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

Chapter Seven

Sara swallowed against the lump of regret balled in her throat. She’d spent years avoiding Rose, and now she wanted nothing more than to get rid of her mother. But not at the expense of her grandmother’s dream. Selling would be simple and give her the money she desperately needed to repay April and get her own second chance.

Yet what would it cost her soul?

She’d given up on so much in her life, compromised her hopes and values to make life easier. She was done running from the hard stuff or letting other people bully her. If nothing else, being in Colorado had made her see that she could live life on her own terms. She had something to contribute. Her mother wasn’t going to rob her of that so soon.

“I’m not selling, Mom. Not now. Not to Richard.”

Rose’s delicately arched eyebrows lifted. “Well, then—”

“And you’re not spending any more time here. I want you to leave.”

“This was my childhood home, Sara.” Rose dabbed at the corner of one eye.

“You hated it here. Counted the moments until you could leave. I know the story by heart, so don’t try to change it.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed briefly. “You always were an ungrateful child,” she said on a huff of breath. “Because of me you had every opportunity to succeed.”

“Because of you I didn’t have a childhood.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Serena.”

“I quit being dramatic years ago, Mother. Now I’m trying for normal.”

“Normal is boring.”

“I’ll take that, too.”

Rose made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. She wrapped one arm around Claire’s small shoulders. “I’m so looking forward to getting to know you better, dear,” she said, and flashed a smile at Sara. “I’ll make a few calls to agents this week, then see if I can find a decent photographer to do some head shots of you. I bet the camera will love you the way it does your mother.”

“That would be great.”

Sara opened her mouth to argue but before she could get a word out, Josh appeared next to her. “There won’t be any photographers or agents for my daughter, Ms. Wells.” His voice was controlled, but Sara could see a muscle tick in his jaw.

Her mother’s smile broadened. “Mr. Travers, how nice of you to join us. Have you been listening from the hallway?”

“Long enough to know this discussion is finished, ma’am. And I’d appreciate if you’d stop filling my daughter’s head with your celebrity mumbo-jumbo.”

“She has star potential,” Rose cooed.

“I believe Sara asked you to leave.”

“Daddy, don’t be rude,” Claire said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Sara’s mom wants to help me.”

“You don’t need her kind of help.”

Tears welled in Claire’s wide eyes. “You don’t understand anything,” she yelled, and tore past Josh, her angry footfalls echoing from the stairs.

Rose pressed her soft pink lips together. “Well, that’s unfortunate. How do you think her mother would feel about a chance at Claire making it in the big time?”

Josh felt his blood turn from boiling to ice-cold. He knew exactly how Jennifer would feel—thrilled about an opportunity to meet bigger Hollywood A-listers and score better drugs. While Claire’s mother was still one of the most beautiful women in the world, she’d lately gotten more press for her partying than her photo spreads. She’d even lost her contract as the face of one of the big cosmetic companies because of her extracurricular activities.

The only saving grace was that the further she spiraled out of control, the less Jennifer took an interest in Claire. Josh planned to go back to court and file for sole custody once the ranch was stable and profitable. He didn’t figure Jen would fight him, but that would change if she thought Claire was useful to her.

He took a step toward Rose. “Stay away from my daughter and out of my family’s business,” he commanded, not trying to hide his anger.

To her credit, the older woman didn’t flinch. “It’s too bad you’re building your business in a house that should rightfully belong to me.” She tapped one finger against her mouth, a slight smile playing at her lips. “Claire really is lovely. Plus she has a budding flair for the dramatic. I like that in a girl.”

Sara moved in front of him before he could wrap his hands around Rose’s birdlike throat. “Enough, Mother. The house belongs to me. I’m telling you to leave. Now.”

Rose backed away, palms up. “I can take a hint, honey. But I’ll be back. One way or another, mark my words.”

“This isn’t The Terminator, Mom.” Sara leaned in and said softly, “Are you so desperate to keep your boyfriend that you’ll stoop this low this to get what you want? I always thought you had a replacement guy waiting in the wings. I guess things get tougher as you age. How sad.”

