Bringing my hand up to my head, my fingers met something warm and wet. The smell of rust hit my nose; it was too dark to see, but I assumed it was my blood. I reached around the floor of the car searching for my cell. Once I found it, I mashed the power button and waited for it to power up. When the screen remained black, I yelled obscenities at the steering wheel. Unable to get it working, I threw it on the seat and flung the door open, falling to the ground on my hands and Jell-O-like knees, violently shaking. The dizzy feeling making me want to puke, I clutched at my pounding skull in an effort to calm the herd of bulls stampeding around in my brain.

. A few moments passed, and I finally caught my breath. I pulled myself up with the help of the open door. I leaned against it while I caught my bearings.

Inspecting the front of the car with the small amount of light from the one working headlight, I sighed and leaned down to examine the damage. Someone had jammed a tree into my engine block.

God damn it! This was just my luck.

It seemed I’d caused a fair bit of damage. It was definitely not drivable, based on the shattered glass, the dripping water and the tree currently parading as a hood ornament.

On top of my destroyed car and dead cell, I obviously still had no shoes; it was some ungodly hour of the morning, and the last form of civilization I passed was about twenty miles back down the road.

The cow I almost hit stood motionless in the middle of the road. Seeing the stupid thing standing there like nothing had happened made me see red. I stomped over to the senseless creature and shoved at its side. Its tail swished but other than that it made no signs of moving.

“You stupid, fat, piece of meat! I hope you’re happy! Look what you’ve done! You just had to screw everything up, didn’t you! Didn’t you! You dumb shit! I was about to start my goddamn life! Gahhhhh!” My throat protested as I screamed loudly and stomped my foot.

Energy expended, I dropped my forehead onto the cow’s side. My eyes shut tight; I continued to yell at the top of my lungs.

“S’cuse me, ma’am. You mind not givin’ my cattle a hidin’?” A smooth male voice asked from behind me.

Jumping a solid foot in the air, I screamed long and loud. My hand flew to my heaving chest and I spun around, stepped back quickly, and bumped into the idiotic beast behind me. “Shit, sorry! It was in the middle of the road and I almost hit it.” I paused a moment. “Wait, it’s yours? Why is it in the middle of the road?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips in annoyance.

The headlights from his truck shined softly up from the side of the road, backlighting his silhouette and leaving his face concealed in shadow. I must have been in a state to not have heard his truck or seen the lights. Another bout of hysterical laughter bubbled up from my chest. Today couldn’t get any worse.

I was barefoot, standing in the middle of the road trying to beat up a cow, probably looking deranged and homeless while some tall, built cowboy came along to witness my meltdown.

Of course.

Why the hell not?

“You all right there, ma’am? Are you hurt?” The cowboy moved forward a step, one hand palm up as he approached me, as if he thought I might turn tail and run.

Not likely, considering I was trapped between an eight-hundred pound animal and a solid wall of muscled man. “You’ve gone and banged your head good there,” he drawled, gesturing to my head.

I’d forgotten about the cut on my brow. I imagined I looked like a busted can of biscuits. Sobering up quickly, I straightened, putting my hand up to stop his rather intimidating approach.

“I’m fine really, but your stupid animal was in the middle of the damn road and I swerved so as not to hit the ginormous thing and crashed my car.” I took a second to assess the man in front of me. I didn’t know if I should be worried or not. A female out on a deserted road with a stranger. I mean, he could be some sort of weird-ass serial killer for all I knew. He didn’t act or look like one, but then again, what did I know about criminal profiling?

I rolled my eyes at myself, and the excessive rambling I was doing inside my head. “Have you got a cell phone so I can call for a tow truck please?” I asked as politely as possible. If I could get my car towed back to the closest town, I could find a hotel for the night and figure out what to do from there.

I was answered by a short husky laugh that had my stomach fluttering. “Darlin’, you ain’t gonna get a tow out here at this time of night. Damn, you ain’t gonna get one out here for another three days, at the least. Tommy’s visitin’ family.”

Oh, hell no. What was I supposed to do now?

“I really don’t care who this Tommy guy is, but I’m sure there has to be a tow truck somewhere in town. Can you help me or not?” I snapped.

The day’s festivities had finally caught up with me. I was fed up, tired and had just suffered through the worst day ever. I also didn’t appreciate the condescending tone his voice carried.

Another cocky cowboy. No surprises there. I’d met a few of them over the years and they were always the same. Arrogant assholes.

“You ain’t from round here, are ya?” he asked.

“No, I’m not. I’ve had a horrible day. I’ve driven for hours and your shit-for-brains animal made me crash my damn car. I’m tired, sore and not at all in the mood to sleep on the side of the road. So can you or can you not call me a tow truck?”

Nice Amelia had left the building.

His voice turned hard as he instructed, “Get in the truck. You can stay at the ranch tonight and call somebody to come get you in the mornin’.”

Get in his truck?

I had no idea who he was. Why the hell would I get in his truck? I stood there, rooted to the spot, contemplating my choices. Get in the car with an annoying stranger or wait out on the side of the road?

Damn it!

I didn’t like my options, but it was becoming clear I would have to get in his truck and pray to God he wasn’t an ax murderer because a woman waiting on the side of the road, all alone…that was just asking for trouble.

“If you need anything outta the car, you best be gettin' it. I won’t be long. Gotta take care of this ‘shit-for-brains animal’, and then we’ll get going.”

