in meeting a once-upon-a-time celebrity in real life had been obvious from the comments she’d received.

“You looked taller on TV.”

“You were so pretty when you were younger.”

“Do you still talk to Amanda? Can you get her autograph?”

Her favorite had been from the town’s mayor, who’d blurted, “I read you overdosed a year ago. I think I sent your gran flowers as a condolence.”

It was a good thing the ego had been pummeled out of her years ago. Otherwise, the blatant disapproval might have done her in.

She watched a couple of teenage boys stare at her from behind the bookshelves at the far end of the room. She pulled off her headphones and winked in their direction. Her smile broadened as they ran away, books clattering to the floor in their wake.

“You enjoyed that a little too much.”

She started at Josh’s deep voice and swiveled her head to see him approach. Quickly, she clicked the mouse to minimize the screen and turned to block his view completely. “The picture-book section is on the other side,” she said with a huff.

To her dismay, he gave her a knowing grin. “Whatcha doin’, Hollywood?” His lazy drawl made her insides twist in a way she didn’t like.

She shrugged in response. “Checking out the gossip sites. A little Facebook. April’s meeting with the owner at the market to arrange food deliveries to the ranch so I’m killing time.”

He craned his neck to peer over her shoulder. “I think you looked me up on Google.”

“You wish,” she sputtered as a voice sounded through the headphones that she’d dropped to the desk.

“Josh Travers does it again. It’s a new record and another amazing showing from bull riding’s reigning king.” Applause and cheers echoed in the background.

Heat rose to her cheeks as Josh arched a brow.

“Fine. I was curious. So what. Don’t tell me you haven’t looked me up, too.”

“I wasn’t sure which site I liked better—serenawellensforever.com or sarawellsstinks.com.”

“Just the Two of Us fans didn’t love it when I changed my name. They thought they knew me when I was Serena. Like my name mattered.”

“It mattered to you.”

“Reigning king, huh?” she asked.

“That was a while back,” he said with a smile, as if he knew she was changing the subject.

She studied him for a few moments. “I saw pictures of your accident.”

His back stiffened. “Pictures exaggerate.”

“The bull landed on top of you.”

“They got him off quick.”

“Does your knee still bother you?”

“Not really.”

“Liar,” she whispered. “Do you miss it?”

“Not really.”

“Did you ever see that Jim Carrey movie Liar, Liar when he can only tell the truth?”

He scratched his jaw. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s an interesting idea, don’t you think? Even if he tried to tell a lie, it wouldn’t come out of his mouth.”

He just watched her.

“I’m kind of babbling.”

“Yep.”

He did that to her, she thought. He was such a presence. Big and broad and totally in his space—in her space. People in L.A. were always planning what came next, even if it was a trip to the mall. But Josh stayed in the moment no matter what he was doing. He kept busy, and to her eternal gratitude, she hadn’t seen much of him other than watching him walk across the property early in the morning to take care of the horses, then catching glimpses of him throughout the day.

Yesterday, he’d spent most of his time on the roof of the largest cabin, replacing worn shingles. When the sun moved high overhead and the temperature rose with it, he’d taken off his shirt. Much to her dismay, Sara found herself staring out the window in the office far too often. It had been a while since she’d had a man in her life, but she figured she could get her wayward hormones under better control than that.

Here in the quiet intimacy of the library, those little buggers took flight again. With Josh standing in front of her, his faded T-shirt stretched over his chest and sculpted arms, she could imagine...

Nope.

She did not imagine. She’d given up her imagination when she’d abandoned her dreams, around the time she began filling in waitress under the occupation heading on paperwork.

This man was all that stood in the way of the possibility of reclaiming her life, or at the very least, creating a new one. The money from the sale would allow April and her to start over. The only view she’d let herself imagine was Josh Travers disappearing in her rearview mirror.

“So what are you doing here? Did they run out of Playboys at the general store? I don’t think the library has a subscription.”

He shrugged then held out a book. The cover read Talk To Your Teenager Without Losing Your Mind.

“That’s a mouthful.”

“The librarian recommended it.”

“It’s nice that you’re willing to read a parenting book.”

“Claire hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Sara argued as she stood and gathered her things.

“This morning after you and April left I asked her to help me feed the horses. You would have thought I was waterboarding her.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I thought all girls loved horses.”

“Not all,” she clarified.

“Thanks, I’ve got that now. One of the mares sniffed her and she freaked out. I laughed a little.”

“You laughed at her?”

He smacked the heel of his hand to his forehead. “So shoot me. I didn’t mean it. She threw a bucket of grain at me, screamed that she hated the ranch, she hated her mother and most of all she hated me. My dad would have whipped my butt if I’d thrown a fit like that.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. She ran back to the house. I finished in the barn and came here.”

