Chapter Two

      Drat!

      Sierra had the worst luck—go figure Beau Adams would end up rescuing her from her own stupidity.

      Beau had set his sights on her early this spring when he’d begun eating at the diner on a regular basis. She found the handsome bull rider’s attention flattering and would have jumped at the chance to date him, but circumstances beyond her control had forced her to keep him at arm’s length.

      “Engine trouble?” Beau’s gaze drifted to her lips. The man had the most annoying habit of watching her mouth when they engaged in conversation.

      “I’m not sure what the problem is,” she said, ignoring her rising body temperature. There wasn’t a thing wrong with her RAV4, except for the dent in the rear fender from a run-in with a minivan in the parking lot of the diner.

      Sierra’s sight had left her marooned on the side of the road.

      He swept his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his hair. Beau’s brown locks always looked in need of a trim, but it was his dark brown eyes and chiseled jaw that made her heart pound a little faster.

      “I bet I can figure out what’s wrong,” he said.

      Typical cowboy—believing he could repair anything and everything. Too bad Beau couldn’t fix her eyes.

      “How long have you been sitting here?”

      Hours. “A short while.” No way was she confessing that she couldn’t see well enough to drive at night.

      If not for a freeway wreck on the outskirts of Billings, she would have made it home, but ten miles from town dusk had turned to darkness. With few vehicles traveling the road, Sierra had decreased her speed and continued driving, but her confidence had been shattered when she’d crossed the center line and almost collided with another car. The near miss scared years off her life and she’d pulled onto the shoulder, resigned to wait until daybreak to drive into Roundup.

      She’d phoned her aunt, who’d been visiting her since July, and had informed her that she planned to spend the night with a friend. Silence had followed Sierra’s announcement. Everyone in town was aware of Beau’s frequent visits to the diner and Jordan probably wondered if Sierra’s friend happened to be Beau.

      She appreciated that her aunt hadn’t pried—after all, Sierra was thirty-one, old enough to have a sleepover with a man. In truth, she’d love to get to know Beau better, but life wasn’t fair. Too bad he’d happened along tonight. She’d been certain she’d get out of this mess without anyone the wiser.

      “Pop the hood,” he said.

      “There’s no need. I called Davidson Towing. Stan is out on another call but should be here in a little while.” Maybe if she distracted Beau, he’d forget about checking the engine. “Returning from a rodeo?”

      “Yep. Hauled a couple of Thunder Ranch bulls down to Rock Springs, Wyoming.”

      “Did you compete?”

      He rested an arm along the top of the car. “Sure did, and I won.” His cocky grin warmed her better than her down parka.

      “Congratulations.” The diner’s patrons kept Sierra up to date on their hometown cowboys’ accomplishments. Since she’d moved to Roundup five years ago, most of the gossip about the Adams twins focused on Duke’s rodeo successes. Lately, Beau was getting his turn in the spotlight.

      “Wanna see my buckle?”

      She swallowed a laugh. “Sure.” He removed the piece of silver from his coat pocket and passed it through the open window. “It’s beautiful.”

      “There’s no need for you to freeze. Stan’ll tow your car to his garage and square the bill with you in the morning.” Beau reached for the door handle.

      “No!” Sierra cringed. She hadn’t meant to shout. For a girl who’d lived most of her life in Chicago, small towns were both a blessing and a curse. She handed Beau the buckle. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d prefer to wait with my car.”

      Instead of backing away he poked his head through the window, his hair brushing the side of her face. A whiff of faded cologne—sandalwood and musk—swirled beneath her nose. “Just checking to make sure there’s no serial killer in the backseat holding you hostage.”

      Oh, brother.

      “If you’re determined to wait for Stan, then sit in my truck. I’ve got the heat going and I’ll share the coffee I bought at the rest stop.”

      “Thanks, but you should get your bulls back to the ranch.” C’mon, Beau. Give up and go home.

      “I don’t like the idea of you waiting out here all alone.”

      “This is Roundup, Montana. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

      “You’re forgetting the break-ins this past summer. This area is no Mayberry, U.S.A.”

      Sierra regretted her flippant remark. Although Roundup had been and would continue to be a safe place to live and raise a family, a rash of thefts in the ranching community had put people on edge for a while. Even Beau had been victimized when one of his custom-made saddles had been stolen and sold at a truck stop miles away.

      “I’ll be fine. Besides, your cousin caught those thieves.” She switched on the interior light and pointed to her winter coat. “And I’m plenty warm.” A flat tire during her first winter in Big Sky country had taught Sierra to keep a heavy jacket in her vehicle year-round. Unlike Chicago, car trouble in rural Montana could mean waiting an entire day for help to arrive and the state’s weather was anything but predictable—sixty degrees one hour, a blizzard the next.

      “How long did you say you’ve been waiting for Stan?”

      “Twenty minutes maybe.” When had she become such an accomplished liar?

      Beau walked to the front of the car and placed his hand on the hood.

      Busted. She’d been parked for over three hours—surely the engine was stone cold. “Thanks again for stopping to check on me,”