New Year, New Man: A Kiss on Crimson Ranch / The Dance Off / The Right Mr. Wrong

He stepped forward and held out a hand. “I’m Josh Travers.”

She eyed his outstretched palm like he’d offered her a snake. “Why are you living in my house?”

“Her house?” Claire asked.

Josh turned to his daughter. “Maybe you could head up to your room for a bit?”

“You must be joking.” Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “And miss this?”

He made his tone all business. “Now, Claire.”

His daughter made a face. “Bite me, Josh. I’m not leaving.”

He heard Sara muffle a laugh as he stared down the beautiful, belligerent thirteen-year-old who had every right to hate him as much as she did. He’d been a lousy dad. Almost as bad as his own father, which was quite an accomplishment. He didn’t know how to deal with her anger or attitude. Did he play bad cop or go soft? He barely knew his daughter, and in the weeks she’d been living at the ranch, he hadn’t made much progress on repairing their relationship. One of the laundry list of things he should feel guilty about.

“Fine.” He turned to Sara, who smiled at him. At his expense. “Trudy and I were partners.”

“Is that so?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Very The Graduate, although you don’t strike me as much of a Dustin Hoffman. And from what I remember, Gran was no Anne Bancroft.”

Josh shook his head and glanced at the hippie lady. “What is she talking about?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sara likes movie analogies. Ignore it.”

He wished he could ignore this entire situation.

“Dad, is this our house or what?” Claire asked.

He sighed. “Technically, it belonged to Trudy.”

Sara jingled the keys again.

“And now to you,” he admitted.

“Oh. My. God.” Claire let out a muffled cry. “I have no home. Again.” She whirled on Josh. “You told me we were going to stay here. I could paint my room. Are you going to send me off like Mom did? Who else is left to take me?”

“No, honey. We are going to stay here. I’ll work it out. I’m not sending you anywhere.”

She sniffled and Josh turned to Sara. “Your grandmother and I were opening a guest ranch. She owns the house, but I have the twenty-five acres surrounding it. We back up onto the National Forest so it’s the perfect location for running tours. I’ve been here since the fall working on renovations and booking clients. Guests start arriving in a couple of weeks.”

Sara looked from Claire to Josh, her gaze almost accusatory. “Does it make money?”

He tried to look confident. “It will. I’ve sunk everything I have into the place.” Everything I had left after medical bills, he added silently. “Trudy was going to help for the first season. I planned to buy her out with my half of the profits.”

“But now the house is mine.”

Josh nodded. “I don’t expect you to hang around. I’ll cover the mortgage. At the end of the summer, I can take the whole place off your hands.”

“Why can’t you buy it from me now?” Her gaze traveled around the large room.

“The bank wants to see that it’s a viable business before they’ll approve my loan. Trust me, it’s a good plan. Trudy and I worked it out.”

She looked him up and down. “Trudy isn’t here anymore.”

“I know,” he agreed, feeling the familiar ache in his chest as he thought of the woman who’d been more of a mother to him than his own. He wondered how difficult Sara was going to make this for him. He’d known Trudy’s granddaughter had inherited the house. Josh had gone directly from the funeral service to the bank to see if he had any options. He didn’t. He needed time and a bang-up summer to make this work. Otherwise, he might as well burn his savings in a bonfire out back. There was no Plan B.

“What if I want to sell now?”

His gut tightened. “Rose got to you already.”

“How do you know my mother?”

“She and her land-developer boyfriend have been here a couple of times. The guy wants to tear down the house and build luxury condos on the property. Make Crimson a suburb of Aspen. What an idiot.”

Claire took a step forward. “Are you going to let us stay or should I start packing?” She eyed both Sara and Josh as she bit her lip. “Because all my stuff is folded and in drawers where I want it.”

He heard the desperation in her voice, knew that despite her smart mouth, his daughter was hanging on by a short thread these days. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, they had that much in common. He’d promised to take care of her, make up for his past mistakes. The ones he made with her and those he’d buried deeper than that. He needed this summer to do it.

“Claire, I told you—”

“I know what it’s like to want a place to call home,” Sara said quietly, her attention focused completely on Claire. Her eyes had gentled in a way that made his heartbeat race. For a moment, he wished she’d look at him with that soft gaze.

Claire blew out a pent-up breath and gave Sara a shy smile, not the sarcastic sneer she typically bestowed on him. His heart melted at both her innocence and how much she reminded him of another girl he’d once tried to protect.

Sara returned the smile and his pulse leaped to a full gallop. Don’t go there, he reminded himself. Not with that one.

“Can you give your dad and me time to talk?” Sara asked. “To work things out? Maybe you could show April around.” She pulled her friend forward. “She’s into nature and stuff.”

“Come on,” April said. “Can we walk to the pond I saw on the way in?”

Claire nodded. “It’s quicker to go out the back.”

As she passed, Josh moved to give his daughter a hug. She shrugged away from his grasp. One step at a time. He’d seen her smile, even if it wasn’t at him.

“Thanks,” he said when the back door clicked. “I’m sure we can—”

“Cut the bull.”

So much for the soft gaze.

She folded her arms across her chest. Josh forced himself to keep his eyes on her face.

“I don’t want to hurt your kid, but I don’t have time to play Swiss Family Robinson for the summer. I need money and I need it now. If you want to make a deal, what do you have to offer?”

His adrenaline from a moment ago turned to anger and frustration. “I put everything I had into buying the land and fixing up the place. I’ve paid for marketing, a website, direct mail. We’ve got a real chance of making this work.” He raked his hands through his hair. “It has to work.”

“I’m not about to...” She stopped and cocked her head.

“What? Not about to what?”