A Kiss On Crimson Ranch. Michelle Major
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hadn’t mentioned that. “Then why is my mother’s latest boyfriend so hot for it?”
Josh took a moment to answer. “Basically, I’m hosed without the house. I can’t run a guest ranch without a place to put the clients. If he gets you to sell to him now, I won’t have an income stream this summer. And without money...”
“I know what happens without money.”
“Right. Here’s the deal. Assuming things go well when the season starts, I can pay you double the mortgage for the next three months. That should get you through until I can secure the loan.”
“Why should I do it your way?”
He lifted one brow. “Because you’re a kind and generous soul,” he suggested.
She answered with a snort. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
“It will make your mother crazy mad.”
“That’s a little better.”
“Listen, Sara. Your gran was one of the best. She was nice to me when I was a kid and a good friend since I got back. While I don’t know the terms of her will, it doesn’t surprise me that she left you the house. She loved this place and she talked about you a lot.”
“I barely knew her.”
He nodded. “One of her biggest regrets was that she didn’t do more for you. Help you out when things got rough.”
“Woulda, shoulda, coulda,” Sara said, but turned away when her voice cracked. “You know, I spent a summer here right before the show got picked up.”
“Trudy told me.”
“It’s funny. I don’t remember a thing about that time.”
“Look around the house...maybe it will come back to you. I’m going to find Claire. Whatever you decide, Sara, your grandmother did love you. You should know that.”
She waited until his footsteps faded, then let her gaze wander after quickly checking that the dog remained sleeping on the floor.
The house was more an oversize log cabin, exposed beams running the length of the walls and across the ceiling. Their honey color gave the interior a cozy warmth in the late-afternoon sunlight. Across from the kitchen was a family room with high ceilings and a picture window that framed a million-dollar view of the craggy peaks surrounding the valley.
An overstuffed sectional and several leather armchairs sat in front of a wall of bookshelves with a large flat-screen TV in the center. Nothing looked the least bit familiar to her, and she wondered whether Josh had gotten the new gadgets or if her grandmother had been into cutting-edge electronics.
Did all of it belong to her, or would he strip the house if she sold? Maybe she should have spent a little more time with the attorney. Sara had been so angry when her mother had shown up that she clearly hadn’t gotten the whole story about this place.
Couldn’t anything be easy? she wondered as she made her way up to the second floor. She peeked her head into the first bedroom. Posters of pop stars and young actors lined the walls. A blue-and-purple comforter with peace signs covered the bed. Claire’s room.
Next to that was a bathroom, and then came the master bedroom. She stayed at the threshold, not wanting to venture into the room where Josh slept. Even from the doorway, she could smell the same scent he’d had today—a little woodsy, a little minty and totally male. She didn’t want to be affected by his scent, by anything about a man who was entirely too rugged and rough for her taste.
She stepped quickly to the end of the hall. The final bedroom had soft yellow walls with lace-trimmed curtains, a four-poster bed and an antique dresser next to a dark wood ladder-back chair. She took a breath as she walked to the front of the dresser, skimming her fingers across the lace doily that covered the top. Framed photos lined one side, mostly her grandmother with people she didn’t recognize, friends probably.
A few showed her mother as a girl, and in one she was a young woman carrying a baby: Sara. Sara was just a toddler in the photo and she smiled at the camera, one hand raised in a wave. Sara didn’t remember a time before the endless rounds of auditions, cereal commercials and eventually prime-time celebrity. She’d been ten when Just the Two of Us first aired. The next seven years had been spent in a constant cycle of filming, promotions and off-season television movies.
It surprised her that her grandmother had none of her promo photos displayed. The only photos Rose had framed in their two-bedroom condo were publicity shots. Sara’s hand trailed over a photo album that sat in front of the frames. She traced the jeweled beads that had been glued to the cover in the shape of her name. A sliver of memory trailed through her insides.
She sat down on the bed and flipped open the album. Her heart skipped a beat as she gazed at the first page. It was a picture of her holding a giant ice-cream bar, mouth covered in chocolate, grinning wildly at the camera. In the next picture, she was on a trail, her blond hair pulled back in two pigtails and wearing an oversize cowboy hat. Her jaw dropped as she continued to turn the pages. Pictures of her feeding horses, a shot of her curled in a tight embrace with her grandmother. She read the caption below the photo: “Sara’s first annual summer visit” written in Trudy’s loping penmanship.
As she’d remembered, her mother had gotten a small part in a blockbuster Steven Spielberg movie that year. A part that had ended up on the cutting room floor. Shortly after that movie, Rose had switched her considerable energy to Sara’s career. Which explained why first annual had quickly become one and only. Although Sara had no memory of this place, clearly she’d spent some happy times here.
And that was what her grandmother knew of her: Sara as a normal girl, before Rose had created Serena Wellens, deeming Sara too basic a name for the superstar she was destined to become. Even at the height of her fame, Sara had never identified herself as Serena. She’d been content with plain old Sara, although her mother had reminded her on a regular basis that fresh-faced Saras were a dime a dozen in Hollywood.
She’d had to become someone else, someone more special than who she was.
Being Sara wasn’t enough.
She sniffed as a tear fell onto the photo, then wiped at it with her thumb. Taking a deep breath, she stood. One thing she had in common with her more glamorous persona was that neither one of them did tears.
She placed the album back on the dresser and started down the hall, but her gaze caught on a poster on the far side of Claire’s bedroom wall. It was a picture of Albert Einstein with a famous quote underneath.
Sara wasn’t one for inspirational quotes. Actions spoke louder than words in her world. She didn’t know any details of Josh and Claire’s relationship, but it had been very clear that it wasn’t good. As she looked around the bedroom, she wondered what would happen if they didn’t get this summer together.
She shouldn’t care. Neither of them were her business. A month ago when she’d landed back on the tabloid covers and lost her most recent waitressing job, she’d vowed to mind her own business. Take care of herself. She was number one.
But she’d seen something in Claire’s eyes that she hadn’t remembered feeling for way too long. Hope. Even as the girl had looked at Josh with anger and resentment, there’d been a spark of something that said don’t give up on me. Josh didn’t seem like a quitter, so maybe they’d have a chance. The chance Sara had never had for a normal life.
How could she take that away?
Her heart raced as she made a decision. She hurried down the stairs and out the back door before she came to her senses.
Josh, Claire and April were walking across the field behind the house. She waited until they got close. “Good news,” she announced. “I’m staying.”
Josh stopped dead in his tracks. “What do you mean staying?”
“Here. For the summer. I’ll make sure you have a good season, and then sell