Rebecca swore under her breath. How hard is it to put a piece of luggage on the corresponding flight? Isn’t that what all those obnoxious paper tags are for? She waited for the carousel to make one more round and tried to convince herself she wasn’t stalling. She glanced again at the full-color glossy brochure for Fantasy Ranch gripped in her hand. She was out of her mind alright. And she was definitely stalling.
Maybe Melinda was right about the cowboys, and the ones on the website were just models used for advertising the place. The real ones probably had scraggly beards, three front teeth and hands so callused they’d tear a girl’s skin to pieces.
“Where are you going?”
She didn’t have to look up. The pointed toes of his boots and faded denim that traveled up from there gave the speaker away. A cowboy.
“Crazy apparently,” Rebecca said without making eye contact, focusing again on the brochure. What in the hell had she been thinking spending a small fortune for such a load of crap? She was on her way to the nuthouse alright, and getting there fast.
“I’m headed there myself,” Cowboy said in an obvious attempt at a joke. “I’ll give you a ride.”
He sounded friendly enough, but she didn’t feel like being hit on. She glanced up to tell him so, but was too blindsided to remember what smart-alecky comeback she’d planned to use. Melinda had been right about one thing. If she had to go crazy, he’d definitely be the one to go with.
“Are you Rebecca?” His dark blond hair hung to his chin in silky strands that begged to have fingers dragged through them, and his eyes could melt a girl.
A flush crept over her. No false advertising there. He was even more gorgeous in person. Her stomach did a somersault. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t go through with this. He was hot enough to sway a nun, and he was just the driver. How in the hell was she going to keep her horny hands to herself for a week? Or more to the point, how would she keep them off herself.
The cowboy held her stare and a slow easy smile spread across his face. Her head defogged enough to remember he’d asked her if she was Rebecca, and she hadn’t had the whereabouts to answer him. He spoke before she could twist her tongue around an answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’m Gavin. Let me get this,” he said, reaching for her carry-on and easily hoisting the bag over his shoulder. “You don’t travel this light do you?”
“Gavin?” she managed. “Gavin Carter?”
“You did your homework,” he said with a smile. “I did too. Rebecca Ryder, thirty-two, biotech consultant from South Carolina.”
He summed her up like a bio off a dating site and his appearance was enough to shake her to the core, broad athletic shoulders v-ing down to narrow hips, long muscular legs and a rugged beauty that took her breath away. She forced air into her lungs. No man was going to take her breath away. That’s not what she had flown across the country for.