Chapter One Liliana Twenty miles per hour … fifteen … ten miles per hour.
Ten? I’d survived the past twenty hours driving through traffic in cities across the country, and now I was stuck behind a tractor going slower than a first-year med student suturing a wound.
My fingers twitched, and I tapped the dash in a staccato beat. Each time I blinked it took longer to lift my eyelids, as if miniature weights had been latched onto my eyelashes. My tire thumped over a pothole and my eyes jolted open.
Only seven more minutes and I’d be out of my car—if I could get around this John Deere. I’d moved away from one-laned gravel roads and this farming community for a reason. For a lot of reasons, to be honest.
My front bumper approached the massive planter attached to the tractor which spanned beyond either side of the road. The gleaming blades spaced evenly along its metal bars made it resemble a medieval torture device. Maybe it wasn’t a planter. My parents had moved me here when I was ten, and I’d never gotten involved in the agricultural community.
Channeling my inner NASCAR driver, I weaved from one side to the other. My mother, the illustrious Renee Hutchinson, expected me at nine o’clock for a late dinner, and on time was my middle name. I’d used “punctual” as one of the words to describe myself in my interview at the hospital. Never mind I wasn’t looking forward to being back in Renee’s house, or the fact she’d coerced me into coming here.
The farmer finally turned left onto a crossroad, and I sighed.
“About damn time.” I pressed my gas pedal to the floor and angled around the tractor. Only then did the large black animal rooted in the lane become visible. It lifted its head to meet my stunned stare.
Shit. Cow. Brakes.
My muscles tensed. I screamed and swerved hard to the right. The scenic countryside whirled around me, blurring into a haze of green, gray, and the red-orange glare of the sun. I lost track of the cow and launched off the road.
A telephone pole whizzed past my window, taking off my side mirror. I slammed into a metal fencepost. Barbed wire tangled around my car, and the fence ripped free of the ground. Dark sludge spattered onto my windows seconds before my airbag blasted into me, solid as a brick wall. My car lurched to a stop, the white airbag already hanging like a windsock on a calm day.
Acrid fumes engulfed me, stinging my eyes. I gagged and flung my door open, waving smoke out of my car.
The stillness of the landscape amplified my pulse thrumming in my ears. Steam hissed from under my dented hood. I focused on the bags of spilled corn nuts and gummy worms littering the passenger seat and took in a few gulping breaths.
Of course I’d swerved. I saved lives for a living, and a cow’s life counted too. But what did I get for my effort? I got stuck in a flooded corner of a field. Pushing the pedal down, I shoved my shifter into reverse and willed The Force to pull me to the gravel lane not thirty feet from my position. My Audi’s engine revved, rocking the car side to side but though it moved, it didn’t progress. It sank.
Crap dammit! I slammed my hands against the steering wheel and stared at the rows of potato plants stretching for miles in front of me, disappearing into the blood-red sun fat on the horizon.
I scanned the gravel road, endless fence lines, and pastures for any sign of civilization. Nada. Nope. Zilch. With the tractor gone from view, and no houses springing up from this land barren of people, I was on my own. It wasn’t like I could call an Uber in this god-forsaken place.
Yet this was home. Or rather, it used to be.
The black cow sauntered into the field in front of my car, swinging its hips like a diva. I turned off my engine and pushed my door open. With the sole of my sneaker, I shoved the barbed wire out of my way and plunked my feet in silky, wet slop. Four inches of standing water drowned the few remaining potato plants still fighting for life.
Potatoes, the one crop—aside from corn—I could identify on sight.
I stood, and my legs wobbled under me. This was my own fault. If I hadn’t been so intent on getting around the tractor, then I wouldn’t be in this situation. I should know better than anyone the damage caused by one thoughtless act behind the wheel.
What if the cow had been a jogger? And what if I hadn’t swerved in time? What if I’d been the one to rob someone of their happiness?
The cow plodded around to the back of my car and casually munched on potato vines as if it hadn’t just brushed death. I glared at her. Life often poured spoiled milk on my plans, but this time it’d thrown a whole damn cow in my way.
She mooed at me, a vine hanging out of her mouth.
Potato vines were toxic to animals. Even I’d gleaned that much information from living here. I fluttered my arms at the black and white cow, but she didn’t move.
“Fine. Die a slow death,” I muttered.
I searched my dash where my phone had been before the accident, but, of course, it wasn’t there. Hunching over, I shoved my hand under my seat. The tip of my index finger grazed the smooth corner of my phone, bumping it further out of my reach. I groaned, straightened, and yanked the back door open.
My phone’s screen lit up where it lay on the floor mat, but my eyes traveled to the purple stain it rested on. I brushed my fingertips reverently over the frayed carpet fibers, then closed my eyes, shoving the memory to the back of my mind.
I gripped my phone and shut the door, cutting the stain from my view.
Its screen faded to black, but I’d already seen the time. Nine-fifteen. I was officially late. I shoved my phone into my back pocket.
The cow’s large, glassy eyes followed my movements. I bent, dipped my hand under the standing water, and grabbed the most substantial clump I could.
