Pete dropped his fork on the plate and leaned back. "If I wasn't still buzzed from all that wine earlier, I'd say this was the worst Saturday ever."

After looking at the empty spot next to Pete and then at the torrential downpour battering the nearest window, Ali sighed in agreement. Even though her friend was upset because he'd just found out the local karaoke bar had closed for the evening thanks to a washed-out road, she had her own reasons for sulking.

Not only was Wylda gone, but Ali was also stuck in the same place she'd been for most of the last two weeks instead of having dinner with Hank. Seeing another flash of lightning streak across the sky before hearing the accompanying clap of thunder reminded her that the irresistible cowboy had it even worse. He was most likely somewhere in the middle of the chaos, making sure that Pebble Creek's assets—human and property alike—were safe from the storm.

She hadn't seen him since Liz called him back to work, but a few of the other ranch hands had been running in and out over the last few hours, leaving trails of mud and water dripping from their gear. Paulette had brought in a box of battery-operated lanterns the administrative staff then distributed in case of an electrical outage, while a young man she still didn't know by name asked for a first-aid kit while holding his bleeding thumb. Ali wondered if she'd see Hank at all before tomorrow, and she happily jumped at Harriet's request to take Marv on a potty run to increase her chances.

Her effort was futile. The rain was coming down in sheets, making visibility past a few feet almost impossible. The wind was also blowing the cold spray under the covered porch, and the little dog didn't appreciate being forced to do his business in such awful weather. Even after Ali had walked twice around the perimeter of the lodge with him, he refused to cooperate.

"Come on, Marv. I don't like being out here either, but I can't have you making a mess of the carpet inside," she pleaded while scratching him behind his little white ears. "Now, be a good boy and get on with it."

When he cowered behind her legs for a full five minutes, Ali knew it was time to give up. Grabbing a stack of classifieds from the lobby, she led the dog back to his owner. After setting up a thick layer of the paper in a corner of Harriet's bathroom, she returned to her own room.

The storm was relentless. Knocking out power at one point, it took the well's electrical pump with it. Without even running water, it left little for the guests to do in the dark. Early enough for most of them to still be up, many wandered out to the common areas with their emergency lanterns to keep each other company. In spite of Pete's valiant effort, Ali declined an invitation to a game of charades. There was only one person she wanted to socialize with, and he obviously wasn't going to make an appearance.

Sunday morning came and went, and although the lights were back on and the rain had subsided to a light drizzle, there was still no sign of Hank. With an hour still left until lunchtime, Ali was draped across her bed thumbing through an old fashion magazine when a knock broke the silence.

Running across the carpet in her socks, she opened the door to find a weary cowboy on the other side. With his chin against his chest and his eyes closed, he leaned against the frame and looked up only once she addressed him.

"Oh my god," Ali gasped. "Have you been up all night?" Under the damp hat and duster, he was still wearing yesterday's jeans and shirt.

"More or less." His voice was hoarse and weak from fatigue. "Can I come in?"

She clumsily stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. "Of course."

He didn't need an invitation to plop into an armchair, leaving a trail of muddy prints left behind on the cream carpet. Good luck to Liz steam-cleaning that out, Ali thought as she kneeled beside him.

"What happened?" She wiped a bit of mud from the scruff on his jaw.

Hank tipped back his hat. "Boats getting loose, trees falling on wires, rock slides, you name it. Everything that could have gone wrong during that storm did," he said.

"And you've been here the entire time?" When he nodded, she continued. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

"A few hours." He rubbed his eyes as if willing himself to stay alert. "I'm about to crash, though. I'll probably be out for the rest of the day, and I wanted to see you before I headed home since I promised I would."

Ali wanted to throw her arms around his neck at the admission, but instead, she stood up. "You're in no shape to drive." Picking up her own discarded boots from nearby, she pulled them over her leggings. "I'd offer to let you stay here, but you'll rest better in your own bed. Come, I'll drive you home."

Although she believed in her argument, getting a chance to see where he lived was an even bigger draw. That's also why she presented it as a done deal. It was a negotiating trick she'd learned years earlier, and while it wasn't foolproof in the boardroom, using it against a dead-tired cowboy was almost a guaranteed win.

"I didn't think you New Yorkers knew how to drive, " he grumbled, eyelids drooping.

"Not all of us New Yorkers are the same." She emphasized the pronoun, taking slight offense to being stereotyped. "As long as you remind me which pedal is the gas and which is the brake, I'm golden," Ali deadpanned, but when Hank began shaking his head in opposition, she broke into a laugh and held out her upturned hand. "I'm kidding! Now, hand over the keys."

