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The lobby had been even better, styled like a big, airy sort of mountain lodge, but with fewer antlers and Pendleton blankets than she’d expect in that kind of place. The lighthouse lobby seemed like a very comfortable living area with room for everyone. There were several separate seating areas, a huge fireplace set into one wall, and shelves stacked with books and games.

Her room was like a cozy little crow’s nest tucked away up here, high above the adorable little valley she’d driven into and had actually stopped in, by the side of the road near a library, because she needed to take a few breaths once she realized she wasn’t going to die on the side of that mountain. Not tonight.

Ruthie went over and sat on the bed that was shaped like a half circle and poked out of the wall done up in bright reds and cozy flannel blankets. It was adorable too.

Lisle Lighthouse Inn was even better than anticipated. But she still didn’t know why she was here.

She leaned over and dug into her carry-on bag, pulling out the postcard that she’d gotten at some point over the summer. It was all a blur now. She hadn’t collected the mail for a long while and she’d been going through it slowly—bills first, bulk mail into the bin, and anything she couldn’t categorize off to the side until she had the bandwidth to handle it. It had been the strangest six months of her life. Maybe that was why when she’d finally found the postcard, just a few weeks ago while she’d been clearing out of Grandma’s house, she’d been captivated.

Or maybe what she’d been captivated by was another reference to Cowboy Point.

Ruthie had never heard of Cowboy Point, Montana. Not until recently and now it was as if the whole world was conspiring against her to make sure she’d not only heard of it, but needed to come and visit, immediately.

Though she did understand that it was possible she was fixating on it, because everything had been weird since her grandmother died. Maybe an idyllic little town tucked away in the Montana mountains seemed like the perfect place to go and think about what came next because she didn’t know the answer to that question.

Because all Ruthie Mathis had going for her was the contents of her trusty RAV4, the clothes she’d brought with her in her duffel bag plus the things she’d stuffed into her little suitcase, and three boxes of personal effects. Two of those boxes were filled with her things, like yearbooks and her old journals from seventh grade, and the few keepsakes she’d held onto from her grandmother. The third was what she liked to call the mystery box. Not because she didn’t know what was in it, but because she couldn’t make heads nor tails of the things that actually were in it.

Everything else, she’d left in Georgia. She’d given it over to her cousins, who had descended upon her in the hospital and had seemed eager to help in her time of need. Possibly too eager, but Ruthie had been grateful for the help in sorting through what remained of Grandma’s life. Even if it came with all that fighting, drinking, carousing, and troublemaking that really didn’t seem like the Mathis standard that Ruthie knew her grandmother had always held herself to.

Ruthie hadn’t seen any need to wade into their mess, and she’d been only too happy to sign over that big old house that neither she nor Grandma had been able to keep up with. She’d taken possession of her grandmother’s ashes and the few effects that the dear old woman had held dear. She’d let her hard-eyed aunts and bitter-faced cousins divvy up the rest. She’d let them make it unpleasant to live in that house because they all moved in, and she’d let them insinuate that she’d been taking advantage of the old lady that they certainly hadn’t bothered to visit, as far as Ruthie could recall.

She didn’t mind, because without Grandma, she had no intention of ever returning to Columbus. Or Georgia. Or possibly the entire South.

The postcard with a whimsical lighthouse stuck on a mountain seemed like a light in her wilderness. Ruthie didn’t feel like she’d run away from the place she’d grown up so much as run to a place that looked like exactly the kind of fairy tale she’d like to live in, thank you very much.

But what she hadn’t expected was to stumble over a man like Dallas Lisle, owner of this magical lighthouse, the moment she arrived in Montana.

For one thing, she was pretty sure he hated her on sight.

And maybe that wouldn’t have bothered her so much, given what had passed for family gatherings in these last few months. She was used to standoffishness and unnecessary attitude.

What she was not used to was being around anyone who looked like Dallas.

Ruthie couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at a man and felt much of anything. She couldn’t remember looking at anyone, actually. Maybe ever.

But all she’d done was step into this hotel lobby and she’d about fallen over.

It was like he was magic too.

Dallas Lisle looked the way she imagined a man should look. Like if her imagination were to pull together the perfect man, it would be him.

Yes, something in her had shouted, deep and loud, the moment she’d stepped inside. Him.

He was tall. He was powerfully, outrageously well-built—like he’d been meant to occupy a statue garden somewhere that catered exclusively to Greek gods, but happened to have gotten lost in Montana instead. There was a sculpted muscle situation that was painfully evident, even in the long-sleeve T-shirt he wore. His hair was dark, which only called attention to his eyes that were the most beautiful shade of blue she’d ever seen.

He was beautiful—and he’d stared at her as if she was an apparition.

Then he’d scowled.

And maybe it was time to ask herself why it was that him doing that had not made her turn around and slide back down the hill she’d driven up. Oh no. It made her shivery.

Ruthie couldn’t answer that. She didn’t know why she still felt shivery, still felt that yes inside her, and was fairly certain that her toes were curling in her boots, just thinking about him. She was definitely flushed. Her pulse was throwing a fit.

“You need to get ahold of yourself,” she muttered out loud, and laughed at herself.

Not that laughing at herself changed anything that was happening in her body, which hadn’t felt much of anything in months except those headaches she got now. Dallas Lisle was the first truly physical experience she’d had in as long as she could remember.

He was literally breathtaking.