“You stupid cow,” I yelled and launched the mud at the animal. But once it left my hand, it came apart, spreading in different directions, splashing into the water before it reached my target.
I didn’t ask for much. Simple things like a shower and a meal made me happy. Maybe a cup of Starbucks coffee in the morning. Paved roads wouldn’t be too much to ask for.
No cows. No muddy fields.
The brisk wind shifted, carrying a hint of cow manure, and the sun’s rays weakened further. Goosebumps zipped along my legs to the tips of my fingers, as my T-shirt and jean shorts were no longer sufficient. I’d forgotten how cool summer nights could be in this part of the country.
Nothing had changed in Clear Springs, Idaho in my absence. What had I hoped to gain by coming back? My mother, the sole person anchoring me to this place, would never change.
I eyed the cause of my predicament and broke into a cold sweat. Cows weighed up to three thousand pounds. What if it tipped on top of me? Or charged me? I’d be like a flea to a dog.
Surely Hippocrates wouldn’t view refusing treatment to a cow as a violation of his oath, even if said cow had a death wish. I glared at the asinine animal as it stooped to ingest more vines.
I took a deep breath, hating I couldn’t let it be. Widening my stance, I stepped toward the cow. Naturally, it lifted a hoof and stomped it.
“You’re going the wrong way, you dumb thing. Can’t you see, I’m trying to save you?” My voice grew louder with every word, but still she backed away from me.
Snot hung out of the animal’s nose. She tossed her head at me, and I squealed, ready to bolt. Cow boogers flung onto my shirt and smacked against my face.
“Ew. Ew.
Ew.” In rapid succession, one hand after the other, I wiped at my cheek. The goo smeared and stuck to my hands, forming strands between each finger.
She slimed me. The cow watched me the whole time. She stuck out her pale tongue and inserted it into its nostril, looking at me as if she’d intentionally boogered me.
Fear forgotten, a red haze clouded my mind, and I charged the cow, screaming all sorts of obscenities. Not caring which way the damn animal ran, I lunged forward, slipped, and landed face-first in the muck. The cow skittered further into the field as I sank into the deepest mud pit of my life.
I lifted my face, now covered with an au-natural mask, and reached for my phone. My back pocket was empty. Damn it all to hell! What had I done to upset karma this bad? If only my fellow physicians could see me now. Dr. Liliana Chase—literally shit-faced.
Oncoming headlights interrupted my thoughts. A navy-blue truck slowed as it passed me. Its brake lights turned on, followed by bright-white reverse beams. Hallelujah. Help had arrived. I scrambled to my knees, but my hands slipped in the wet silt, and I fell onto my chest. Gritty bits of soil--and heaven only knew what else--crunched between my teeth.
A pair of polished cowboy boots with jeans overhanging them landed in the gravel, a cloud of dirt puffing into the air. They progressed around the truck until
he came into full view and stopped at the edge of the field.
He wore a pearl-snap, plaid blue shirt, and a baseball cap, but he may as well have been wearing a tuxedo for the way I stared at him. Though daylight faded, the expanse of his shoulders, his suntanned arms, and his lean waist permeated my up-turned world.
I blinked.
Beyond caring about how dirty I’d get, I rolled onto my back and sat up, resting my arms on my bent knees. My ab muscles burned with exertion. I tugged my T-shirt into place and scrubbed at the snot-mud on my face, but it was useless.
“Hey there.” He waved with one hand, the other shoved into his pocket.
My greeting vanished down the back of my throat at the sound of his rich voice. I waved in response.
He crouched, tucked his jeans into his boots, and waded into the field, carefully maneuvering over the busted fence. “You look like you could use some help.”
I bobbled my head. Not quite a yes, not a definite no. He held out his hand to me, and I grabbed it. Mud squished between our fingers; his other hand slipped to the small of my back as he lifted me out of the pit.
My left foot sank deeper, but at least I was on my feet. “Thank you, um—”
“Blake.”
“Blake.” His nearness, the smell of his cologne—a woody musk with a hint of spice—the field, the cow, and the absurdity of my situation left me speechless. Warmth from his hand on my back seeped into my cold muscles.
When was the last time I’d been this close to a man? Not since Michael.
I jerked away from Blake, swinging my right leg toward my car, but my left remained anchored in the sinkhole. I fell backward, my arms pinwheeling like a cartoon character as I tipped dangerously low. He caught me around the waist and pulled me against him. The rhythm of his heart echoed in my ear.
“Whoa, hold on.” His voice reverberated in his chest. He teetered on one leg, and for a couple of horrifying seconds we wobbled back and forth until he steadied himself. “Well, we’re in a bit of a pickle.” Understatement. A long line at the coffee shop when you’re already late for work is a pickle. This was an entirely new level of complicated. In post-op appointments I’d seen men naked and touched their bare skin, but outside of the hospital where male bodies weren’t broken things needing to be fixed, they made me uncomfortable. And here I was with my face pressed against a very male and very solid chest.
