had one of those soft, gravelly voices that made her want to shiver. Or was that reaction from the shock she’d been through? Either way, she hugged her arms against her breasts.
“I’m not totally sure—something ran in front of me. A wild hog, I think. Did you see one on the highway?” She twisted her head in the direction of the darkened blacktop. “I hope I didn’t hit it.”
“I didn’t see a hog on the road or the shoulders. Only a set of skid marks a country mile long. You must have been mighty anxious to get home. Just how fast were you going, Ms. Sanchez?”
There was a hint of censure in his voice, which could only be expected. No one in his right mind would drive the speed she’d been traveling on the highway at night. Except someone in fear for her life, she thought grimly.
“Too fast,” she conceded. “But I—it’s not like you think. I wasn’t just in a hurry to get to the ranch. I was—”
Before she could go on, he interrupted, “In this area, wildlife on the highway is a major problem—even while driving the speed limit.”
He didn’t have to tell Lucita that. This patch of Texas had been her home for many years before she’d moved to Corpus. She’d seen plenty of mangled vehicles and even deaths caused by wandering wildlife.
“Yes, I’m aware of that, Deputy. But I—” How could she tell him that she believed someone had been deliberately trying to run her off the road? Even to herself, the notion sounded incredible. And because she had no evidence to back up her suspicion, she kept it to herself.
Wearily, she reached up to push her long hair away from her face. As her fingertips brushed past her temple, they encountered something wet and sticky. She felt around on her head for the source of the gooey substance and yelped when her fingers pushed onto a lump and an open gash.
“Oww!” Lifting her hand in front of her face, she could see blood smeared on her fingers. “I must have cut myself.”
“Let me take a look.”
Stepping forward, he directed the light toward the side of her head. Lucita stood rigidly still while he parted her long hair to examine the wound. Once again she was assaulted with the pleasant smell of his shirt, the masculine strength of his warm body.
“Yeah, that’s a pretty nasty gash. It was hidden by your hair and I didn’t see it before,” he murmured. “I’d better call in an ambulance, after all. You might need to be checked for a concussion.”
She deliberately moved back from him. “Forget it. I’m not comfortable with hospitals. Besides, my cousin and her husband are both doctors. They’ll come to the ranch and check me out if need be.”
“I’m concerned about more than a concussion,” he said in a brusque, businesslike voice. “You’re probably going to need stitches, too.”
Before she could guess his intention, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, gathered one corner together and pressed the fabric to the wound.
His big hand inadvertently brushed against her cheek and she closed her eyes as she tried to steel herself against the odd emotions rushing through her. How long had it been since a man who wasn’t related to her had been this close? Three years. Three long, lonely years.
“I’ll make sure I get the wound cared for, Deputy. Thank you.”
Sensing that he was making her uncomfortable, he handed the handkerchief to her and stepped back.
“Be sure that you do.” Curling his fingers around her upper arm, he asked, “Can you make it over to my truck? I need to write up the accident and you’ll be more comfortable there.”
Sitting down would be a relief. At the moment it was an effort for her to remain upright. Her head must have taken a harder whack than she’d thought. The dizziness and nausea she’d felt the moment she’d stood on her feet was still coming and going in great waves. “I think so,” she told him.
With his hand on her arm, he supported most of her weight as the two of them waded through the tall grass and weeds. Just as they reached his truck, another patrol car braked to a jarring halt at the side of the highway.
An officer climbed out of the vehicle and Deputy McCleod called over to him.
“If you haven’t already called for a tow truck, do that now, then deal with the fence.”
The other man lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
The deputy led Lucita around to the passenger door of his truck, which he’d left idling, and helped her into the seat. Once she was inside and he’d shut the door behind her, she began to shiver, but whether her reaction was from the air-conditioning blowing from the dash or anticipation of a grilling, she wasn’t sure. She just knew she wanted this whole ordeal over with so that she could go home to her family.
Lights of all shapes and colors illuminated knobs and meters on the dashboard in front of her. A two-way radio crackled as voices intermittently sent information across the airwaves. Behind her head, against the back windshield, long, high-powered rifles rested in a gun rack. She wondered if the lawman had ever been forced to use any of his weapons.
Seconds later, the deputy was sliding into the seat next to her. He switched on the interior cab light and the small space was filled with a dim, yellowish glow. She studied his profile as he silently reached for a clipboard and began to copy information from her driver’s license.
The man was somewhere in his mid to late thirties, Lucita decided. A strong, square jaw was covered with a faint stubble of dark whiskers. Coffee-brown sideburns ended at the lobes of his ears while his hair was just long enough to curl against his nape. His nose was on the large side and surprisingly straight for a man who’d undoubtedly been involved in a fair share of physical scuffles. Faint creases bracketed a roughly hewn set of lips, which at the moment were pressed together in a grim line. No doubt he was very unhappy with her careless driving.
Head still bent, he continued to write. “I don’t think I need to point out how lucky you were tonight. I think you already realize you could have been killed.”
Lucita drew in a deep breath. She wished she could see his eyes. They might give her a clue as to what he was actually thinking. But they were totally shadowed by the brim of his hat. Her gaze fell to his left hand. The ring finger was blank. But what did that matter? Why was she even wondering if the man was married?
She tried to focus on the real reason for sitting next to this lanky deputy. He seemed like a strong, capable man and something about his presence gave her a sense of security. She needed to tell him what actually happened on the highway. She needed his help. Otherwise, she might not survive. “Looking at it that way, I suppose you’re right. But at the moment I don’t especially feel lucky. I—you see, only moments before my encounter with the hog, there was a car tailgating me. It got so close that it bumped me.”
Turning his head, he looked directly at her. The full view of his face was almost as jolting as hitting the power pole, she decided.
“Bumped you?”
Even though he’d only spoken two words, she could hear disbelief in his voice. Looking at it from his view, she could see how ridiculous it sounded. This was a rural area where most people lived at a slow pace. Neighbor knew neighbor and they definitely
