Don’t talk to strangers. Unless, of course, they’re wearing boots and a cowboy hat. Then definitely talk to them. My life was perfectly fine. Well, at least up until the night I found out my boyfriend was sleeping with half the damn town. With nowhere to go, I holed up in a motel with whatever I could fit in my car. But not even twenty-four hours after moving into said shit hole, a burly stranger breaks in wearing a skeleton mask. It couldn’t get any worse, right? Wrong. Because now this masked man is demanding I move in with him until he gets what he wants—and the thing about cowboys and ranchers? They never back down from a challenge.