Elizabeth Pickard’s life is crumbling around her. Her fiance is caught having an affair, her estranged father dies. Then she’s hit with another surprise – her father left her a very large bequest, with the stipulation that she run his horse ranch successfully for a year. Her task is complicated by the mysterious cowboy who is the ranch foreman. Is he a help or a hindrance? Will Elizabeth be able to save the Domino Ranch from an uncertain future?
Beth peered nervously through the driving sheets of rain, slowing down even more. The windshield wipers swished, but weren’t keeping up with the torrent. She flipped the switch to high and the wipers flip-flipped frantically, but she still couldn’t see any better. The crackle of the radio irritated her already jangled nerves. She frowned and glanced down just for a second to flip the radio off, but when she looked up there was a flash of brown and white fur in her headlights. She swerved, and slammed her right foot down on the brakes. The car skidded wildly on the wet blacktop. She spun the steering wheel, desperately trying to correct the skid. The car skidded right, then left, then plowed through the ditch. Her head snapped forward, striking the steering wheel. The seatbelt cut painfully into her stomach and chest.
It was all over in a split-second. She slumped in her seat, her breath ragged and painful. She blinked slowly. The windshield wipers still flip-flopped, and the rain thumped angrily against the roof of her Camry. She took a couple of deep breaths, and ran through a mental inventory of her limbs. Everything seemed to be attached and was still working. Gingerly, she touched her forehead and was glad the gash seemed to be small, and not bleeding badly. Her car was still running. That was good. No airbag. That was bad. She glanced back at the road. No Bambi corpse. That was good. She carefully put the gearshift in reverse and pressed gently on the gas. The wheels spun in the mud and grass, but there was no traction. That was bad. And things were starting to tilt, and the darkness seemed to be closing in. That was really bad . . .
Headlights swept over her car and she looked over her shoulder just in time to see a jacked-up truck pull over on the shoulder behind her. She wondered for a moment if this was good or bad. Good if he was the hero-type. Bad if he was the ax murderer type. The way her luck was running, it could go either way. She felt herself start to drift off.
The knock on her window startled her. For a moment there, she had thought she was dreaming. She looked out and saw the perfect man. She was sure she had seen him in a cigarette ad once upon a time. But then again, she vaguely seemed to remember that he had died.
“Ma’am! Ma’am! Are you okay?” The cowboy shouted over a clap of thunder.
She nodded slowly, admiring his strong, angular face and dark, brooding eyes. She sighed when she realized he was wearing a black cowboy hat, and a leather duster. Perfect. The door swung open and suddenly the cowboy was only inches away. She smiled in what she hoped was seductive way, and brushed a stray tendril of hair out of her face.
“Hi.” Her voice sounded hollow.
“Hi, yourself. Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice was deep and warm, a nice contrast to the cold, blowing rain. Frown lines creased his tanned forehead. She didn’t know cowboys were still around, rescuing damsels in distress. A giggle escaped at the thought that she was a damsel in distress.
“I had an accident,” she answered.
“I see that. What happened?” the cowboy asked.
His eyes were roaming over her. Maybe checking her out, maybe looking for blood. She shrugged.
“An animal ran in front of me and I swerved. I guess I’m in a ditch. My car’s stuck.” Beth smiled and took a shaky breath. He didn’t smell at all like cigarettes. He smelled good. It sort of reminded her of fresh grass.
“Don’t you know you should never swerve to miss an animal? It’s dangerous.” He reached in and took her gently by the arm, to help her out of the car. She thought that being so close to him was pretty dangerous, too. Her experience with men was limited to city types, mostly accountants and lawyers. No cowboys that she could recall.
He helped her up to his truck, both of them slipping and sliding up the rain-slicked grass, the rain relentless in its pursuit of them, and put her in on the passenger side. She watched as he slipped back down the bank and walked around her car, leaning down a couple of times to take a closer look at the damage. It was hard to see his ass because of the long duster, but she was pretty sure it was nice. The water pouring down the glass distorted everything, and it all seemed like a dream. She sighed and let her head fall back against the rough cloth of the seat. Her head was starting to throb, and she was so, so tired.
Excerpt
Headlights swept over her car and she looked over her shoulder just in time to see a jacked-up truck pull over on the shoulder behind her. She wondered for a moment if this was good or bad. Good if he was the hero-type. Bad if he was the ax murderer type. The way her luck was running, it could go either way.
Edward Rutherford is prepared to do just about anything to escape an arranged marriage to a woman he despises. But his brilliant plan to feign insanity has some rather unwanted consequences...