Josh watched Rose’s perfectly bronzed cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such an awful daughter,” she said with a sputter. “I gave up everything for you and this is how you repay me? You were a horrible, colicky baby and a demanding child. You couldn’t even make something of the career I practically gift wrapped for you. Does it make you happy to watch your own mother struggle when we both know you could help me if you wanted to? You make me sick.”

He saw Sara’s sharp intake of breath as Rose stormed past them both, slamming the door shut in her wake.

“Okay, then,” Sara whispered after several moments, her back still to him. “That was fun and a great trip down memory lane.” She said the last with a laugh that caught in her throat and turned into a strangled sob.

Josh reached for her and slowly turned her so she was facing him. His gut twisted at the tears that filled her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “You don’t deserve that.”

She shook her head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. That she’s giving you so much trouble. For ideas she may have put into Claire’s head.” She swiped her hands across her face. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she doesn’t corrupt Claire, Josh. She’s an amazing girl. I know you only want what’s best for her.”

He trailed a thumb across a stray tear that ran down her cheek. “Even if I’m an idiot about knowing how to talk to my own daughter?”

She sniffed. “All men are idiots sometimes.” Holding up her fingertips, she cringed. “I can’t cry anymore. My makeup is going to run all over the place.”

He wrapped his hands around hers. “Why do you wear so much makeup anyway? You don’t need it.” As soon as the words were out, he regretted them. Jeez, maybe he should ask her if she was pregnant next or say her thighs were fat. He really was an idiot.

She stared at him for what seemed like minutes as he braced himself for an explosion. Instead, she said softly, “It makes me feel protected—like armor. People see the goop and not me. I like it that way.”

The brutal honesty of her words contrasted with the stark vulnerability in her eyes. His breath caught and his cold, hard heart melted. She leveled him. He bent forward and dropped a soft kiss on each of her eyelids. Up close she smelled like cinnamon and honey, sweet and spicy at the same time.

“I see you,” he whispered against her forehead.

“That’s a James Cameron line,” she answered, her voice not quite even. Her hands pressed against his chest as she pressed into him. “From Avatar.”

He smiled and brushed his mouth across hers. “You know a lot of movies.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you talk too much.”

“Probably. I think it’s because—”

He covered her mouth with his, ran his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him. Everything about her drew him closer. He savored the feel of her in his arms. His hands trailed up and down along her back, played with the soft strands of her hair. Her whole body pressed into him, and for a moment he tried to hide the evidence of his desire. Then she moaned into his mouth and he lost all coherent thought.

She pulled his shirt out of his waistband, and her long fingers were cool on his skin. “Good lord,” he muttered as what was left of his brain cells took the fast train south.

He tugged at the top of her shirt and trailed kisses from her jaw down her neck and across her collarbone. Just as he moved aside her bra strap, a horn honked from the driveway below. He bolted upright. The horn blared again, this time followed by a chorus of loud whooping and slamming doors.

“Travers, where the hell are you? Let’s get this party started, man!” a deep voice called.

Josh met Sara’s gaze, knew his eyes were as hazy as hers. He stepped away and cursed under his breath, dug the heel of his hand into his forehead, willing his brain to start functioning again.

“Who is that?” she asked, her voice shaky as she readjusted her shirt.

He cursed again. “Our first guests.”

“Your friends from the rodeo? I thought they weren’t coming until next week.”

“Sounds like they’re early.”

She blew out a breath. “Right. We can do this. I’ll find April and have her whip up something for dinner. Most of the things on the itinerary can be moved up to the next few days. I’ll make calls once everyone is settled. Ryan can at least put sheets on a few beds.” She turned toward the door, all business.

He tugged on her arm, pulling her back against him, and wrapped his arms around her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his lips just grazing her ear.

“No, I’m freaking out. These are the first paying guests. Things have to be perfect.”

“As long as we have cold beer and lots of food, they’ll be fine. I mean, are you okay?”

She stiffened in his arms and he held her tighter. “I’m fine. I’m sorry about my mother. I’ll try to control her better.”

“You’re not responsible for your mom. She shouldn’t have said what she did to you. It will work out in the end. I’m not giving up.” He paused then asked, “Are we okay?”

She wiggled until he released her. “There is no we, Josh.”

Irritation bubbled in him. “That’s funny, because I don’t think I was kissing myself just now.”

