Page 6 of Falling Hard for the Billionaire Cowboy

When I reach the porch, I am surprised to find it dark. My mom always turns the porch lights on by the time it’s seven, and there are also no sounds of life coming from inside. I fish my phone out of my pocket. The network bars have finallyreappeared, but when I try calling my parents, there is no answer even after the fourth ring.

I frown, my mind is racing. Have they gone out of town? I'd reached out to them this morning before leaving, but when I hadn't heard back, I'd assumed they were busy with ranch work. Now, with the same thing happening again, I can't help but wonder if something is wrong.

I'm thankful that, unlike the other things I had left behind, I did have my old spare key. As I stare at the lock, I allow myself a small smile, grateful that my parents haven't changed it in the years I'd been gone. I set my suitcase down and insert the key, but as I am about to turn it, I freeze.

Grrrr.

Is that... growling?

I hold my breath, listening intently. After a few seconds of silence, I shake my head. It has to be my imagination. My mom is allergic to dogs, so we'd never had one in the house. There is no way I'd heard that.

"I can't wait to sleep," I mumble, pushing the door open.

The moment I step inside, I come face to face with a man.

No, I mean… a real, freaking man???

I am completely stunned for two very important reasons:

One: It isn't my dad.

Two: It’s the handsome man – I mean, the jerk – from the road earlier. I’m sure of it.

We both stand there, frozen in shock, staring at each other. The light from inside the house illuminates his features, and I can see him even more clearly. It’s definitely him, those silvery gray eyes are unmistakable. I feel a confusing mix of emotions – exhaustion and annoyance at finding this stranger in my home. But there's also an unwelcome flutter in my stomach at how handsome he looks up close.

My gaze drifts past him to the two large dogs sitting obediently at his heels, and then the fog of exhaustion lifts from my brain. Alarm bells begin to ring, loud and clear.

I take a step back, placing my suitcase between us as a makeshift barrier. "Who are you?" I demand, my voice shakier than I would have liked. "And what are you doing in my house?"

The man's brow furrows in confusion. "Your house? No, you've got that backwards, lady. This is my house. What are you doing here?"

"Don't call me lady," I snap. "And you're trespassing. Where are my parents? What have you done with them?"

He holds up his hands, a mix of bewilderment and amusement playing across his stupidly handsome face. "Whoa there, slow down. I haven't done anything to anyone. I live here…"

I cut him off, my patience was wearing thin. "Listen here, cowboy. This is my family's ranch. It has been for generations. And no jerks live here – especially not jerks who leave people stranded on the side of the road."

I can see his expression change, which is enough proof for me.

"Wait a minute, I didn't leave you stranded. Didn't another truck come looking for you?"

"Oh, so now you remember," I say sarcastically. "Yes, ANOTHER CAR, a kind soul who didn't look at someone in the eye and leave them stranded. What are you, some kind of squatter? Or worse?" Then a terrible thought occurs to me. "Oh no, you're not... you haven't kidnapped my parents, have you?"

The man actually has the audacity to chuckle. "Kidnapped? Lady- sorry, miss, there's been a huge misunderstanding here."

"You think?" I shoot back. "Because from where I'm standing, there's a stranger in my house with two very large dogs, and my parents are nowhere. So yeah, I'd say there's been a misunderstanding."

I grip my suitcase tighter, trying to look braver than I feel. "I should warn you, I've got a gun in here," I lie, patting the suitcase. "And I'm not afraid to use it."

The man's amused expression fades, replaced by concern. "Okay, let's all calm down here. There's no need for weapons. I promise you; I'm not a kidnapper or a squatter. My name is Austin. I bought this ranch several years ago from the Millers."

I blink, momentarily thrown off balance. "The Millers? But... that's my family. My parents would never sell the ranch. This has to be some kind of scam."

Austin—if that is even his real name—sighs and runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "Look, I understand this must be confusing, but I swear I'm telling the truth. Your parents – the Millers, right? – they sold the ranch to me. Said they were looking to retire and do some traveling."

I shake my head. "No, that's impossible. They would have told me. I just talked to them..." I trail off, suddenly realizing I can't remember the last time I'd actually spoken to my parents at length.Has it really been that long? Or did they tell me, and I've forgotten?

"When?" he presses. "When was the last time you spoke to them?"

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