The truck was still parked in the back, and they walked out separately to avoid any curious glances. After an awkward run-in with Sheridan, who for some reason pretended they were suddenly the best of friends, Ali stopped at the reception desk to sign out. She was surprised to see so many other guests had been away from the lodge the prior day, and she even had to turn to a new sheet before indicating she was leaving the site.

As she'd guessed, Hank didn't live far from Pebble Creek. Thanks to his terse but effective directions from the passenger seat, she had no problems getting to his apartment. Located right off the highway, the complex, consisting of several four-story buildings, was part of what appeared to be a fairly new development. They took the stairs one flight up, and he fiddled with the lock before pushing the door open and allowing her to go first. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd expected, but as Ali looked around at the bare white walls and empty floor space, she knew it wasn't this.

"The décor's very . . . minimalist." She struggled to pick the right word to avoid offense.

Hank didn't appear to be bothered by the observation as he lined up his dirty boots by the door. "I don't like clutter," he said as he shimmied out of his coat and hung it on a nearby hook.

"Obviously," Ali said, following his lead as she also pulled off her boots before walking into the living room. The open floor plan allowed for a small dining area by the adjacent kitchen, but apart from two stools at the breakfast counter, there was no other furniture.

"You're going to have to excuse my lack of manners as a proper host," Hank began, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked toward a closed door. "But you're welcome to either stay or take the truck back."

He slipped off the wrinkled garment and, before disappearing into the sole bedroom, gave Ali a good look at his naked back. Tan, lean, and pure muscle, it was enough to fuel a number of fantasies about how the rest compared.

"There's not much in terms of entertainment, but I do have Netflix," he continued from the other room. There was a brief pause while the sink ran before he spoke again. "It's your call."

Ali hadn't intended to stay, but the offer was tempting. And she had some unanswered questions. Why was the place so empty? Was he moving in or on his way out? "How long have you lived here?" she asked the least intrusive while still waiting outside the bedroom's entrance as she ran her finger along the spotless—and also bare—granite counter. No man she knew was ever this clean.

"Almost a year, I think," Hank said as he reappeared wearing just boxer briefs, and Ali took an inadvertent step backward.

Completely aware she was coming across like a lust-filled schoolgirl, but not able to stop herself, she ran her eyes down the full length of his body. Pecs to kill for? Check. An impossible six-pack? Check. Rock-solid thighs she could already imagine straddling with her own? Holy mother of mercy, check! Noticing she was holding her breath, Ali exhaled with a single syllable. "Wow."

Leaning with one arm against the wall, Hank weakly chuckled. "So, you're going to hang around for a bit, then?"

Ali felt her face flush. "Sure, but you need to get in bed. You're about to collapse." Either way, she knew she could slip out anytime if she changed her mind. Stepping closer, she glanced past him into the room. "You do at least own a bed, right?"

"That I do." He turned, revealing a neatly made, queen-sized sleigh bed with an elegant black-on-white damask patterned duvet, pushed against the far wall. A flat-screen TV was also mounted above a dresser, and taking a remote control off its top, Hank offered it to her. "You'll need this. Don't worry about the volume; I can sleep through anything."

He walked across the room and climbed under the covers, moving an extra pillow to the other side. Ali was puzzled by the preparations until she realized the spot was for her. By the time she had settled in and managed to turn on the television, Hank was fast asleep.

While switching for the next hour and a half between shows about novelty cake baking, shark migration patterns, and haunted farms, Ali tried to focus on anything other than the unconscious man beside her. It was nearly impossible, and she caught herself sneaking glances at the bits of him that managed to stick out from under the covers. A shoulder here, a foot there; it was both mundane and intriguing at the same time.

Although she could have watched him all day, it felt odd intruding on such a personal act as sleeping when she hardly even knew him. It was for the same reason she wouldn't look in his closet or his medicine cabinet, no matter how tempting it would have been to snoop. There was just one exception Ali would be willing to make. She'd missed lunch and held no such reservations about raiding Hank's kitchen.

She quietly looked through his cabinets first, finding nothing more than a few half-empty boxes of cereal, three cans of tuna, a jar of pickles, and brand-new-looking dishes. After pouring a glass of water, Ali turned her attention to the refrigerator. Standing in front of the open door staring dumbfounded at a case of beer, a bag of carrots, and a jar of mayonnaise, she jumped when an unexpected voice spoke up behind her. "If you find anything edible in there, can you let me know? I'm starving."