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 it to you in September.”
Claire did a little dance around him, making his head spin more than it already was. “That’s so great,” she gushed. “Now maybe this summer won’t be as awful as I thought.”
“Hey,” he said, pulling her around to look at him. “You think it’s going to be bad?”
She shrugged then wiggled out of his grasp. “Not as much as before.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and counted to ten. When he looked at Sara again, she’d walked toward April and taken the other woman’s hands in hers. “I know I messed up and I’m going to make it right for you. The cowboy here offered to pay me double the mortgage for the next three months. That should at least cover your expenses for the summer. If Ryan ever calls...”
He didn’t bother to try to follow their conversation. “I said I’d pay you double to leave. Go back to California. Let me run things here. You’ll get your money.”
She shot him a dubious look. “Hell, no, partner. I’m sticking right here, and I’m going to make sure things go right.”
“I’ve got it under control,” he ground out.
“Oh, yeah? That kitchen looks pretty decked out. I’d guess my gran was going to do the cooking.”
He nodded, not liking where this conversation was going.
“Best blueberry muffins ever,” Claire added.
“And now?”
“I’m interviewing people,” he admitted. “Do you cook?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not my point.”
“Which is?”
“You need help.”
“Not from you, I don’t.”
“I could handle the kitchen,” April offered quietly.
His gaze shot to April, who was looking at Sara.
“You don’t have to do that,” Sara told her. “You have a life.”
April smiled. “I could use a little break, and I’m sure I can sublet the beach house for the summer.”
“Is this because of losing the studio? You could teach some other place. Rent another space. You know your clients would follow you anywhere.”
“That’s the beautiful thing about yoga. I can take it anywhere, too.” She gave Josh a hopeful smile. “I could even offer a few classes on the ranch. To start the morning, maybe.”
Sara glared at him over April’s shoulder, nodding vigorously. “That would be perfect,” she said. “Your veggie burgers are the best. Josh, is there a Whole Foods anywhere around here?”
“A whole what?”
“They just opened one on the way to Aspen,” Claire piped in. “But Dad only shops at the Red Creek Market.”
April nodded. “It’s important to support local businesses. I’ll drive into town tomorrow morning and see what we can work out.”
“When are the first guests arriving?” Sara asked no one in particular. “We’ll need time to plan out the right menus. Do you have lists of food preferences and allergies? That sort of thing?”
“Hold on,” Josh bellowed, raking his hands through his hair. “Hold on! No one is making veggie anything at my ranch. People book trips looking for action and adventure, not airy-fairy spa treatments and yoga classes. They want to fish and race ATVs, hike fourteeners and mountain bike the local trails. I’m the boss around here. I do the hiring. I make the plans. I’m the one—”
He looked at the three women, April’s gaze a little hurt, Claire’s eyes narrowed and Sara shaking her head just a bit as she chewed on her full lower lip.
“I’m the boss,” he repeated quietly, willing it to be true.
“Don’t be a hater,” Claire mumbled.
“A what?” He rubbed his temples. “Never mind.”
“You don’t have a chef, do you?” Sara asked, her voice too knowing for his taste.
“I’m interviewing cooks.”
“And who’s planning all the so-called adventures?”
“I am.”
“And leading the fun?”
Was it his imagination or did her gaze stray to his knee? “That’s me, too. Got a problem?”
She took a step closer to him. Across the bridge of her nose, under who knew how many pounds of makeup, he could see the faint outline of freckles. Distracting freckles. Freckles he wanted to trace, wondering if her skin was as soft as it looked.
“Face it, cowboy,” she said, bringing him back to the moment, “you need us.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
He heard Claire snort.
“Jerk,”