Accidentally Kidnapping the Cowboy (Accidentally Kidnapping)

1. Daisy

CHAPTER 1

DAISY

Don’t you dare run out on me, Daisy Vincent. Only bad things will come to you if you disrespect your mama like that.

My mother’s grim words ring in my ears as I stare in horror at the big, brawny cowboy splayed across the front of my stepfather’s truck.

I should scream, because he just came flying out of nowhere, and even though I’d stopped my truck to check the map—so I know I didn’t hit him—that’s exactly what it looks like.

It looks like I hit a stranger with the truck I stole from my parents.

I’m in so much trouble.

Jumping out of the driver’s seat, I get to the front of the truck just in time for him to slide off.

“Whoa there, mister,” I gasp, catching him in my arms. Sort of. He’s way heavier than I expect, and we keep going, all the way to the pavement. I manage to catch his head in my hands, and his hat cushions that thunk a bit, too.

But now we’re both lying on the road in front of my truck, limbs tangled, and I’m smooshed down on top of him, my face buried in his warm neck.

For a cowboy, he smells really good. I grew up on and around ranches. Every time Neil tries to be a rancher, I’m roped in to help as unpaid labor. I know that cowboys do not normally smell like this. Like…soap and flannel and something musky sweet. Like all of my indecent fantasies come to life.

Daisy Vincent, you’re a no good slut.

My mother’s vicious words are enough to snap me out of my confusion. I untangle my arms from where I was clinging to his shoulders and glance around. We’re in front of a bar.

And there’s another guy groaning in the shadows. He lurches into view, and he looks big and mean and angry. “Hey! Little girl!”

Oh shit.

“Get up,” I breathe. “Please please please...”

Someone else stumbles through the bar door, knocking into Mean Guy, who immediately decks him…and then falls on his ass. They both do.

If I stay here a second longer, I’m likely next, because the big guy is groaning something about a getaway driver.

Does he mean me?

How did I become the main character in a bar fight? We’re in the middle of nowhere. This crossroads doesn’t even have a name on the map.

I scramble to my feet, but the cowboy who landed on my hood catches my ankle, his fingers unexpectedly strong for an unconscious man. “Don’t leave…without me…little angel.”

I yank my foot free of his grasp.

But then I look down, and there’s something about him that makes me stop.

If I leave him here in the dirt, that drunk monster from the shadows is going to kill him. I just know it.

And since he landed on my truck first, the monster will probably pin it on me instead.

“Get up, then,” I pant, leaning over to tug at his shirt.

His eyes blink open as I hover above him. “Angel?”

“That’s me, your guardian angel,” I mutter. “Can you stand?”

He lurches to his feet, swaying, and I shove him toward the passenger side door. “Get in!”

Standing up is the only help he’s going to give me, though. I have to shove him into the truck, and he’s passed out again before I get around to the driver’s side.

The drunks are back on their feet as I’m starting the truck, and they bang on my door as I floor the gas.

With a squeal and spray of dirt, my tires bite and I take off down the highway, leaving the roadhouse behind us.

“Okay, mister, I saved your life,” I mutter. “You want to tell me where I can drop your handsome hide?”

There’s no answer.

I grab his wrist to make sure his pulse is strong—the full extent of my first aid knowledge, so I’m glad it is—and then I grimly start to think about what my options are for hiding an accidentally kidnapped cowboy.