Sara led the way out of the library and into the warm afternoon air. She glanced up at the bright blue sky, still surprised at how much this small mountain town resembled a movie set. “She doesn’t hate you,” she repeated.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Josh asked, his face incredulous.

“She’s a teenager. Hormones running rampant and in a new place with a parent she barely knows. Give her time.”

He looked like he wanted to argue then took a breath. “Time. Right. When are you coming back?”

Sara checked her watch. “I’m supposed to meet April in a half hour.”

“What’s the deal with the two of you? She was willing to follow you to Crimson and seems happy to do her part at the ranch. That’s quite the package deal.”

“I don’t know much about the rodeo circuit, but in Hollywood finding someone who truly cares is a rarity.” Sara took a breath before continuing. “I met April about the time my career was starting to tank and my personal life was just as messed up. She stuck with me through the bad stuff, and I did the same with her when she had her own troubles. She doesn’t belong in L.A. anymore. If a summer at the ranch can help her see that, all of this would be worth it. She deserves happiness more than anyone I know.”

He studied her for several moments. She struggled not to fidget under his scrutiny. “You’re a good friend,” he said finally.

“Oh, I’m the bee’s knees, and don’t you forget it.” She laughed, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze. “I need to stop by that clothing store at the end of the block. My L.A. wardrobe doesn’t really work here.”

Josh took a long look at the outfit she wore today. A shapeless black-and-white-striped sweater dress over skintight black jeans that zipped from knee to ankle. Her shoes, Converse trainers, were at least more practical than the heeled boots she’d worn yesterday. Without the heels, she was pixie-size, and if it wasn’t for the heavy makeup lining her eyes and dark wine-colored lipstick, she might have passed for a teenager herself.

A lock of neon hair slipped from her newsboy cap, and she tucked it behind her ear. Josh’s gaze locked on the soft blond wisps at the base of her neck, and he was momentarily fascinated to imagine her natural honey color.

That was the kind of woman he was drawn to: natural, sweet and compliant. A woman who’d bake pies from scratch with strawberries fresh from the garden. The kind of woman he could grow old with, reveling in a normal, boring, run-of-the-mill Ozzie and Harriett life. Not a bitter, bossy, snappish former diva.

No attraction to that type.

Not at all.

He fell in step beside her.

“You mean Feathers and Threads?” Other than T-shirt shops and the fishing shop, which sold outdoor gear, that was the only women’s clothing store in town.

“I prefer to think of it as Cowgirl Duds R Us.”

He chuckled. “It’s not bad. Do you think you could help me pick out something for Claire? Maybe a necklace or earrings?”

She slanted him a curious look.

“A peace offering. For this morning.”

“Buying your way out of the doghouse?”

“Whatever it takes.” They reached the end of the block. “I need to stop in at the fly shop first. I ordered vests and waders for the ranch.”

She didn’t slow her pace. “See you in a few.”

He watched her walk away and couldn’t help but notice that the way her hips swayed under the striped dress was all woman.

Damn.

The bells over the door of Feathers and Threads chimed as he walked in fifteen minutes later. He glanced around but didn’t see Sara. Maybe she was in the dressing room.

“Hey, Rita,” he called to the shop’s owner, who stood behind the counter with a young salesgirl and a cluster of customers.

He’d brought Claire here when she’d first arrived in town. His daughter had taken one look at the racks and announced she’d be buying her clothes from the Hollister website. The morning after, he’d taken Rita to coffee as an apology for Claire’s rudeness.

Too bad she’d read more into that than he’d meant. She’d all but suggested a quickie in the back room of the store. When he’d refused, she’d still found excuses to stop by the ranch several times, dropping off sparkly tops and hand-knit sweaters for Claire. To his relief, Claire had kept her snide comments to herself, and he’d been able to avoid Rita as much as possible. That was another reason he wanted to come in here at the same time as Sara—someone to distract Rita.

“Hi, Josh,” she cooed. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m picking up a gift for Claire. I’ll look around.”

“Let me know if you have questions,” she answered and turned back to her conversation.

He silently congratulated himself and headed toward the jewelry case at the back of the store. Rita and her gaggle of customers laughed softly as he walked by. Snippets of conversation drifted his way.

“...rode hard and put away wet.”

“No wonder she can’t get work. Who’d want to see that on the big screen?”

“Is it just me or has she had her lips done?”

“Doesn’t belong in Crimson, that’s for sure.”

Josh concentrated on the necklaces as unease skated around his chest. He glanced in the small mirror above the jewelry case and spotted Sara standing behind a sale rack.

