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“I’m going to kill you,” she yelled, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his neck.
Strong arms pulled her away and she was enveloped in a different scent—one that even in her anger still had an effect on her insides. “Settle down,” Josh whispered in her ear.
“Let me go,” she said on a hiss of breath. She fought, and his arms clamped around her, pressing her against the solid wall of his chest. After a minute she stopped struggling. “Let me go,” she repeated. “I’m not going to hurt him.”
Slowly, Josh loosened his hold on her. For the briefest second, Sara fought the urge to snuggle back into the warmth that radiated off his soft denim shirt, to bury her face into the crook of his neck and simply breathe.
She stepped away, needing to break their invisible connection, and straightened the hem of her long shirt. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, Ryan. Unless you’ve got my money and April’s, too, you can crawl back under the rock you came from.”
“Hi, Sara.” Ryan Thompson, her onetime business partner and long-ago ex-boyfriend flashed a sheepish smile. “I came to apologize.” He held out his hands, palms up. “To beg your forgiveness. Go ahead, attack me if you want. I deserve it. Whatever it takes to put this behind us.”
Sara felt her temper building but kept her voice steady. “What it will take is you handing me a check for two hundred thousand dollars. The money it will take to repay April for losing the studio.”
Ryan looked past her to April. “Do you, at least, forgive me, April? You understand, right?”
“I understand you, Ryan” came April’s taut response.
His brows furrowed and he turned his attention to Sara again. “I messed up. I’m sorry. I’m going to make it better.”
“By writing a check?”
He sighed. “You know I can’t do that.”
Sara knew a lot about Ryan Thompson. They’d met when she was nineteen.
Her career had stalled; audiences did not want to see another childhood star grow into a bona fide actor. She’d had a couple of box office flops, lost roles in several Lifetime movies to former cast members of 90210 and could barely get casting directors to meet with her for even supporting roles. She’d briefly thought of applying to college until her mother had informed her that with the quality of on-set tutoring she’d received, she’d been lucky to get her GED.
Her mother, who was still managing her at the time, had come up with the brilliant idea of sending Sara to rehab for undisclosed reasons.
Although the closest she’d come to an addiction was a great affinity for Reese’s cups, Sara had been legitimately exhausted for months and welcomed a break from the Hollywood rat race.
Rose thought the publicity would make people see Sara as an adult, and if they didn’t get specific about an addiction, the backlash would be manageable. The whole Drew Barrymore comeback—maybe even a book deal.
It hadn’t worked. At all. She’d been blacklisted by every major studio, and her stalled career had gone down the toilet completely. But she’d loved her time at the secluded facility, morning meditation classes and long walks through the desert trails. On one of those solitary walks, she’d met Ryan, a hot young director who’d blown a huge wad of his last project’s budget on his gambling addiction. The producers had sent him to the Next Steps treatment facility for a month-long program. As far as Sara could tell, he was the only other patient at the center not half crazed with withdrawal symptoms or buying drugs from the cleaning crew.
They’d been fast friends and had even tried a romance for about a millisecond. Ryan was prettier than Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise and higher maintenance than a full-blown diva. He loved women, could flirt the pants off the Pope’s sister and was as good at monogamy as he was at staying away from the blackjack table.
They’d remained close, and while he’d had a couple of critical and box office hits, Ryan continued to be a master of self-sabotage, finding it impossible to resist the lure of Las Vegas’s shiny lights.
He’d been clean a year and a half when he’d approached Sara about forming a production company together. She was at the end of her rope with bad waitressing jobs and potential projects falling through. He presented a well-thought-out business plan, complete with spreadsheets, a list of potential investors and a movie script that had award written all over it. One with a lead role that made Sara literally salivate with need.
She’d agreed, and for months they’d hit the pavement, calling and setting up meetings to try to make this new dream a reality. After one of the major investors backed out, Sara’d complained to April, who’d offered to take a second mortgage on her yoga studio and give the money to Sara. April had a solid client list of California high rollers and had even been offered her own DVD series working alongside one starlet yoga devotee.
At first Sara had resisted her friend’s offer, but April was confident in Sara’s ability to make the production company a success. April was the only person who knew that Sara had been taking classes part-time at UCLA and was close to earning a business degree.
She and April planned on franchising the studio, and April’s particular brand of yoga and one hit movie could help finance the expansion. Sara saw her chance to create a career away from Hollywood that would both fulfill her and give her the respect she craved.
That was before Ryan fell off the wagon again, blowing all their money on a weekend in Vegas. In less than a month, Sara had lost her savings, her apartment, her latest job and almost her friendship with April.
Now Ryan stood in front of her, offering to make it better. She’d trusted him once and wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“If you can’t write a check, how could you possibly make anything all right again?”
“The financing is almost set. I’ve got a new director interested. One who wants you for the lead. He’s in Aspen for a few weeks. I just need to get hold of his people and set up a meeting with the two of you.” His eyes shifted to April. “I’ll get your money back. All of it.”
Sara shook her head. “No way. We’re done, Ryan. I don’t trust you. I don’t want to work with you. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“Sara, please,” he pleaded, his voice a soft caress just short of a whine.
