“It’s an interesting idea, don’t you think? Even if he tried to tell a lie, it wouldn’t come out of his mouth.”
He just watched her.
“I’m kind of babbling.”
“Yep.”
He did that to her, she thought. He was such a presence. Big and broad and totally in his space—in her space. People in L.A. were always planning what came next, even if it was a trip to the mall. But Josh stayed in the moment no matter what he was doing. He kept busy, and to her eternal gratitude, she hadn’t seen much of him other than watching him walk across the property early in the morning to take care of the horses, then catching glimpses of him throughout the day.
Yesterday, he’d spent most of his time on the roof of the largest cabin, replacing worn shingles. When the sun moved high overhead and the temperature rose with it, he’d taken off his shirt. Much to her dismay, Sara found herself staring out the window in the office far too often. It had been a while since she’d had a man in her life, but she figured she could get her wayward hormones under better control than that.
Here in the quiet intimacy of the library, those little buggers took flight again. With Josh standing in front of her, his faded T-shirt stretched over his chest and sculpted arms, she could imagine...
Nope.
She did not imagine. She’d given up her imagination when she’d abandoned her dreams, around the time she began filling in waitress under the occupation heading on paperwork.
This man was all that stood in the way of the possibility of reclaiming her life, or at the very least, creating a new one. The money from the sale would allow April and her to start over. The only view she’d let herself imagine was Josh Travers disappearing in her rearview mirror.
“So what are you doing here? Did they run out of Playboys at the general store? I don’t think the library has a subscription.”
He shrugged then held out a book. The cover read Talk To Your Teenager Without Losing Your Mind.
“That’s a mouthful.”
“The librarian recommended it.”
“It’s nice that you’re willing to read a parenting book.”
“Claire hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Sara argued as she stood and gathered her things.
“This morning after you and April left I asked her to help me feed the horses. You would have thought I was waterboarding her.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I thought all girls loved horses.”
“Not all,” she clarified.
“Thanks, I’ve got that now. One of the mares sniffed her and she freaked out. I laughed a little.”
“You laughed at her?”
He smacked the heel of his hand to his forehead. “So shoot me. I didn’t mean it. She threw a bucket of grain at me, screamed that she hated the ranch, she hated her mother and most of all she hated me. My dad would have whipped my butt if I’d thrown a fit like that.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. She ran back to the house. I finished in the barn and came here.”
Sara led the way out of the library and into the warm afternoon air. She glanced up at the bright blue sky, still surprised at how much this small mountain town resembled a movie set. “She doesn’t hate you,” she repeated.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” Josh asked, his face incredulous.
“She’s a teenager. Hormones running rampant and in a new place with a parent she barely knows. Give her time.”
He looked like he wanted to argue then took a breath. “Time. Right. When are you coming back?”
Sara checked her watch. “I’m supposed to meet April in a half hour.”
“What’s the deal with the two of you? She was willing to follow you to Crimson and seems happy to do her part at the ranch. That’s quite the package deal.”
“I don’t know much about the rodeo circuit, but in Hollywood finding someone who truly cares is a rarity.” Sara took a breath before continuing. “I met April about the time my career was starting to tank and my personal life was just as messed up. She stuck with me through the bad stuff, and I did the same with her when she had her own troubles. She doesn’t belong in L.A. anymore. If a summer at the ranch can help her see that, all of this would be worth it. She deserves happiness more than anyone I know.”
He studied her for several moments. She struggled not to fidget under his scrutiny. “You’re a good friend,” he said finally.
“Oh, I’m the bee’s knees, and don’t you forget it.” She laughed, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze. “I need to stop by that clothing store at the end of the block. My L.A. wardrobe doesn’t really work here.”
Josh took a long look at the outfit she wore today. A shapeless black-and-white-striped sweater dress over skintight black jeans that zipped from knee to ankle. Her shoes, Converse trainers, were at least more practical than the heeled boots she’d worn yesterday. Without the heels, she was pixie-size, and if it wasn’t for the heavy makeup lining her eyes and dark wine-colored lipstick, she might have passed for a teenager herself.
A lock of neon hair slipped from her newsboy cap, and she tucked it behind her ear. Josh’s gaze locked on the soft blond wisps at the base of her neck, and he was momentarily fascinated to imagine her natural honey color.
That was the kind of woman he was drawn to: natural, sweet and compliant. A woman who’d bake pies from scratch with strawberries fresh from the garden. The kind of woman he could grow old with, reveling in a normal, boring, run-of-the-mill Ozzie and Harriett life. Not a bitter, bossy, snappish former diva.
No attraction to that type.
Not at all.
He fell in step beside her.
“You mean Feathers and Threads?” Other than T-shirt shops and the fishing shop, which sold outdoor gear, that was the only women’s clothing store in town.
“I prefer to think of it as Cowgirl Duds R Us.”
He chuckled. “It’s not bad. Do you think you could help me pick out something for Claire? Maybe a necklace or earrings?”
She slanted him a curious look.
“A peace offering. For this morning.”
“Buying your way out of the doghouse?”
“Whatever it takes.” They reached the end of the block. “I need to stop in at the fly shop first. I ordered vests and waders for the ranch.”
She didn’t slow her pace. “See you in a few.”
He watched her walk away and couldn’t help but notice that the way her hips swayed under the striped dress was all woman.
Damn.
The bells over the door of Feathers and Threads chimed as he walked in fifteen minutes later. He glanced around but didn’t see Sara. Maybe she was in the dressing room.
“Hey, Rita,” he called to the shop’s owner, who stood behind the counter with a young salesgirl and a cluster of customers.
He’d brought Claire here when she’d first arrived in town. His daughter had taken one look at the racks and announced she’d be buying her clothes from the Hollister website. The morning after, he’d taken Rita to coffee as an apology for Claire’s rudeness.
Too bad she’d read more into that than he’d meant. She’d all but suggested a quickie in the back room of the store. When he’d refused, she’d still found excuses to stop by the ranch several times, dropping