As Josh turned toward the group of women, the conversation behind the counter continued, louder now. The women made no attempt to be discreet.

“I read she was into drugs for a while,” one of the customers offered, bending forward so that Josh got too much of a view of her ample backside.

Eyes widened within the group. “Did you see track marks?”

“I can’t get past those raccoon eyes,” another woman said with a snicker.

“It looks like she hasn’t seen the sun in years,” Rita answered. “Maybe we should send her down to Nell’s salon for a makeover.”

Maybe you should shut your mouth, Josh thought. He glanced at Sara in the mirror, expecting to see steam rising from her ears. He was surprised she hadn’t come out swinging already. Instead, he watched her swipe under her eyes and return a blouse to the rack, her hand shaking a bit.

“I wouldn’t wish that hot mess on anyone,” the younger salesgirl said, sending the other women into peals of laughter.

Josh felt his blood pressure rise along with the volume of giggles. He looked back to Sara, and her gaze met his in the mirror. For a single moment her eyes were unguarded and he saw pain, raw and real, in their depths. She blinked and shuttered them, turning the glare he’d come to know so well on him in full force. She shook her head slightly and backed away from the clothes rack.

Now, he thought. Cut them down now. She turned to a display of knit tops and picked one out at random. He watched her carry it to the front of the store. The women looked her up and down, not hiding their judgment and contempt.

“Just this,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes forward. “You have some lovely things in the store.”

“They all have security tags,” Rita answered as she punched a few keys on the cash register.

“Of course.”

Josh’s temper hit the roof. How could Sara let that group of catty witches fillet her without defending herself? Where was the sarcastic, no-holds-barred woman he’d already come to expect? Hell, he hated to admit it, but he actually looked forward to their verbal sparring to break up the monotony of his day.

But this? This was total and complete bull. He grabbed two necklaces from the rack and stalked to the counter.

“What do you think of these?” he asked as he slammed them onto the glass top.

Rita jumped back an inch then pasted on a broad smile. “With Claire’s gorgeous skin the turquoise will—”

“I’m not talking to you,” he interrupted, unconcerned with how rude he sounded. “Which one, Sara?”

“The butterfly charm,” she answered immediately. “The turquoise on the other one is dime-store quality.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rita sputtered.

Sara didn’t make eye contact with either of them, only dug in her purse for a wallet.

That a girl, Josh thought. Just a little more.

“Claire trusts your opinion,” he continued conversationally. “I think she was sold the moment Gwyneth called to see what she should wear to her movie opening.”

“Gwyneth Paltrow?” the salesgirl asked, her tone taking on a fraction of respect.

Sara’s fingers tightened around her purse and she sliced a dead-meat look at him.

He forced a chuckle. “It’s like Hollywood is one big sorority.” He pointed to Sara. “Her phone is ringing every ten minutes. Julia needs to know where to find some kind of boots. Sandra’s texting about a brand of fancy-pants jeans.”

Rita raised an eyebrow at Sara. “And they’re calling you?”

When Sara didn’t answer, Josh spoke quickly, “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Sara pulled out cash and handed it to Rita. “For the sweater.” She didn’t acknowledge Josh’s comments or Rita’s question.

Rita took the money, studying Sara. “I’m ordering for fall in a couple of weeks. Maybe you could stop by and take a look at the lines. We’re not as exclusive as Aspen, but I still want to offer current trends. I’d appreciate a fresh opinion.”

“Fresh?” Sara questioned. “As in fresh off heroin?” She yanked her sleeves above her elbows and held out her arms for inspection. “No track marks, ladies. Needles were never my thing.”

Two of the women giggled nervously and backed away from the counter. After an awkward pause Rita said, “If you’ve got time, stop back later in the month.”

Sara blew out a breath. “Give me a break,” she mumbled, and left the store, leaving the bagged sweater and change Rita had placed on the counter.

Josh quickly paid for his necklace, grabbed Sara’s bag and followed her into the warming afternoon. He caught up with her half a block down the street.

“What happened in there?”

She rounded on him. “Why don’t you tell me, Mr. Name Dropper?” She jabbed at his chest, her voice rising. “Since when are you an expert on celebrity fashion? Not one damn person has called my cell phone since I got here, famous or otherwise. And you know it.”

“Excuse me for trying to help. Those women were out for blood, and you were about to open a vein for them.”

“You should mind your own business,” she countered.

“Who are you right now?” He took a deep breath, needing to clear his head. It didn’t work. Not one bit. “All you’ve done since the minute you walked into my house—”

“My house.”

“The house,” he amended. “All you’ve done is bust my chops. If I look at you wrong, you read me the riot act, give me one of those snide remarks or smart comebacks you’re so damn good at.” He pointed in the direction of Rita’s store. “You didn’t say one word to those ladies in there.”