“She said no, bud.” Josh had been so quiet where he stood a few feet behind her, she’d almost forgotten he was there.
Almost.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Roy Rogers.”
Sara saw Josh’s fists bunch at his sides. “Well, I’m talking to you,” he said, and took a step forward.
She put up a hand. “It’s okay, Josh.”
She’d been friends with Ryan long enough to know the pain and regret in his eyes were real. She wouldn’t admit it, but it got to her. That was Sara’s problem. She was a sucker for lost causes. Having been one for so many years, she could smell desperation on a person like some people could sniff out a good barbecue.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said again.
“You didn’t even call. I had to find out from your assistant.”
“I went straight from the casino to another stint in rehab.” He offered a sheepish smile. “I’m a little more self-aware now, at least.”
“Some good it did me.”
“Give me a chance, Sara.”
She blew out a breath and tried to ignore Josh seething next to her. “Fine. Call me if you get a meeting.”
Ryan gave her a bright smile. “That’s great. I’ll—”
“In the meantime, you can help out around the ranch. Aspen’s not that far and I know you have time on your hands. There’s lots to do before the guests arrive.”
“Hell, no.” Josh sliced the air with one hand. “He’s a lazy, no-good, designer-jeans-wearing pansy, and he’s not touching anything in my house.”
Sara whirled on him. “As I remember, this is my house.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” she said with a sniff. “And I don’t like it.” She turned to Ryan. “You’ll work, Ryan. And not as in making reservations. The real thing. Start paying off your debt.”
The frown he gave her said he wanted to argue but knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on. “Sure. I’ll do it. This is a guest ranch, right? What do you need? Someone to charm the clients. A wine sommelier, perhaps?”
She grinned. “A prep cook.”
“A what?”
“Someone to help April in the kitchen.”
April coughed loudly. “No, no, no. I don’t need him, don’t want him, won’t have him.”
Sara studied her friend. April was the kindest person she’d ever met. She didn’t have a bad word to say about anyone. She’d give the coat off her back to a complete stranger. She’d expected April to take on Ryan like another one her charity cases. After all, April had been taking care of Sara for close to a decade. April’s typically peaches-and-cream complexion had gone almost beet-red, and her chest rose and fell in frustrated huffs as she glared at Ryan.
He’d cost April her business and most of her savings, but even when Sara’d first shared the awful news, April had taken it in stride. She never lost her temper or got ruffled.
Until now.
She waited for Ryan to turn on his almost irresistible charm, offer April one of his trademark lines, smooth talk her into agreeing. Instead, he looked at Josh.
“Could you use a hand with maintenance?”
Josh shook his head.
“Grass to cut?”
“Nope.”
“Horse droppings to scoop?”
“Nothing.”
Ryan’s squeezed shut his eyes. “I can’t be completely useless. I’m done with useless.”
Sara threw a sharp glance in April’s direction. “Come on,” she mouthed silently.
April growled low in her throat. “You can help. But you’ll do what I say, which mainly involves staying out of my way.”
To Sara’s surprise, Ryan nodded, then stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I am sorry.”
“Make it better with April,” Sara whispered.
“She hates me.”
“Do you blame her?”
“I’m a good guy. With a little problem.”
“Ryan.”
“I need to get back to Aspen today.” He leaned back and scrubbed his hand over his face. “But I’ll be back and I’ll try.”
Sara glanced to where April stood, but her friend was gone. “Try hard,” she told Ryan. “April deserves to be happy.”
He ran a finger across her cheek. “We all do.”
“If you say so,” she answered. They both knew she didn’t mean it.
Josh watched Ryan head toward the front door. His plan had seemed so simple a few months ago. Move back to his small hometown and make a new life on this secluded property. Work at the ranch would give both he and Claire the home and stability he needed. He’d be able to forget his past, the pain of his accident and losing his career—the only thing he’d ever cared about in his life.
With enough hard work, he’d be so exhausted he wouldn’t miss the smell of the arena, would stop aching for the feel of a thousand-pound bull beneath him and the adrenaline rush that came with those seconds in the ring.
With enough patience, his daughter would stop looking at him like he was the enemy.
Now he had three California misfits crowding his space. Josh didn’t do people and their problems. He had friends, sure. Other bull riders who were like him, happy to spend time drinking beer and watching old footage. Once guys left the ring and made homes and families for themselves, he usually lost touch. He was a loner and liked it that way. No complications.
The woman who walked over to the picture window at the far end of the family room was the biggest complication he’d ever met. She complicated his life. What happened to his insides when he watched her was a problem he sure didn’t need.
He took a few steps toward her, not close enough to smell the scent that always surrounded her—some strange mix of honey and cinnamon—sweet with a bit of kick. But close enough that she couldn’t not be aware of him. He wanted her to notice him as much as he did her.
“Do you two have a thing going?” he asked casually.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “You mean Ryan?”
“Who else?”
“Does it matter?”
A muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “Stop answering my questions with questions.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “My thirteen-year-old daughter is right down the hall from him. I don’t want her waking up to any moaning and groaning next door.”
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