The good news, because there was good news, was that the sun had finally decided to rise. So when I saw an official-looking sign reading COOPER ROAD TRAIL I decided to pull off. I figured, like any sane person would, that the trail must be on the map.
The trail wasn’t on the map. I didn’t have the energy for a breakdance map assault. Instead I exited my rental car, calmly sipped on my tepid coffee, and made a plan to walk toward the campsites I’d spotted by a creek in the distance. I figured I’d wait until someone emerged from his or her tent—assuming he wasn’t carrying a rifle and wearing flannel—and then I’d accost him or her for help.
At least, this was my plan.
Not part of my plan was the very familiar-looking green pickup truck that slowly wound down the trail entrance and eventually parked next to my tiny rental car. Also not part of the plan, the perplexed smile on Ranger Jethro’s handsome face as he exited his truck and scrutinized me as I sipped my tepid coffee.
Not part of my plan, but not unwelcomed.
Keeping his eyes on me, the ranger—who I could no longer call adorable or simply a hot guy now that I knew way too much about his past—tipped his hat much as he’d done before. And much as he’d done before, he said, “Miss, do you require assistance?”
Unexpected warmth spread from my belly to my fingertips at the sound of his voice in the early morning, rough and unused. Deeper. Manly. Despite the unanticipated belly flips, I was able to quip, “Aw, I bet you say that to all the lost ladies.”
This earned me a wider smile. “As a matter of fact, no. I don’t make a habit of coming upon lost ladies all that often. But when I do, they all have irresistible dimples and they all seem to be you.”
I returned his smile, unable to help myself. Man, he was a great flirt. Like really, really great. He was able to slip in a compliment and make it sound like a fact. As well, his creepiness and cheesiness factor was a big fat zero. He made my heart beat faster, and yet he seemed entirely relaxed and unaffected.
I recognized it as confidence. And not the douche kind either. The sincere, well-deserved kind.
I let my dimples show and indulged in my desire to look at his lips, because he had nice ones. But I didn’t look too long, because he also had nice eyes. “So, you’re a strictly monogamous rescuer?”
He shifted on his feet, gathering a deep breath and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “More like I’ve been in a rescuing dry spell for several years.”
“Not many damsels then? In these parts?”
He smirked but endeavored to keep his expression even. “Plenty of damsels. Just none that I’d like to rescue near as much as you.”
This made me laugh, and I saw his eyes fall to my mouth. He blinked and gave into his grin. He’d complimented my smile and laugh last time I’d seen him, so I decided I ought to return the favor.
“You have a great smile, Ranger.”
“Call me Jethro.”
“What’s wrong with Ranger?”
“Ranger isn’t my name, Sarah.”
That gave me a start, a twinge of something unpleasant like guilt, because Sarah wasn’t my name, and yet I continued to encourage his ignorance. He didn’t recognize me as a celebrity, of that I was certain, but would he recognize my name?
I hoped not.
Before I could correct him and give him my real name, he stepped forward, reaching for my mug and removing it from my hands with a gentle kind of self-assurance. He placed it on the roof of my car. I had to lift my chin to keep looking in his eyes, which held me completely captivated. They were gold and green, not brown like I’d expected.
Now he was standing close, but not too close. Just, a really good distance—non-threatening but within my reach—like an invitation.
With a truly exceptional grin, one that made my knees feel a bit weak, he dropped his voice so I’d have to lean closer to hear him. “And you’ve got such a beautiful voice. Seems a shame to waste it on Ranger when you could be saying Jethro instead.”
I blinked, startled, because—Oh. My. Dear. Lord.—I do believe my stomach just did a somersault.
Could he be any sexier? And why, apart from the obvious, was he so sexy?
“Jethro, I hope you don’t mind my saying so—”
“Say whatever you’d like, Sarah,” his voice was a rumble, “just as long as you keep using my name.”
Oh, gah! Another tummy cartwheel. And now I really wanted to touch him. What voodoo was this?
It took a great deal of concentration, but I continued as though he hadn’t interrupted. “And please accept this as a compliment, because I mean it with all sincerity, but you are the most gifted flirt I’ve ever met.”