Barefoot Blue Jean Night. Debbi Rawlins

had been twice as shocking. Dan had never been on Jamie’s short list of favorite people, or long list for that matter, but she sucked up her disappointment and put on a happy face for her cousin’s sake.

      Then it was just Jamie and Linda drinking at the Crown and haggling over where to eat or what movie to see when Jamie was in town.

      And now …

      She exhaled sharply and quickly flipped open her laptop. She distracted herself by checking comments on her blog, catching up on Twitter and replying to her mother’s perfunctory bi-monthly email. About to tackle tomorrow’s blog post, she noticed the banner ad for the Sundance Dude Ranch in Blackfoot Falls, Montana.

      A dude ranch. One of her regular readers had mentioned something about a dude ranch just last week. It wasn’t this ranch, but there was something about the ad that caught Jamie’s attention.

      “Huh.”

      She clicked on the website link and immediately clear blue sky, gorgeous mountains and tall Douglas firs flooded the screen. In the foreground was a large three-story log-style house with a wraparound porch complete with a swing and rocking chairs. So peaceful and homey-looking. Kind of reminded her of her aunt and uncle’s peanut farm.

      Why hadn’t she tried a dude ranch before? It was different from anything she’d done, and she’d never been to Montana, although she’d heard it was beautiful country. Her readers would love it.

      Leaning way back in her comfy office chair, she smiled and got busy clicking. She learned that it was a working ranch owned by the McAllister family since the late 1800s, then she checked out pictures of the adjacent national forest and wilderness area and skimmed the list of activities. She already knew how to ride pretty well and she’d gone white-water rafting twice. But there were other things that caught her interest, like rodeos, guided hikes, overnight pack trips, cattle driving and …

      And them.

      She bolted upright, causing her chair to roll backward on the bamboo floor mat. Grabbing the edge of her desk, she pulled herself in, then peered closer at the rugged-looking, dark-haired cowboys sitting on great big horses. Squinting, she hoped for a better look at their faces. Which was absurd, but it didn’t stop her from trying.

      Holy crap, Cole McAllister was friggin’ hot. With his wide shoulders, long lean legs and brooding expression, the man was a wet dream. Jesse McAllister, with his Stetson pulled low, had the smoldering thing down pat. Oh, and she had brother Trace pegged in a flash, despite the lack of detail in the photograph. He was a hottie who knew it, and wasn’t in the market for taming.

      Brilliant ad, really. The bad-boys-of-the-West image against the blue sky and snowcapped mountains, so innately gorgeous in those worn jeans and Western shirts they fulfilled every single cowboy fantasy in the book. Jamie would be shocked if the dude ranch wasn’t sold out for the first six months.

      But, she was still going to try to get in. The sooner the better. Even though the ranch had been around forever, opening up for guests was a new business for the family. Tomorrow started their second week of operation.

      She clicked on the calendar, saw there were two available bookings left, and got out her credit card. Oh, boy, her readers were going to love those cowboys. Hell, she was halfway there herself.

      CALM AS COULD BE, Rachel was setting a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies on the porch table as Cole rode up to the house. What in the Sam Hill was she up to? He’d received an urgent text from her while riding the east fence and had ridden hard for nearly twenty minutes to get here.

      “Is Mom okay?” he asked, swinging off Tango and jumping to the ground.

      “What?” Rachel frowned briefly. “Oh, she’s fine.”

      A female guest chose that moment to walk out the front door, and Cole groaned to himself. He’d done everything he could, short of working twenty-four-hour days, to stay away from the place since the first group of guests had arrived twelve days ago. Eight altogether, all of them women. Jesus. The hands were barely getting their chores done.

      “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said politely, touching the brim of his hat. She gave him a flirty smile, and he turned back to his sister, not bothering to hide his irritation.

      She missed it, too busy showing all her teeth to the guest. “Hi, Kim.” Rachel gestured toward the barn. “Dutchy and the rest of the girls are waiting for you to join them on a trail ride.”

      The woman lingered a moment, and Cole could feel her gaze on him, but he’d enter the house with his dusty boots on before he gave her an opening. She finally pushed on, the impractical heels of her city boots clicking down the wooden steps.

      He knew the instant he was safe from the blonde but not from his sister.

      Rachel lost her smile and glared at him. “You have to start being nicer to these women,” she said in an angry murmur.

      “I don’t have to do anything.” He’d given in enough, even helped freshen up the porch with a coat of redwood stain, scraped up enough money to spruce up the barn and kept his mouth shut when Rachel had ordered a wagonload of flowers for the rock beds. “If I wasn’t pleasant enough for you, then don’t drag me back in the middle of the damn afternoon. What did you want, anyway?”

      “Do you know how much money we’ve taken in for deposits?”

      Yeah, it had barely covered the cost to ready the place. Grunting, he helped himself to a glass and the pitcher of lemonade.

      “No, that’s for our guests.” She snatched both out of his hands. “We have six arrivals in the next hour.”

      Cole looked up at the ceiling in disgust, noticed a spot he’d missed in his all-fired hurry for the opening day. “Lord, give me patience.”

      “You’d do well to pray a little harder.” Rachel offered him a cookie on a small, fancy pink napkin and gave him one of those sneaky smiles that said she wanted something.

      He put up his hands, backed away from her. “No.”

      “You love oatmeal raisin.”

      “No to whatever it is you’re gonna ask me.”

      She grabbed his forearm and slapped the cookie onto his palm. “Jamie Daniels is arriving any minute. She’s a very popular travel blogger and we’re damn lucky to have her. If she likes this place, business will boom. I want you here with me to greet her.”

      Cole barked out a laugh, shook his head and glanced toward the driveway. No dust coming from the road. He was still safe. Maybe even had enough time to run in for a drink of water and grab a sandwich before he lit out for the north pasture.

      “Don’t you dare.”

      “What?”

      “I know that look. You’re planning your escape.” Rachel’s lower lip jutted out in that annoying sulk. She was his baby sister and sometimes it was hard saying no to her. “I’ve put a lot of time and effort into making this dude ranch work. Can I get a little help here?”

      He stared at her, not sure if he was disappointed, surprised or just plain angry. Sighing, he removed his hat and used the back of his sleeve to wipe his forehead.

      “Oh, Cole.” Rachel briefly covered her mouth. “What a horrible thing for me to say. You’ve given your whole life to this place. No one has worked harder than you, not even Jesse, and certainly not me or Trace.”

      “Enough.” He squinted toward the midafternoon sun. “I’m going inside to wash up a bit, get something to eat. Maybe I’ll still be around when your guest arrives.”

      JAMIE HAD OBVIOUSLY made a wrong turn. Odd, because she was good with maps, but she should’ve gotten to the Sundance by now. With a surge of gratitude, she steered the rental car into the gas station that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Wow, did she have to pee. After that she’d get directions. She had to be close to the ranch but after miles and miles of nothing but blue