The sun burns like hell, even through the fabric of my shirt. Though we’re only a few hours away from dusk, it’s hotter than balls today. Has May always been this cruel? Or is it just the extra stress in my life that’s making it seem so?

“I’ve never seen stronger fences than these,” Steve says, placing his gloved hand on one of the posts and attempting to give it a shake. The wood doesn’t budge.

I exchange a look with Dane, who, like me, is sitting on his horse. Steve’s own palomino, left alone, gives a whinny.

“We still have the southern fences to check,” Dane says.

“We checked them yesterday,” I remind him.

Both of the men grimly nod. We’re all thinking the same thing. Repairing fences on a cattle ranch is a nonstop job. It’s rare that each inch of fence is secure. We should be happy things are looking so good. But with the amount of local cattle going missing over the last month, it’s hard to be anything other than morose.

“No bull or calf is getting through this fence,” Steve murmurs.

“Unless they have help,” I respond through gritted teeth. “Come on. Let’s get back for dinner.”

Steve climbs on his horse, and the three of us ride along the northern fence line, which will take us right to the main house. My shoulders are tight, and I can’t seem to unlock my jaw. Seeing the intact fences did nothing to assuage my worries. Cattle are going missing in Aston County. Either all of my neighbors have suddenly become negligent or someone is stealing heads. Luckily, none of my own cattle have up and vanished. Not yet, anyway.

“I’ll put the horses up,” Dane says once we’re at the stables.

“No,” I firmly answer. “You two go and get washed up. I’ll take care of them.”

Dane nods silently. As my closet friend since JV football, he knows there’s no arguing with me. Dane would work until his hands bled if he needed to, but I won’t ask that kind of commitment out of anyone but myself. I’m the only McPherson left on this ranch, which means the brunt of the work is my responsibility alone.

Dane takes off his Stetson and wipes the sweat from his dark brows before following Steve to the house. I stand by the horse stable and watch them for a moment. Halfway up the hill, the mansion of a log cabin my grandfather built with his own hands waits for them. The house is a marvel. I never get tired of looking at it. I just can’t stay in it. As beautiful as some things are, they’re also painful. That house holds too many memories for me—they’re mostly good ones, yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re not hard as well.

“Come on, girls,” I tell the horses, leading the three of them into the stables. They eagerly follow, anxious to get their dinners and rest in the cool stalls.

“You all did good today.” Since all eighteen of the ranch hands are at the house for dinner, I’m not worried about anyone hearing me talking to the animals.

My boots thud against the concrete of the stable’s walkway. I go a few feet in, toward Starlight’s stall, then stop. There’s a figure leaned over Mikey’s stall, but it doesn’t belong to anyone who works here.

My lungs freeze on an inhale as I take in the long, pale legs . . . the tight, jean shorts . . . the soft, round hips.

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” a musical female voice says.

The words send electricity through my veins. I work my jaw around, knowing I need to say something to announce my presence, but I can’t seem to get my damn mouth open.

The woman unexpectedly straightens up and turns around. She’s younger than I originally thought—that’s the first thing I notice. Also, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. With blond hair that falls around her face in layers and big, brown eyes, she looks like a model from the pages of a magazine.

She gasps as her eyes fall on me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t . . .”

I hold up my palm to silence her. “That’s all right. I just got here. And I talk to the horses myself, so there’s no need to be embarrassed over that.”

She ducks her face. “I just couldn’t help it. Uncle Daniel said it was all right to explore, as long as—”

“You’re Daniel’s niece?”

She nods.

I inwardly curse myself. How the hell did I forget that Daniel’s niece was arriving today? Usually I’m good at remembering even the smallest details, but somehow I’d let the information about the girl who’d be coming to stay at the ranch for the summer slip my mind.

Realizing I’m just standing here staring at her, I clear my throat and take off my hat. “I’m Cord McPherson.”

She licks her lips, and the simple action makes heat fill my core. Damn, this girl is something. Either I’ve been working too hard, or I’ve gone too long without the touch of a woman. On second thought, it’s probably both.

“I’m Sloane.”

“Sloane.” The name slips off my tongue like cool spring water flows over worn-down stones.

Behind me, one of the horses huffs, but she’ll have to wait just one more minute. It’s not often that I run into a beautiful girl. After basically giving up dating two years ago, my encounters with the world outside of this ranch have been reduced to close to zero.

Grocery store. Library. Home. Repeat. That’s my life.

“When did you get in?” I ask.

“About an hour ago . . . So you’re the owner of the ranch, right?” She steps forward and extends a hand. The gesture seems at odds with the shyness she just exhibited, but I take her hand and give it a careful shake. Her fingers feel so delicate in my own. I’m afraid that if I accidentally squeeze too tight, I might break her.

The thought of being rough with her sends a quick, forbidden image flashing through my mind. It’s that of Sloane, her hair tousled and her lips parted. She’s beneath me, her soft skin pressing against each available inch of my own . . .

Pervert, that voice in my head whispers. You don’t even know how old this girl is.

