MIA.As embarrassing as it was, I'd spent the entirety of Saturday confined to my bedroom, suffering from what I could only describe as a rather vicious stomach bug.Although, in retrospect, I suspected my stomach was simply protesting the culinary adventure I'd subjected it to the previous evening.And honestly, could I blame it?For years, it had been accustomed to caviar, delicately prepared entrées, and exquisite meals crafted by five-star chefs.Barbecue ribs, baked beans, roasted red potatoes, and an assortment of homemade casseroles were hardly part of its usual repertoire.Apparently, I'd neglected to prepare my digestive system for the pleasures of country living.And now it was staging a full-scale rebellion."Do you need another bottle of Pepto-Bismol?"I slowly turned my head toward the doorway.Sawyer Montgomery stood there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and the most infuriatingly amused expression on his handsome face.I narrowed my eyes."Why do I have
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