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