Page 38 of Choosing the Montana Cowboy

“Growing up out here, away from town, we don’t have urban light pollution. On a clear night, the sky is full of stars. I used to lay in my parents’ old hammock and imagine what it was like up there. Wanted to see it for myself someday.”

Natalie tried picturing a young Sam, impressionable and full of wonder. She’d bet he was adorable, even back then. “What made you change your mind?”

“School.” He smirked. “I hated it. When I looked up the requirements to get into NASA, well, that was that for my astronaut aspiration.” He drew back his line and cast again. “By the end of high school, I’d gotten pretty good at roping. Thought that seemed like a better option. Plus, there weren’t buckle bunnies up in space.”

“Buckle bunnies?”

Sam threw her a cocky smile. “Girls who chase the rodeo stars.”

“Ohhh. Did a bunny catch your eye, Sam Miles?” she teased.

“Maybe. Luckily, she had her sights set on a champ with much deeper pockets. That broken heart helped me get my head on straight, made me see I had everything I needed right here. Plus, Gramps was needing to retire and Dad needed help running the ranch.”

Natalie studied his profile. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Nah. The Flying J is where I was born, and the five generations of Miles men before me. My plan is to die here, too.” He caught her staring and winked. “Hopefully, not for a long time yet.”

Natalie reeled in her line, checked her lure, and cast out again. Five generations raised on the same piece of land? Six if you included Sam and his brother? It was hard to imagine, coming from the Midwest suburbs. Heck, her parents had moved three times while she was growing up. But then, her family’s careers weren’t tied to their land like Sam’s was.

And here was her company, about to drop a swanky resort on his doorstep and disrupt all that history. It was no wonder she’d caused him so much frustration at the start. She silently questioned how he could stand to sit here, knowing that if they couldn’t find these ferrets, there was a good chance Terakion would succeed with their development request.

“What about you?”

Natalie bobbled her fishing pole. “Sorry?”

“Did you always want to be a, uh, company spokesperson?”

It was Natalie’s turn to laugh, though this time she tried to keep it at a reasonable decibel. “No. I wanted to be a cartoonist.”

“Wha—really?”

She nodded, her cheeks warming the way they always did when admitting to her childhood dream. “Yep, I was going to be the next Jim Davis. Or Charles Shultz. Only, it turns out, you need to be good at both coming up with funny content and drawing. The content I could do. The drawing? Not so much.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t be that bad.”

“I didn’t think so either. But I tried pitching some ideas after high school, and all I got were polite rejection letters. So I pivoted. Changed majors my sophomore year of college and started studying marketing and advertising, where I could put my ideas to good use and let someone else do the design work.Ope, I had a nibble.”

At least, she thought she had. Natalie reeled in her line one click. Two clicks…

The line went taut.

“Got one,” she whispered.

“Good job. Reel him in nice and slow, now. Nice and—huh, looks like I’ve got one, too.”

Just like that, they went from no fish to fish practically jumping in the boat. Not the tiny ones she was used to, either. These trout were gorgeous, some nearly as long as her arm. And since trout didn’t seem nearly as gun-shy as the fish back east, the laughter spilling from the boat didn’t scare them away any.

“How many are we up to?” Sam asked when their fish basket was starting to look crowded.

“I think that makes a dozen. Enough for dinner?”

He secured his hook and set its pole down. “More than enough. But if you want to go ahead and try your luck one more time today, be my guest.”

“Well, maybe just one—” What sounded like a massive belly flop drew her attention away from her lure. “What was that?”

“Beaver. We must be getting near their…” He cursed. “Natalie, reel your line in. I’m gonna need some help paddling.”

“Paddling?” She cranked the spinner, panic creeping up her spine. “Will they attack us?”

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