I quickly clear my throat and put my hat back on. “How long are you staying for, Miss Sloane?”

She chews on her bottom lip. “Uncle Daniel said the summer would be fine, so I guess until then. Thank you for letting me stay here, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. And no money in the world could buy another foreman as good as your uncle. His family is my family.”

Sloane smiles in appreciation. “I just want to make sure I’m not imposing.”

“Not at all.”

She folds her hands together in front of her and solemnly nods. It’s another action that seems out of place on a woman so young. Either I’m reading her all wrong, or she’s the result of some good breeding.

“Where are you from?” I ask. Daniel probably told me, but I was a dumbass and forgot.

“Los Angeles. Well, most recently, Connecticut.”

“Those two places are a long ways from each other.”

“I went to school in Connecticut.”

“Where abouts?”

“Um, Howe.” She tucks some hair behind her ear and looks uncomfortable. “Just for one year.”

“Howe?” I press. “Isn’t that where Bexley is?”

“Yes, that’s right,” she stiffly responds.

I stare at Sloane, trying to make sense out of what’s happening. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s embarrassed over going to school at one of the most sought-after universities in the world.

“Hold on,” I say slowly. “You didn’t graduate yet, did you? You look so young.”

“I’m nineteen.” Sloane clears her throat. “And I left.”

The tone of her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t want to talk any more about it. Knowing I’m getting dangerously close to pushing her away, I back off. “Can I walk you up to dinner?”

A hint of a smile plays across her lips. “Sure.”

“Let me just put these girls away.”

We’re quiet as I brush down and feed the horses. The other ones have already been taken care of for the evening and are comfortably resting in their stalls. Though Sloane and I don’t say anything as I work, I can feel her eyes on me the whole time. Her presence charges the air with a strange, cackling energy. It’s like the change that sometimes comes over the ranch when a thunderstorm is on its way. Except its better. It’s pleasing . . . calming.

I find my fingers shaking slightly as I close up the last stall door. A hundred questions regarding the mysterious girl next to me are swirling around in my head. Why did she leave school? What made her want to come to my ranch? Does she have a boyfriend back in Connecticut? I want to ask her everything all at once, but I’ll have to wait. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so attracted to a woman, and I can’t afford to fuck things up.

“All done,” I announce, wiping my hands on my jeans. Sloane and I leave the stable and begin a slow walk toward the house. The sky is awash with shades of pink and purple, another beautiful and original sunset. Sloane walks just a few inches away from me, and my hand nearest her keeps swinging in her direction, like its pulled by a magnetic force.

“Did you meet Miranda yet?” I ask.

“No, not yet. Uncle Daniel took my stuff in. I’ve just been looking around outside since I got here. You just raise cattle?”

“That’s about all we have time for.”

“It seems hard.”

“It’s fulfilling.”

“Did you ever want to . . .” She looks wistfully up at the sky as she walks. “Did you ever want to do something else?”

I can’t keep my eyes off of her. “Why would I?”

Sloane shrugs. “I don’t know . . . Just because the things that seem right aren’t always that way. You know?”

Irritation pricks my chest. “No.”

Sloane keeps going on, almost as if she hadn’t heard me. “It’s like all of life is other people telling us what to do all the time. Do you ever stop and think about that?”

I dryly laugh. “I’d like to think I’m the boss of myself. I do run this ranch, after all.”

Sloane stops walking and turns to face me. “But sometimes we think we’re doing what we want to be, but we’re really just living someone else’s life.”

The irritation I’m feeling transforms into all out anger. I don’t know who this girl thinks she is, coming in here and questioning my entire life, but I’m not putting up with it. I have too much shit to deal with as it is. The fact that Sloane is so fucking beautiful makes her suggestions even worse.

“I’m not feeling that hungry,” I announce. “You go on ahead of me.”

Sloane’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “You’re not? But haven’t you been working all day?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “And I have even more work to get done.”

Before she can say another word, I turn and stalk back toward the stables. My temples pound, and my hands curl into fists. The nerve of that woman . . .

I should have known. Born and bred in Tinsel Town. Educated at Bexley. Beautiful as a supermodel. Why wouldn’t a girl like that just waltz in here and act like she has everything figured out?

And it’s probably not even her background that makes her stuck-up. She’s so much like that girl, Samantha, who I met at the rodeo. I thought she was cute until she started talking shit about the riders. Or Caroline, the girl I dated for three months—until she informed me that, were we to become serious, I’d have to quit ranching. Some girls just think they can say and do whatever they want.

Now I remember why I gave up dating.

Still, though . . . those eyes, those lips, those legs. A groan starts in my chest, and I push it back down. It’s a damn shame that I’m so attracted to Sloane Gentry. When you’ve gone as long as I have without the touch of a woman, seeing a sexy as sin one bent over in your horse stable is near enough to make you rock hard.

But it doesn’t matter. I’ve dated the know-it-all girls. I’ve done the shallow ones and the uptight ones. It doesn’t matter how beautiful a woman is. If her personality doesn’t match the physical goods, there’s no point in trying.

I just wish my dick felt the same way.