Katy Hunter clung to the armrests as the charter plane dipped and jolted with turbulence on the way from Middle of Nowhere to Siberia.

“Siberia” being somewhat better known as Lulu, Montana, a blink-and-you’d-miss-it town in the Rockies where her biggest celebrity client had decided she wanted to get married.

Wonderful. Katy finally had the Hollywood client of her dreams, and rather than opting for the kind of opulence and elegance that Katy specialized in with her event planning company, Hannah Bailey wanted a Mayberry wedding.

She held her breath as the prop plane did another maneuver worthy of the Blue Angels. The bridal magazine slid off her lap and landed in a heap on the floor at her feet. Good riddance. She hated reading that rubbish anyway. She’d tried to explain to Hannah that she was an event planner, not a wedding coordinator—there was a difference.

But Hannah had refused to listen. As a fellow alum from St. Andrews, a prep school on New York’s Upper East Side, Hannah had taken a liking to Katy from their very first meeting, even though Hannah had graduated a few years before her and the two hadn’t crossed paths. They had even more in common when they’d discovered that they’d both left New York around the same time to start new careers in sunny California. Hannah had come to Los Angeles for a new starring role on a teen drama that had become crazy popular this past year, while Katy had come to strike out on her own as an event planner.

As Hannah liked to point out, two East Coast girls needed to stick together out in the cutthroat world of Hollywood. And for Hannah, apparently, that meant planning weddings together, even though Katy had let her client in on her deep, dark secret.

She hated weddings. Hated them. One would think that would be reason enough to get her off wedding planning duties, right?

Wrong. Hannah claimed that was a bonus because she didn’t want a traditional wedding. She wanted something unique.

So now, as Katy contemplated the fact that she might very well be catapulting toward her death on some remote mountain in the middle nowhere, it was all for the sake of a wedding.

She could not die this way. She absolutely refused to allow it.

With that thought, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, and then another. She was just starting to reach a moment of Zen when the plane took a nosedive toward the mountain below.

Or at least, that’s the way it felt.

She let out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak and gripped the armrest so hard her fingers hurt.

“This kind of turbulence is totally natural, you know.” The low voice coming from behind her shocked her so much that her eyes flew open. It wasn’t his words that startled her, obviously—his words were pretty mundane. It was the voice itself. Low, rumbly, and so sexy it should be criminal.

She turned in her seat to see who owned the voice and immediately wished she hadn’t. The man in question sat one row behind her and across the aisle. While she had to turn slightly to take him in, he obviously had a wonderful view of her deep breathing and hand clenching panic.

Oh great. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was anxious, now she would be acutely aware of the fact that a stupidly handsome cowboy was witnessing her meltdown.

How had she missed him when they’d boarded? He was too handsome. Excessively handsome. Sexy in that rugged, Marlboro man sort of way, with a button-down flannel shirt and faded jeans. Her gaze dropped down and sure enough, there was the cowboy hat sitting in his lap.

Of course he had a cowboy hat. The man screamed cowboy. Everything about him was weathered and rugged and manly and…

Oh heck, now she was staring.

He leaned forward, apparently encouraged to keep talking by her obvious interest. “This plane can withstand more than a little turbulence. It might seem shaky but it’ll hold up just fine.”

She met his gorgeous brown eyes and frowned. “Are you some sort of plane expert or something?”

He hitched his brows up slightly and his lips twitched into a smirk that was devastatingly sexy, even though she had a feeling he was laughing at her. “No, ma’am. Just trying to help.”

Everything about that statement made her bristle with resentment. First of all, ma’am. Really? She was twenty-seven, not seventy-two. And what woman of any age wanted to be called ma’am?

But even more irritating was that know-it-all tone and the condescending mansplaining. If there was one thing that drove her nuts, it was these alpha male types who thought every woman needed a knight in shining armor to come to her rescue.

She was perfectly capable of rescuing herself, thanks very much. She looked down at her white knuckles and amended that thought. She was perfectly capable of rescuing herself from anything except the fiery wreckage of a downed plane.

Yes, that was exactly the kind of positive thinking that would keep her calm during this crisis.

And it was a crisis. All of it. This whole ridiculous situation she’d found herself in. First this plane ride from her worst nightmares, then meeting another hot guy who thought he knew what was best for her, and then, worst out of all of these—she had to spend a long weekend in Montana.

Not at some chic ski lodge or a yoga retreat or a natural hot springs spa. No, no. Thanks to her lovely friend-slash-biggest client, she would be spending her precious holiday weekend at a ranch—a ranch!—in the middle of nowhere.

