Just friends. That's all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been. Sure, he's a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take over his family's ranch. Yes, I've had a secret crush on him since we were seventeen. And who wouldn't appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest, and the way he fills out a pair of Levis? He makes a girl sweat just looking at him . . . and I look. A...