Hot Cowboy Nights (Lucky Penny Ranch #2)(38)

“We can only hope,” she said.

His long legs were not made for a cramped backseat and he couldn’t get comfortable. He groaned and flattened out a palm over his chest. Lizzy moved from the corner where she’d hugged up to the door to give him more room.

“Please tell me you aren’t having a heart attack.”

“I’m not having a heart attack,” he answered with a chuckle. “You okay?”

“It scared me, but it was like slow motion and I knew we weren’t going to roll when we started to slide. Ouch!” she exclaimed as her knee bumped her chest.

“Seat belt, right?” he asked.

“We’ll both have a bruise, but we could have gotten bloody noses from the bags so we’re lucky. This is going to make for some cramped quarters. Let’s go to the bed of the truck.”

“It’s sitting at a pretty good angle,” he said, “and we’d have to crawl over the side. Getting there wouldn’t be nearly the problem as getting back if we don’t like it. But I do have a blanket stashed in the toolbox back there.”

“Anything is better than this,” she said. “Let’s give it a try. If I don’t like it, I’ll wade down this creek and find a way out of here.”

“You’re taking this well,” he said.

“It’s not raining. It’s a fairly nice night. We’ve got a burger and four tacos plus tea if we’re brave enough to trust our bladders. It could be a hell of a lot worse.” She paused for a breath and winced at the pain in her shoulder from the seat belt. “How many women have been on that blanket in your toolbox?”

“None,” he answered quickly. “Not a single one because it’s a brand-new one, but we will definitely not talk about the one that it replaced. Are you ready to try this acrobatic act?”

“The front seats are full of air bags. You couldn’t cuss a cat in this backseat without getting a hair in your mouth or scratched all to the devil, so it’s either that or walk home with wet feet.” She picked up the brown bag with their food and tried to open the door, but it was jammed. “Looks like you are going first and I’ll climb out on that side.”

He pushed against the door but it didn’t budge. “And we will be using the windows because my door isn’t opening, either. Dammit! I liked this truck.”

“It might not be totaled,” she said.

“It’s eight years old, which means it probably is, but it’s paid for and I wanted to be on my feet before I had to buy another one.”

Lizzy pushed the button to roll down her window and nothing happened. “Are the keys still in the ignition?”

He bent at the waist, leaned over the seat as far as possible, and tried to start the engine. Like the windows, not a damn thing happened. The only thing left was to push the bags out of the way, go out the front doors, and crawl over into the bed of the truck.

“My side board is underwater,” she said. “So I’ll have to follow you out your side. Here, take the food bags and flip them over into the truck bed. We may be glad to have them if we aren’t found by breakfast time.” She flipped a leg over the seat and used her boot to stomp the air bag into submission.

The truck had created a dam with water rising up level with the running board and still climbing. When Toby stepped out, his foot slipped. Grabbing the top of the truck, he let out a string of swear words that made an old bull over there on the other side of the embankment throw back his head and bellow.

“Guess he’s a preacher.” Lizzy laughed.

“It’s not funny.” Toby inched his way up the slick surface until he could ease a leg over into the bed of the truck. But the whole vehicle was nose down on a fairly steep incline so he didn’t have anything steady to step into. Finally, with a leap, he landed on his butt with a thud, his boots coming to rest only a few inches from the bag with the food in it. God help him if he smashed her burger. She’d been a good sport, but after a night in the sloped back of a truck and no breakfast, she would have every right to turn into a shrew.



Lizzy had never been graceful. Fiona could scramble up a tree like a monkey and Allie could maneuver around on an uneven rooftop as if she was walking on flat ground. But not Lizzy. She tripped over air and she could never get a toehold on even the rough bark of a small mesquite tree.

She slung a foot out and hugged the top of the truck like it was a long-lost cousin. One step at a time, she made her way to the back where Toby held a hand out to her. She reached for it, and the slick soles of her boots gave way on the wet metal. She felt herself falling sideways and then boom; she was over the side of the truck and lying flat on top of Toby, her lungs deflated and gasping for air.

“Welcome to my club house,” Toby gasped.

She rolled to the side, her head a good foot higher than her boots that were braced against the toolbox down by the truck’s cab. “I wonder,” she inhaled deeply, “how that window got,” another quick intake of breath, “cracked.” She pointed to the spiderweb that started in the middle of the window and inched its way out to every corner.

“Looks like a rock flew up when the tire blew out,” he said.

“Or a twenty-two bullet?”

“Lizzy, don’t see ghosts or villains where they don’t exist. Truman is the only person I know of that would try to run us off by shooting at our tires, and he’s so old he probably goes to sleep with the chickens.” Toby was still flat on his back, staring at the sky.