From what Katy could tell online, this wasn’t one of those luxury ranches, where they let you pretend to play cowboy while actually relaxing in beds with thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets and all the amenities of home.

Oh, no. Hannah wanted the real experience, not some tourist trap.

“Tourist trap” had been Hannah’s terminology, obviously. Katy would have been very happy to host a wedding at a “tourist trap” or a tourist anything, for that matter. She would have settled for hosting it anywhere that held even the bare modicum of amenities. But this place—this Twilight Ranch—they seemed to pride themselves on “rustic and natural” as if that was a good thing.

“Where are you headed?” There was that voice again. She didn’t want to turn back, but there was rude and then there was rude. And while she was fine being standoffish to men who came on too strong, this man had been nothing but courteous, albeit irritating with his smirks and his ma’ams.

There was no pretending he was talking to anyone else. The plane was small and the few other passengers on board were either inexplicably sleeping through these gale force winds or listening to something on earphones.

She drew in a deep breath before turning back around. Why hadn’t she thought to bring her earbuds? Then she could at least ignore the hottie without being outright rude.

“Pardon?” She pressed her lips together in annoyance at his open assessment. She watched his gaze roam slowly over her blonde, shoulder-length curls, to the collared white shirt she wore with her navy pants. His gaze moved unhurriedly down all the way to her red stiletto heels.

His eyes filled with amusement at the sight of them and she narrowed her gaze in response. She was ready for whatever stupid quip he’d make at her choice of footwear. She’d bet a million bucks she’d heard it already from every man between here and Denver, where she’d had her first of two layovers.

Were the heels practical? No. But did footwear necessarily have to be practical in order to complete its task of encasing her foot? No ma’am.

“You might want to change out those shoes before you get to Snowbank,” he said. Snowbank was the closest airport to Lulu, which wasn’t saying much. It was still a long drive once she got in. She waited for him to say something else about the heels, but he shut his mouth, seemingly content to give her a knowing smile.

Okay fine, maybe it wasn’t the condescending teasing she’d been prepared for, but it was the unsolicited advice she should have known was coming.

She gave him a tight smile. “Why? Doesn’t this state believe in paved sidewalks? Will I be forced to hike down the mountain to find a cab?”

His eyes flashed with humor that was very clearly at her expense.

Oh lovely. She lived to amuse sexy cowboys with a superiority complex.

“No, ma’am. But the temperature drops pretty low after dark in these parts and I’d hate to see those pretty toes of yours freeze.”

She scowled at the stranger, mainly because she was annoyed with herself. Why on earth had she felt a jolt of pleasure because he’d called her toes pretty? Yes, he was handsome, but pretty toes? Really? At what point had she regressed so far that talk of pretty toes made her nervous like a schoolgirl?

She was still chastising herself for her silly response when he spoke again. “Where are you headed?”

“Snowbank airport.” She didn’t try to hide the unspoken “duh” after she repeated the airport name.

His mouth twitched again and she found herself staring at those firm, well-shaped lips like they were the most fascinating things she’d ever seen.

And they kind of were. At least, they were the most fascinating manly body parts she’d seen in longer than she cared to admit. She’d been starting to think there was something wrong with her. Lately it seemed like she’d become immune to all men and their charms. After leaving New York and her old life behind, it was like a switch had flipped. She’d tried going on dates, she’d tried responding to flirting from men she met while out with friends. But it all felt forced. It was all skin deep. None of it went beyond surface level charm. Mentally she’d been able to admire a man’s qualities—physical and otherwise—but she hadn’t felt attracted.

Not until now.

Maybe because it had been so long, it took her whole body by storm. This attraction came unexpectedly and overwhelmed her, throwing her off balance. Her reaction to this man wasn’t entirely unlike her response to the turbulence, come to think of it. Both were unwanted and shook her to her core.

He leaned forward and she caught a whiff of leather and aftershave. It was a heady combination, one that made her think of fireplaces and rainy nights and black-and-white movies.

“I meant, where are you headed to from there?” he asked. “Because taxi companies are few and far between in these parts. It could take a while to get a ride, unless—”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” She needed to shut this down before it could go any further. Was it kind of nice to have the attention of a handsome man? Sure, it wasn’t bad for her ego. But it couldn’t go anywhere and now when her career was on the line was not the time to get distracted by deep voices and startlingly intense brown eyes.

No, sir. No, thanks. This ended now.