Dark splotches stained his pale blue shirt.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined your shirt.”
“No worries. It had a mustard stain on it. I was going to get rid of it anyway.” His voice had the effect of a fuzzy blanket on a chilly afternoon.
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“No, really, it was a stain the size of Texas.”
I laughed, a rusty laugh from lack of use. I tried tugging my left leg free, but it didn’t budge, and my right leg slid further between his, entangling us even more. The sun continued its descent, lending a pink hue to everything around me.
“Sorry, uh …” He paused. “You never told me your name.”
“Liliana.” With my cheek still tight against his chest, I glanced up at him.
Color drained from his face, and he shoved me an arms-length away, tweaking my left leg in an awkward angle. I twisted out of his grip and righted myself. After double checking I was stable, he interlaced his fingers in front of him, looking everywhere but at me.
Did he know me?
Or, a more important question, did I know him? But I’d remember someone who had such a commanding presence.
He rubbed under his nose and left behind a streak of mud like a mustache. I stared at it and folded my lips together, containing my laughter.
“Liliana, that’s a pretty name.” He shifted his eyes to the road and back to the cow. “I—"
“Moo,” the cow interrupted him. She clomped toward us, flicking her tail back and forth.
“He’s not talking to you,” I called to the animal as she lifted her tail and dropped a fresh cow pie. It landed with a loud
splat, plop-plop.
“Oh, please.” I gagged on the smell and waved my hand in front of my nose.
Blake smiled and tugged his cap lower over his eyes, even though the sun had been replaced by a few stars in the darkening twilight. I held my breath for a split second before I released it. With his country-boy charm, he could be a greater threat than the cow, but I could survive another five minutes. Then I wouldn’t have to see him again. I looked at his truck—at the small cab.
Either I would be trapped in a confined space with him or walk to my mother’s house. An easy choice. “Thanks again for helping me, but I can walk.”
He wrinkled his eyebrows while I yanked at my left leg. With a loud slurp, my foot emerged, minus a sneaker. Blake burst out laughing.
This wasn’t happening. I’d lost my car, my phone, my
shoe, my hair hung in muddy ropes around my face—and now some small-town Hottie McHotterson stood there laughing at me. What else could go wrong?
My feet shifted under me, and I bumped into Blake’s shoulder. His laughter ended with a shout as he fell. I swung my arms for balance and managed to stay on my feet while Blake created a tidal wave on impact. Startled by his fall, the cow jumped and bolted over the section of fence I’d torn through. Then she moseyed across the road, back through a hole in another barbed-wire fence.
I covered my mouth with my dirty hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Once again, the rumble of his laugh filled the air and halted my apology. I offered him a hand, and he took it. The glint in his eye caught me off guard. For a moment, I thought he might pull me down, but he didn’t, and the look disappeared. I anchored myself and helped him up.
“At least we solved the problem with the cow.” His shirt was more brown than blue now, and his fitted jeans were soaked.
Mission accomplished … but at what cost?
“Thank you for your help. I’ve got it from here.” Not bothering to find my shoe, I left him standing in the field and maneuvered through the downed wire to the road. Mud dripped around my feet and slipped off my backside in sync with my uneven gait.
I only had liability coverage on my car. Since I was the one to cause the accident, my insurance wouldn’t pay me a dime. And if I reported this crash, I could say good-bye to my good driver discount.
I took a breath. First, I needed to get to my mom’s house and find my way to a good night’s sleep. I’d make better decisions in the morning.
“Wait.” His voice carried through the wind behind me. “What kind of a man would I be if I let you walk away without a shoe?”
A man who grinned all the time. A man who should have kept driving. A man too good-looking to live in this middle-of-nowhere town. I didn’t stop walking until a sharp pain stabbed into my heel. Hopping around on my one sneakered foot until I faced him again, I sat in chair pose and examined the source of my injury. A thorn pierced deep into my skin, and I pulled it out.
Damn devil weeds. I straightened and placed my foot back on the ground. Damn Idaho. Damn cow. I proceeded to curse everything within my sight until my eyes settled on Blake. Damn him. Damn him for being too perfect.
I rubbed my temples in a circular motion. The mud on my knuckles tightened and cracked as it dried.
“I’m going to check your engine.” Blake gestured to my Audi and wiped his hands on the last clean fabric of his jeans. “If there’s nothing too damaged, I can pull your car out tomorrow morning.”
I nodded, and let my hands fall to my sides.
White, puffy clouds billowed into the air as he lifted the hood.
Blake let out a low whistle. “Looks like your radiator’s cracked.”
“Meaning? Can I still drive it?”
He shook his head. “You could, but I wouldn’t recommend it. For one thing, your airbags deployed. Another issue, your engine could overheat, and then you’d warp the heads and blow the pistons, turning it into a square block of metal only good for recycling.”
Warped heads? Blown pistons? What the hell was he talking about? “So, in other words, I’m back to walking.”
“Unless—you wouldn’t mind if I give you a ride? I’m driving past your mom’s house anyway.”
“Wait.” I took a step back. “You know my mom?”
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