Page 1 of Overdue for a Cowboy

Chapter One

Assistant librarian, Maisie Graham was lost in thought about the latest romance novel she’d been reading the night before as she steered her car up the deserted country road, which must have been why she didn’t see the llama standing in the middle of it…until it was too late.

The llama didn’t even move as Maisie screamed and yanked the wheel of the Subaru Outback to the left to avoid the animal, which probably would have been okay if it weren’t for the bookmobile she was towing behind the car. The bookmobile was an old camper she’d been restoring that she used to bring library books to kids in rural areas around her small Colorado mountain town of Woodland Hills.

The weight of the camper combined with the speed of the skid sent her car swerving onto the gravelly shoulder and pitching into the ditch.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

Two of the wheels of the car lifted off the ground then the vehicle rammed into a rock and came crashing back down. Aloud bang like a gunshot sounded, and Maisie’s neck jerked back as the airbag deployed and slammed into her face. The seat belt wrenched across her body as it locked, and a loud groan sounded as the camper rolled onto its side and crashed into the trees on the opposite side of the ditch.

Her body was tossed back and forth like a child shaking a rag doll as the car rocked then came to a stop, angled against the embankment. The left side of the vehicle clung to the hilly part of the ditch, and Maisy’s shoulder pressed awkwardly into the driver’s side door.

Pushing herself up with a pained groan, she blinked against the stars swimming around her head. Her vision blurred in the familiar way it did when she wasn’t wearing her glasses—they must have come off in the crash.

The car seemed to be filled with smoke, and she choked on the powder and foul-smelling air. Fine white dust covered the interior as if her clothes and the inside of her car had been dusted with powdered sugar, except instead of smelling sweet, it stank of the acrid scent of burnt chemicals.

Her body hurt and her brain was fuzzy, but she knew enough that she needed to get help.

Her phone was in her purse. Hoping the dark blob on the floor was her bag, she reached toward it. Pain shot through her wrist, and she let out a small cry at both the hurt and the fear that it was broken. A sharp ache across the bridge of her nose caused her eyes to sting, but the wetness on her face felt different than tears. She gingerly touched her cheekbone and even with her blurry vision, she could see the bright red tinge of blood. The frame of her glasses must have cut her nose.

She blinked against the tears as she scanned the seat and floor for her glasses but didn’t see them.

She also hadn’t seen another car since she’d turned up this road.

Using her good hand, she tried to free herself from the seatbelt cutting across her torso but couldn’t quite reach the release. Fighting a little panic and more tears, she leaned her head back against the headrest and tried to think. Logic and reason were her strong suits, so she could figure this out.

The first rule of any emergency situation was to stay calm. Although, this wasn’texactlyan emergency. True, she was bleeding, couldn’t see, was trapped in her seat, and had possibly broken a bone, but hey, she wasn’t dying.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to come up with a plan. She just needed to reach her purse.Andfind her glasses.

Except she couldn’t reach around her body far enough to grab the bag and a cursory pat along the seats with her hurt hand didn’t yield her glasses.

At least her front windows were down—she’d never been more grateful that the air conditioning of her late model Outback was on the fritz—so at least some of the smoke and dust was clearing and she wouldn’t boil to death in her car. Although the afternoon sunwasbeating through the windshield, making her thankful for the slight breeze of warm summer air that blew against her sweat-dampened forehead as she closed her eyes and tried to figure out a way to save herself.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that—she might have fallen asleep—so it could have been two minutes or twenty-five. Her head felt foggy as she blinked her eyes and struggled to sit up, not sure if she was dreaming, but she swore she heard thesound of an engine. Turning her head, she strained to listen. And prayed that if itwasa car, they would see her and stop to help.

Yes, itwasan engine, and she heard the distinct crunch of tires on gravel as it pulled to the side of the road and stopped.

Thank goodness.

“Maisie!”

She heard her name being called followed by a dog’s excited bark. Her brain might be fuzzy, but she would recognize that voice anywhere. “Dodge?” she whispered.

No. It couldn’t be.

She must have really hit her head. There was no way that Dodge Lassiter, the guy she’d been in love with since high school, the man she imagined as the hero in every romance novel she read, would just happen to be driving up this same road. Although there was a slight chance that this road might border one of the pastures of his family’s ranch. But it made her brain hurt to think about where the many acres of the Lassiter Ranch might spread to.

A thump hit the side of the car.

“Dodge?” she called out as she turned to squint at the head peering into her window.

But this wasnotDodge Lassiter. Not unless his blond hair had turned black, he’d grown a really shaggy beard, and he’d eaten dog food for lunch. This guy’s breath was terrible.

Her heart sank. This reallywasn’tDodge coming to save her. And not just because she realized this was a dog—a really big dog—sticking his head into her window and panting as he tried to lick her face, but because Dodge didn’t have a dog.

“I’m here, darlin’,” a breathless voice said from behind the shaggy mutt.

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