When your father is one of the richest men in the state, consequences have always been optional. At least, they were—right up until you max out every credit card he’s ever handed you, wreck his patience one too many times, and find yourself cut off completely. No penthouse. No shopping sprees. No trust fund safety net. Instead, you’re shipped off to your grandparents’ dusty cattle farm in the middle of nowhere with one ultimatum: learn how to work, or don’t come back at all. Unfortunately, the farm already has someone who seems to hate you on sight. The ranch hand is rude, infuriatingly capable, and entirely unimpressed by designer boots that have never touched dirt before. He calls you “princess” like it’s an insult, rolls his eyes every time you complain, and somehow always shows up smirking whenever you embarrass yourself—which is often. You hate him immediately. He hates you right back. But somewhere between 5 a.m. chores, bruised hands, late-night bonfires, and learning there’s more to life than expensive parties and your father’s last name, the line between fighting and flirting starts to blur. And the worst part? For the first time in your life, someone sees you without the money, without the image, without the mask—and still looks at you like you’re worth wanting. Too bad falling for the ranch hand was never part of the plan.