“I’m heading toward Lulu if you decide you need—”

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated, this time with a smile that shut down whatever notions he’d gotten into his head about saving the little lady in distress, or whatever else it was that cowboys fantasized about when they saw her. She gave him the icy, formal smile she’d perfected back at St. Andrews. The one that said, I’m nice, I’m polite, but don’t even think of messing with me, mister.

He smiled—a real, genuine grin, and not just that little twitch of his lips or the smirk she’d started to get used to. Granted, his eyes were still filled with laughter that she was certain was at her expense. But it was hard to be too upset about it when that smile was melting her bones and turning her whole body to liquid.

He could laugh at her all he wanted if he never stopped smiling. It wasn’t just the curve of his lips, it was the way it transformed those ruggedly handsome looks into something charming and almost boyish. It made his eyes crinkle up in the corners and little creases form around his mouth.

No dimples—this guy was way too manly for dimples. But he had the kind of eye-squinting sex appeal of an old movie star like Paul Newman or Clint Eastwood. His gaze was so warm, even when it was mocking, that it was hard not to smile back and soon enough she realized she was doing just that. She found her icy smile melting into something genuine, even as her eyes narrowed and her brows pulled together in confusion.

“If you change your mind…” He let the words hang in the air between them and she found herself waiting anxiously for him to continue. If she changed her mind…what? For a second she thought he might give her his number, or maybe outright ask her out on a date.

She shouldn’t be so excited at that thought. And she certainly shouldn’t be gazing at him like some love-struck young girl.

She tried to pull herself together. What on earth was he doing to her? She got her answer a moment later as a jerk of the plane brought her back to her senses.

She gasped in surprise as she realized that this wasn’t just another jolt of turbulence, it was the impact of wheels meeting the tarmac.

They’d landed.

Holy smokes, they’d made it! Relief washed over her as she sank back into her seat with a breathless laugh.

To think, she’d been so scared, but she hadn’t even known they’d been going in for their final descent because…because…a suspicion formed and it was an answer to the question she’d asked herself before her train of thought had been jarred back to the present.

What was he doing to her?

He’d been distracting her.

Something in her brain clicked. She knew it was right even without having to look in his direction. It all seemed clear now—why he’d been so amused, why he’d been so persistent. Why he’d repeated ma’am even when it had clearly irritated her.

He’d been saving her.

She sucked in a sharp inhale as anger swept through her at her unintentional role as the damsel in distress.

Oh no. Not her. She sure as heck wasn’t going to sit back and allow some stranger to think that he was some sort of hero and all because he’d tricked her into thinking he’d liked her.

Her outrage faltered as humiliation threatened to swamp her. And this was humiliating, there were no two ways about it. No wonder he’d been so amused. He’d thrown out a little charming smile, told her she had pretty toes—pretty toes?!—and she’d swooned.

Oh man. This guy was trouble. She couldn’t believe her stupidly childish reaction. After all these years of not being affected by movie stars and models, and now here she was sighing and drooling because Mr. Hottie Cowboy gave her a smile.

She refused to look back as the plane came to a halt and the other passengers stirred, coming to life as they gathered their belongings and stood to grab their bags overhead.

She would wait. There was no hurry. She had a room at the guest ranch, but she hadn’t told them when she’d be arriving. She’d wanted to give herself an out in case she’d had a change of heart and needed to spend a night at a decent motel instead.

The longer she could put off this working vacation the better. Still, she thought as she finally unbuckled her seatbelt and made to stand. She had to get this over and done with so she might as well grin and bear it.

With any luck the place would be so terrible she could send Hannah some photographic evidence of its awfulness and be on her way after one day. Maybe she could even find an earlier flight out, though she had a feeling that flights during Fourth of July weekend would be booked solid with tourists.

“Do you need a hand with those?”

There was that voice again. But this time it was coming from right behind her as she reached up for her bag in the overhead bin. The cowboy. He was towering over her even in her heels—although even in heels she was on the short side. Still, did he really have to tower like that? It seemed rude, even if he couldn’t help it.

But he could help being so darn helpful. And nice. It was embarrassing enough that she’d let him get under her skin and that she’d blatantly swooned because of one silly smile. This man was officially cut off from being the helpful hero. There was nothing she hated more and right now, this guy was worse than any others. Because he’d tricked her.

Maybe that was taking it too far. She was probably overreacting. But try telling her pride that. She’d really thought he’d been hitting on her, which had been annoying but also…not. Because she’d fallen for it and she’d felt an attraction for him, which was unsettling and rare.

