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

Josh’s voice so close to her made Sara practically leap out of her skin. “Good gravy,” she said, thumping her heart with one hand. “Sneak up on a person much?”

“Avoid eye contact much?” he countered.

Sara knew a challenge when she heard it but didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m trying to help out, you know, get your kid fed.”

He spun her around to look at him and lifted her sunglasses onto her head. Her eyelids fluttered shut as his finger traced her eyelashes. “You left off the heavy makeup today. It’s nice.”

She batted at his hand. “I should have known you’d be a sucker for plain Janes. Trust me, I won’t tempt you again.”

“There is nothing plain about you, Hollywood.” His voice was a caress that made her insides warm and gooey. She swayed just a little. “Besides which, you tempt me each and every time I lay eyes on you. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” she said, an obvious lie. “I’m just a little light-headed, probably the altitude. Food will help.”

“This is why I want the ranch to work.”

She stared at him. “To make people sick?”

His mouth twitched but his eyes remained serious. “To take them out of their comfort zone,” he said, dropping his arms to spread his hands wide. “These mountains change people. Inspire them. Make them see the world and their place in it in a different light. Sometimes there’s no other way.”

She nodded, although she didn’t know if he was talking generally or about her in particular. Either way, she understood down to her soul what he meant.

“I want to do that for the people coming here. When someone books a trip with us, it’s not like heading to Disney World or Fort Lauderdale at spring break. It means something. To them. To me.”

“I get it,” she answered automatically, taken aback at his emotion.

“Do you? Do you understand how precious these mountains are? How few truly wild places there are left in this country? I want to celebrate that, help people appreciate it.”

“A cowboy environmentalist?” Her lame attempt to lighten the moment fell flat.

He shook his head in clear frustration. “Do you think your mother’s fast-talking boyfriend is going to give a rat’s behind about the beauty of this place when he builds his luxury condos?”

“Rich people can have breakthroughs, too, you know.”

“Not with what he has planned. Have you seen them? The plans?”

“No.”

“He’s going to level the trees that surround your grandmother’s house. Put in a competition-size swimming pool under a huge bubble. Sure, he’ll have a couple miles of paved trails—wouldn’t want to scuff your running shoes on actual dirt.”

“He’s not going to demolish the entire forest,” she argued.

“It changes things, Sara. Crimson is special. We don’t need another Aspen-type playground for the rich and famous. Can’t you see that?”

She did see it, but the knowledge left her in a precarious position. “What I see is that I need money and Richard Hamish has it. I haven’t sold yet. You still have time, the entire season, to line up financing. But if not, you know what I have to do.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Spoken like a true Californian.”

“Was that the reason you let me come today, to prove some kind of point?” Despite her rising anger, her heart hammered in her chest anticipating his answer.

He stared at her, then sighed and said, “No. I wanted you to see this because it’s amazing and breathtaking. I thought you’d like it. Both you and Claire.” Reaching out, his thumb trailed across the skin exposed above the collar of her V-neck sweatshirt. “I wanted you here.”

She itched for a fight, a reason to funnel her traitorous emotions into anger. She needed to pull away, from this man and his daughter, from the house that her grandmother had loved. The place that, despite her best efforts, Sara had quickly come to consider home. The honesty of his response and the warmth in his gaze melted away her defenses, and she felt herself more drawn to him than ever.

Her hand lifted to his, her fingers rubbing his calloused palm. “Let’s focus on that, okay? Just for now. Can you do that? We’ll have lunch, make Claire happy and deal with the rest later.”

Her own version of a peace offering.

He lifted her fingers to his mouth and rubbed his lips across her knuckles. Butterflies flitted along her spine in response. “Later,” he murmured.

Somehow she didn’t think he was talking about their problems.

Which scared her even more.

* * *

Sara left Josh and Claire in the equipment garage two hours later and brought the backpacks into the kitchen to clean up. The afternoon had been perfect, relaxed and easy, with dad and daughter actually having a real conversation about Claire’s homesickness for her old friends. Josh had suggested setting up Skype on the office computer so Claire could stay in touch, which had made Claire happy.

Neither had brought up Claire’s mother or her dubious summer activities. The question remained what would happen once school started. But that was another issue to deal with later. And not hers, she reminded herself.

She couldn’t quite wipe the grin off her face and was relieved April didn’t seem to be around to ask questions about the afternoon. She bent forward to put the leftover apples back into the fridge.

“You’re avoiding me.”

At the sound of the voice, Sara jumped, banging her head on the top of the refrigerator. “Then take a hint, Ryan,” she said, rubbing the bump.

“We need to talk.” He stood, one hip hitched up on the counter, wearing a wrinkled polo shirt, cargo shorts and flip-flops.

“I don’t think so.” She pointed at his feet. “What kind of help can you be on a ranch wearing those?”

“I had a meeting in Aspen earlier.” He raised a brow. “Besides, I saw you take off with Josh. Looks like I’m not the only one playing hooky today.”

She blew out a breath. “He wanted to take Claire for a ride. It made her more comfortable if I came, too.”

“You’re still as much of an addict as me, Sara.”

“I was in that rehab center for publicity and you know it. I am not an addict.”

“I’m not talking drugs or alcohol. People and their problems. You’re addicted to fixing other people’s issues. Makes it easier to ignore your own.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

“Because this house belongs to me now,” she said, holding tight to the refrigerator door handle but unsure why she needed the support. “I can make more money from a successful season than a bust.”

“And what will you do then?”

“Repay April the money that you gambled away. Finally start the yoga center she wants.”