She rolled her eyes. “You took care of it all on your own.”

“Somebody had to. It was too painful to watch your slow death.”

“Julia, Gwyneth? Even if I was in L.A., do you think one of those women would give me the time of day? They are A-list, Josh. I’m beyond Z. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Rita didn’t know that.”

“I know it.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m a has-been. A nobody. You don’t get it. What those women dished out was nothing compared to what I hear every single day in California. At the grocery. The dry cleaners.” She laughed without humor. “At least back in the day when I could afford dry cleaning. I’ve been a waitress now for the same number of years I was a paid actress. Do you know how many customers gave me career advice, hair tips, dissed my makeup, my boyfriends, all of it? Nothing was off-limits. I can take it, Josh. I don’t need you to swoop in and rescue me.”

“Excuse me for trying to help.”

“I don’t want help. This isn’t Pretty Woman meets mountain town. I’m not Julia Roberts shopping on Rodeo Drive. You’re not Richard Gere on the fire escape.”

“Why do you do that?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do what?”

“Throw out movie plots like they compare to what’s happening. This is real life, Sara.”

“I’m well aware.”

He shook his head. “I thought you were a fighter.”

“No,” she said quietly. “I’m a survivor.” With that, she turned and marched down the street away from him.

Chapter Four

Sara didn’t say much on the drive from town, content to let April ramble about her meeting with the man who ran the local farm cooperative. She gazed at the tall pines that bordered the winding highway, continuing to be awed by her surroundings. The vivid colors, woodsy smells—the vast magnitude of every inch of this place.

She thought about Josh’s “real life” comment. Sara knew real life. Real life was struggling to meet her rent every month, praying each time she used her debit card that her bank account wasn’t overdrawn. She had to admit there was something about Crimson that felt—well, authentic. In L.A., life was about who you knew, where you could get a table, which plastic surgeon you frequented. She glanced in the rearview mirror, wondering for a moment about the last time she’d gone anywhere without full makeup. Her war paint, as she’d come to think of it.

Was it possible she could have a brief reprieve from battle in this small mountain community?

As Sara drove down the narrow driveway toward the ranch, she spotted a large black SUV parked in front of the main house.

“If that’s my mother...” she muttered under her breath.

April patted her knee. “You can deal with your mother. You’re a fighter.”

The car almost swerved into the ditch. “Did you talk to Josh?” Sara accused her friend once she was back on the dirt road.

“No,” April answered slowly, her dark eyes studying Sara. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing.”

“I can feel the vibes. They aren’t nothing.”

“You’re imagining it.”

“He’s hot.”

“Go for it,” Sara suggested. “Maybe he’d relax if he got a little something.”

April chuckled. “You know that after my divorce I swore off men, at least until I’ve found someone who’s worth the time and effort. So I don’t go for it anymore. Besides, maybe you could relax if...”

“Not going there.”

“We’ll see.”

“You think you know me so well.”

“I’ve known you since you were fourteen.”

The studio had hired April to be Sara’s fitness coach when she’d put on a few pounds during puberty. Sara counted that decision as one of the few blessings from her years as a sitcom star. Without April’s gentle guidance, Sara might have added “eating disorder” to her long list of personal issues.

Nine years older than Sara, April had quickly become Sara’s soul sister and best friend. When April’s stuntman husband left her a few years later during April’s grueling battle with breast cancer, Sara had been more than willing to see her friend through months of chemotherapy and radiation treatments and the nasty divorce that resulted.

Neither woman had been lucky in the relationship department—another fact that, despite their different outlooks on life, bonded them deeply.

“You only think you know me. I’m a mystery wrapped in a puzzle clothed in an enigma,” Sara told her friend with a wry smile.

“Right.”

Sara parked the car next to the SUV. “Are you trying to distract me from the probability of another scene with Mommie Dearest?”

“Is it working?” April asked, reaching for the door handle.

Sara grabbed her arm. “Have I told you today how sorry I am you’re in this predicament with me?”

April shrugged. “Things happen for a reason.”

“Don’t go all Sliding Doors on me. The reason your savings account was wiped out and you lost the yoga studio is because I’m a gullible idiot, a loser and the worst friend in the world. We’re stuck in high-altitude Pleasantville for the summer, thanks to me.”

“Sara...” April began, her tone gentle.

Sara thumped her head against the steering wheel. “Maybe I was wrong to agree to Josh’s plan for the summer. If I sold to Mom’s latest sugar daddy we could be back in California next week.”

“Back to what?”

“Our lives.”

“Neither of our lives was that great to begin with, and you know it. Besides, what about Josh and Claire?”