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.”
One side of her mouth kicked up. “What if Ryan’s at my cabin?”
He fought the urge to growl. “I don’t need a soap opera played out in front of the clients.”
She turned to him fully. “I don’t do soap operas.” Her eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I’m a moaner?”
Only the fact he’d spent the past three nights imagining the sounds she’d make when she was in his arms, under him, wrapped around him.
He took a step closer, so near that her subtle scent surrounded him and he could feel her breath against his jaw. His fingers reached out and pushed a wayward lock of streaked hair behind her ear. He’d only meant to touch her that little bit, but she turned her cheek, ever so slightly, into his palm. Her warm skin tempted him, called to his inner need. It wasn’t a fight he could possibly win.
He brought his other hand up to cradle her face, tracing the edge of her lips with a calloused thumb.
