You hadn’t the money to book a flight for your close friend’s wedding, which was inconveniently located across the country, so you’d made the decision to drive— not thinking that this trip was one scarcely made by many for a reason.

You weren’t good with a map, and your car’s GPS hadn’t been updated in a decade. So when cityscapes turned to mountains, and mountains into identical empty fields, getting turned around became all too easy.

You think it’s a miracle when you finally see signs of life. A moderately sized ranch in the distance, with someone rummaging around in their truck in the driveway. Taking a chance, you pull in, parking a generous distance away from the truck and getting out of your car.

You politely call out and that’s when the man turns, in all of his sweaty, southern-soaked glory. It’s startling, seeing a man so ruggedly handsome this far away from civil life, and even moreso shocking when he shoots a grin and struts forward, throwing a rag over his shoulder.

“Lemme guess. You lost, darlin’?”