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Bon Jovi abruptly cut off as her phone rang through the Corvette’s speakers. Madeline’s name appeared on the screen.

Of course.

Couldn't her agent wait until a decent hour to bother her? She reached toward the button to decline the call, taking her eyes off the road for a split second. When she looked up again, she was rounding a slight curve and screamed at the sight of a massive brown cow standing in her lane.

“Holy shit!”

Slamming on the brakes, she jerked the steering wheel left, then back to the right, somehow missing the bovine, which hadn’t blinked or moved an inch. Unfortunately, the rapid maneuver sent the sports car spinning. It careened across the opposite lane before the passenger side slammed into the ditch with a loud crunch, bringing the Corvette to an abrupt stop.

She now faced the rear end of the wayward cow. Of course, the beast decided that was the perfect time to lift its tail and drop a cow patty—something she could have happily spent her entire life without seeing.

Her pulse raced as she tried to catch her breath. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, and her fingers ached from the pressure.

A cloud of dust began to settle around the ’Vette. Her sunglasses were askew, and it took a moment to register that she wasn’t injured and hadn’t hit another car or the damn cow. Thank God. But the passenger side of her car must have been badly damaged, and she was afraid to get out and look.

Whoop. Whoop.

Lifting her gaze, she spotted the flashing red-and-blue lights of a now-familiar sheriff’s SUV approaching the stubborn animal, which still stood in the middle of the road without a care in the world. After another whoop of the siren, the cow mooed loudly, then finally ambled onto the shoulder.

As the marked vehicle rolled closer to her Corvette, she prayed, as she never had before, that the driver was one of the department’s deputies and not their boss.

But, of course, her prayers weren’t answered.

Scowling, the handsome sheriff drove past her, made a U-turn, and pulled in behind her.

Of all the shitty luck.

Her stomach sank because she knew that, this time, she couldn't talk her way out of it. No small fine to pay. No tip of the hat and a “drive safely now.”

Nope, she was screwed.

“Damn it!”

With her hands still shaking on the wheel, she waited and winced as she imagined tomorrow’s headlines.

How-to Star Arrested! Amanda Sparks in the Slammer! How-to Survive Jail, Her Next Book?

A tap on her window startled her before she rolled it down. Her shoulders sagged, and she refused to look at him as she ground her molars together. This time, she was pissed at herself—not him. He didn’t deserve her wrath today.

The cow certainly did, but Sheriff Minor didn't.

“Ms. Sparks, are you hurt at all?”

She was surprised by his gentle tone but kept her gaze forward. “Only my pride.” And my precious baby.

“Glad to hear it.” He sighed heavily. “What in the name of God’s green earth were you doing? Speeding again, driving recklessly, and then swerving across the road like that. You didn’t even notice me trying to catch up to you. How you didn’t flip this thing is beyond me.”

His deep voice was thick with disappointment now—something that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

“Well, I think we both know there’s no getting out of trouble this time,” he said.

“Yeah, I bet not.”

“What? No argument?”

She shook her head. “Not today, Sheriff. Not today. I could explain that my aunt talked my ear off this morning and made me late, or that a freaking cow decided to take a stroll down the middle of the road, but neither of those excuses would help, right?”

“Not a bit. Step out of the car, please.”