And she couldn’t tell if he’d felt it too or if he’d just been distracting her while amusing himself at her expense.

She might have been wrong about the distracting thing, though she doubted it, but he had definitely been laughing at her. That she couldn’t have missed as he hadn’t even tried to hide it.

Maybe it wasn’t mature of her, but she ignored him and his helpful offer, tugging down her overnight case roughly and staggering under its weight.

Unfortunately this stagger made her back up into the man she was studiously ignoring and she felt his hands on her arms helping to steady her and her bag.

When she found her footing, she grit her teeth to keep from muttering a curse. Of course she’d fall straight into the arms of the one man she didn’t want to catch her.

Her back was pressed to his chest and that heavenly scent made her want to close her eyes and snuggle up against him. Oh mercy, she needed to come to her senses. She tried to straighten but he was reaching around her, easily taking the bag out of her hands. “Here, let me help you with that.”

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, but it was too late. He was already carrying her bag for her and all she could do was follow and try not humiliate herself any further.

Easier said than done. Approximately two minutes later she found herself the source of entertainment for everyone on the plane as she conducted a pointless and fruitless conversation with an excessively pleasant woman named Bridget.

“What do you mean there are no cabs available for the next two hours?” Katy asked.

The kind woman blinked but her smile never faltered. “They were booked solid tonight thanks to a tour group that just arrived.”

Booked solid. Something told Katy that this taxi fleet consisted of one taxi, maybe two. Booked solid could have meant they’d had one passenger. She rubbed her temple, which was pounding thanks to a burgeoning headache. “Okay, fine, do you have any rental cars?”

The entire time she spoke she was keenly and annoyingly aware that her hottie cowboy was still standing near her, apparently in no rush to be off, but rather contented to watch the out of towner deal with the kindest, most unhelpful airline employee of all time.

“Let’s see what I’ve got,” Bridget said with a broad smile. She pulled out a three-ring binder and Katy couldn’t take it anymore. She could feel the cowboy staring. She could hear him breathing. He was so darn close, she couldn’t breathe.

She whirled around on her heels. “Can I help you with something?”

That stupid grin tugged at his lips again and she couldn’t look away when he shrugged. “Just want to make sure you make it home all right.”

Home. Home? This was so not her home. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

“So you keep saying.” His voice was a low, amused drawl that set her on edge all over again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before he could answer, the friendly unhelpful counter lady was back. “Let’s see, I have one truck available.”

Katy frowned. A truck? She’d never driven anything larger than a Prius.

“It’s a stick shift, is that all right?”

She bit back a sigh. Stick shift? No, it was not all right. Who on earth drove stick these days?

“Ma’am?” That low voice behind her was mocking her. “Do you drive stick shift?”

She pressed her lips together to keep from saying something outright nasty. One one-thousand, two one-thousand… She didn’t quite make it to ten before she opened her mouth. “Of course not.”

His low, rumbly chuckle was the last straw, not just because he was clearly laughing at her but because it sent shivers racing through her. She spun around to face him again. “Seriously, can I help you?”

“No,” he drawled. “But I’m pretty sure I can help you.”

Oh the nerve of this guy. His know-it-all attitude was like nails on a chalkboard for her peace of mind. Bridget interrupted before she could say something she’d regret.

“Where are you going, hon? Maybe we can find a better solution.”

Katy noted the way Bridget was making eyes at the hottie cowboy, like they were in cahoots or something.

She mentally rolled her eyes at her own inner monologue. Cahoots? Really? She’d been out of a major metropolitan area for less than twelve hours and she was using words like cahoots? She narrowed her eyes, glancing back and forth between them. But yeah, this was cahoots if she’d ever seen it.

“If you’re heading to Lulu, then maybe Dax here can give you a lift,” she said, her brows lifting in hopeful optimism. Clearly Bridget was rooting for the hottie cowboy to be her knight in shining armor.

Dax. The cowboy’s name was Dax. Why did that sound familiar?

“I’d be happy to give you a lift,” he said. She didn’t have to glance up to know he was giving her that knowing smile. “Where exactly are you headed?”

She sighed wearily. Between the two of them she didn’t stand a chance of avoiding his helpfulness. “I’m going to Twilight Ranch. Ever heard of it?”

The cowboy looked to the helpful counter lady and they exchanged a smirk for the ages. What was going on here?

“I’ve heard of it,” he said, already reaching down to pick up her bag as if she wasn’t capable of hauling the rolling carry-on by herself. He didn’t even glance over his shoulder as he led the way out toward the exit. “I own the place.”