I didn’t like the snark in his voice and I was done being told what to do; rude or not, I wasn’t about to let him boss me around. I stood my ground, arms crossed over my chest, chin up, playing the defiant girl I had never been allowed to be.

Lord only knows why I chose that moment to practice being stubborn, but to hell with men and their stupid cowboy hats.

“You fixin’ to be stubborn? Knock ya socks off, darlin’,” Cocky cowboy called me out on my stunt.

I watched as he walked up to the cow and pulled out his cell. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but not five minutes later, another truck pulled up; its lights shone directly onto the cowboy.

My God, he’s gorgeous.

I felt the heat rising in my face as I took him in for the first time. Brown, scuffed cowboy boots paired with washed-out Wranglers, were held tight with a huge metal belt buckle and topped with a well-worn white cotton t-shirt. His shirt strained against his defined body. I was too far away to get a good look at his face, but what I could see under his big black cowboy hat was a hard chin that screamed nibble me.

“Howdy, ma’am. Sorry ‘bout the hold up.” Rumbled another husky voice.

I spun around, taking in the two cowboys staring at me. The sight alone made my knees turn to jelly. The second cowboy moved forward, his hand out. I reached mine forward and he took it in both of his and shook it gently. I could feel the hard callouses on them.

They were large, rough and hard, definitely working hands. The gentleness in them surprised me.

Dear Lord, what was I? Some type of hand tramp?

“Austin’s the name. I’m sure my brother, Destry, didn’t think to introduce himself so please excuse his manners. Dropped on his head a few times, he was. And you are?”

“Amelia, my name is Amelia,” I answered.

He smiled down at me, a glint in his eye. “A pretty name for a pretty lil’ lady. Would you mind holdin’ on a little longer while we move this here cow outta the way? We’ll be back in a lil’ bit.”

He was smooth. I’d give him that. He had more charm than you could poke a stick at. “That’s all right, I have to get my things from my car anyway,” I told Austin while trying to ignore the foul look Destry was giving me, along with the grunt he threw out.

If Destry had asked nicely like Austin did, I would have done it! Okay, that was total bull, but something about Destry just rubbed me the wrong way. His unique name caught my attention. It was an old name I thought, one that I hadn’t come across more than once of twice in old western novels.

I quickly shoved everything into my enormous purse, and barefoot in a field on the side of the highway, I picked my way over rocks, glass, trash, and cow shit to the truck Austin had pulled up in. Destry and Austin came over, the cow now back on the right side of the fence. “C’mon, I’ll give ya a hand up,” Destry mumbled and walked to the passenger’s side of his truck.

I looked to Austin who was smirking at me. “I’m stayin’ back to fix this here fence up. You should go on back to the ranch with Destry. Was a pleasure meetin’ ya, ‘Melia.” Austin tipped his hat and walked off, slapping his brother on the back as he passed.

With a huff, I made for the other truck. “I can get in just fine, thank you very much,” I snapped at him. With one hand clutching my purse, I tried to climb up into the truck. My skirt making it a little more difficult than I imagined. A gasp tore from my throat as a large, warm hand planted itself on my backside and pushed. Hard.

Clearly befuddled, I cleared my throat, and without looking his way, thanked him while buckling my seatbelt. Destry walked around the front of the truck. His face once again became visible as he passed the lights.

Sweet baby Jesus.

He was hot! Not just hot, but mess-your-panties devastatingly hot.



2

Destry

Pissed off and bone-ass tired weren’t a good combination.

Add in the uppity city girl sitting in my truck, and it was a recipe fixing to go bad. My brother’s flirting with her didn’t help either. He couldn’t help himself. He’d put the moves on any girl who walked in his line of sight. I didn’t know why it bothered me so much. She was smart-mouthed and stubborn.

I got a call at two am telling me there was a break in the fence and one of the cattle was out. When I pulled up to fix it, the cow hadn’t gone far, but the mad woman in my passenger’s seat had been tenderizing the hell out of its rib meat.

Who in their right mind tried to hit a cow?

Then she went and told me off like I was a child. All the while standing there in her pretty white top and tighter-than-tight black skirt, which molded perfectly to a very lush ass. She might be sexy as all get up, but she was a city girl. It was written all over her. And city girls didn’t dance with country boys.

She’d been silent the whole ride back to the ranch. As we pulled in, I tapped my thumbs on the steering wheel. My palms were sweating.

She’d torn her skirt trying to jump in my truck. She’d also given me the perfect excuse to get a hand on her ass. Only problem with that was the hard-on I’d been sporting. She wasn’t helping any, crossing and uncrossing her legs. My jeans were cutting off the circulation to the bottom half of my body, making the ride home more than uncomfortable.

I put the truck in park and jumped down. The woman made me lose all my manners. I didn’t introduce myself to start with, mostly because I was taken aback by the comical situation I’d stumbled upon. It wasn’t every day you pulled up to find a smoking hot chick going Mike Tyson on a cow. I realized, as I watched her climb down to the ground, I hadn’t opened her door, another rude thing I’d done, but I was tired and she was making me lose my bearings. If Gran got a load of me being a prick, she’d surely slap me upside the head. I shook my head and readjusted the crotch of my jeans before stepping out from beside the truck. With a curt nod, I directed her toward the house.

“You live here?” she asked, shock written all over her face.

Typical.

City girls always thought we were hicks, living in trailers or rundown old shacks.