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the gas.”
    She swallowed. “Crank the wheel…which way?” Her eyes were big and green, her lashes thick and spiky. He could read the trepidation and found himself reaching for the handle and pulling open the door.
    “Move over. I’ll do it for you.”
    She didn’t budge. Instead, her hands tightened around the wheel, slim fingers and neatly trimmed, white-tipped manicured nails. “I need to learn. I’d rather you just told me what to do.”
    “Look, Patience, like you said, it’s hotter than blazes out here. If you’ve never done this before, it isn’t that easy. It’ll take you half the day.”
    “What if I have to do it when you aren’t around?”
    “I’ll tell you what. When we get to Llano—I presume that’s where you’re headed.” She nodded. “When we get to Llano, I’ll show you how to back this thing up, okay?”
    She still looked uncertain. He wasn’t sure if it was the lesson she was worried about or the fact that he would be the teacher. He didn’t much like the idea himself.
    “All right, you win,” she said. “It really is hot out here.” Patience slid across the seat and he climbed up beside her, trying to ignore her great-smelling perfume and the brush of her thigh against his. It didn’t take long to jockey the truck and trailer into a better position to get back onto the road. He left the engine running and got down from the cab.
    “I appreciate your help,” she said a little stiffly, as if she had to force out the words.
    “No problem.” He didn’t say more, just returned to the trailer, checked on Button, Lobo, and Stormy’s horse, Gus, then climbed up in the Dodge. He waited till she pulled back onto the roadway, then drove in behind her. He left her crawling along in the slow lane with her windows rolled down. He needed to get to the rodeo grounds and at the speed she was traveling, she wouldn’t arrive before midnight.
    He couldn’t help smiling at the incongruous picture she made in the old brown pickup, her blond hair damp and sticking to her temples, makeup beginning to run in the heat. But even hot and sweaty and dressed in cowboy clothes, she oozed a sense of class. What the hell was an upper-crust woman from Boston doing in Texas?
    Dallas shook his head. One thing he knew, rodeo attracted all kinds of people.
     
    Well, Shari’s Mr. Nice Guy, Dallas Kingman, was as big a jerk as ever. Sure he had stopped to help. He hadn’t recognized her at first, probably thought she was some poor needy female who would crawl all over him with gratitude. Patience would have been a lot more grateful if the man had been halfway pleasant.
    At least she was on her way again. Not moving very fast, but rolling along the highway. She had called and cancelled the tow truck when the engine temperature fell back into the moderate zone, then down the road took a chance and put the air conditioner on again. The rush of cool air revived her spirits and she pressed a little harder on the accelerator, building up a bit more speed.
    The terrain changed a little, grew less hilly as she rolled south toward Llano. The Texas landscape was rugged. Mostly tumbleweeds, coarse sand, blowing winds, and sagebrush, which seemed to thrive on the hot dry sun. The only break in the vast brown earth stretching out in front of her was a scattering of wildflowers: a few bluebonnets and some bright orange Indian paintbrush.
    She stopped for gas in a town called Cherokee and bought a big plastic jug of water, which made her angry at Dallas all over again. She had hoped he might be friendlier the next time they met, but it certainly hadn’t happened today. His soft Texas drawl carried an edge he seemed to reserve just for her and those handsome features held a trace of sarcasm he didn’t bother to hide.
    Which suited her just fine. She wasn’t one of those women who made a fool of herself over a pair of blue eyes. She didn’t have time for that kind of nonsense. She had far more important things to