She threw him an eye roll over her shoulder. Her big blue eyes held none of the spark he’d seen earlier. She’d been so relaxed on the mountain, more of whom he believed she truly was. Not the guarded, fragile woman who stood before him now. “We were both upset. No big deal. It was a kiss, not a marriage proposal.”

Her attitude got under his skin and he couldn’t help baiting her. “Are you looking for a marriage proposal, Sara?”

“Not from you, cowboy,” she answered with a scoff, but her shoulders tensed even more.

He wanted to grab her, kiss her until she was once again soft and pliant in his arms. The horn honked for a third time and he heard a loud knocking at the front door.

Sara smoothed her fingers over her shirtfront. “Go greet your buddies. I’ll get everyone moving.”

“This conversation isn’t finished,” he told her as he headed for the stairs.

“My end of it is,” he heard her say under her breath.

He smiled despite his frustration, wondering how the fact that she always had to get in the last word could be so endearing to him. He shook his head, making a mental note to start thinking with his brain rather than other parts of his anatomy.

* * *

Sara came through the back door of the main house an hour later. Music streamed into the kitchen as April appeared from the family room, two empty platters in her hand.

“You’d think those guys hadn’t eaten in months,” she grumbled. But Sara noticed her grin and the light in her eyes. April was at her best when she could take care of people.

“I’ve got the two big cabins made up. That should hold everyone. Do you need anything?”

“I’ve got another batch of wings ready to come out and a vat of queso dip almost heated. I’ll need to run to the grocery tomorrow. We should at least make it through breakfast.”

Sara glanced at the spotless counters. “Can I help clean up?”

April gave her a knowing look. “Go introduce yourself. They’re rowdy but seem nice enough. Four guys and one girlfriend. Her name is Brandy. She’s a looker in that farm-fresh way.”

Sara took a tube of deep plum lipstick from her jeans pocket and applied a liberal layer to her mouth. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s a party in there,” April countered. “The more the merrier.”

“Has he told them who I am?”

April’s smile turned gentle. “I don’t think so. It’s not a big deal, you know. Maybe they won’t recognize you.”

“How old is Brandy?”

“Early twenties.”

“Unless she was raised without a TV in the house, she’ll know me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter in L.A. Much. I can blend in a little in the land of falling stars. Especially with a new crop of beautiful losers coming through every year. But here it’s just me—the only big fat failure for miles.”

April took a pot holder and opened the oven to pull out a baking sheet of wings. They smelled delicious. “Did you ever consider you might be the only one who believes you’re a failure?”

“My mom thinks I’m a failure,” Sara said with a shrug.

“Your mom is a witch.”

Sara snorted. April didn’t call people names. Ever. “Whoa, there, lady. Them’s fightin’ words.”

“Bring it,” April said as she dumped the wings into an oversize basket. Her hands free, she turned and hugged Sara. “I’ll take down your mother and the broom she rode in on.”

“You’re a Buddhist.”

“I’ll make an exception for her. And you. Go out there for a few minutes. Have fun tonight, Sara. You deserve it.”

“What would I do without you?” Sara gave her friend one last squeeze and walked into the family room.

Josh and his four friends sat on the sofas and chairs surrounding the coffee table, filling the large room with their presence. Three of the men looked around Josh’s age. The last one was so young he seemed barely out of puberty, despite having the broadest build in the group. Two were clearly brothers, both blond, tall and lanky. The third had a thick head of midnight-black hair and deep brown skin. The young one reached for another handful of chips, a shock of red hair falling over one eye. As a whole, they were tough, rangy and utterly male. Something Sara was unused to in Hollywood.

“It’s enough testosterone to choke you,” a voice said close to her ear.

Sara turned to see a young woman standing at her side who was as “farm fresh” as April had described. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a plastic clip and cascaded in healthy, unprocessed waves to the middle of her back. She wore little makeup other than a hint of lip gloss, and her soft denim shirt was tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans. Actual Wranglers, if Sara guessed right.

“You must be Brandy,” she said and held out her hand. “I’m—”

“Serena Wellens,” the woman finished, her eyes widening.

“I go by Sara now. Sara Wells is my real name.”

Brandy pumped Sara’s hand at fever pace. “I loved Just the Two of Us. My sister and I lived for Tuesday nights.”