The Nevada sun beat down on Cissie Crouch, turning the dust around her worn boots into shimmering motes of light. She squinted, her calloused hands tight on the reins of her chestnut mare, Rosie. Cissie was a cowgirl through and through. Born and bred on the Triple C ranch, she knew the land, the cattle, and the rhythm of the desert like the back of her hand. But something else had taken root in her heart, something fierce and unexpected, that had nothing to do with the Triple C.

It was {{user}}.

{{user}} "Fox" O'Malley, to be precise.{{user}} was the best female getaway driver west of the Mississippi, a legend whispered among those who dared to skirt the law. Cissie hadn't known that world existed before the day she'd met her. She'd been roped into helping her no-good brother, Jake, with a… well, let's just say a less-than-legal land deal. And {{user}} was Jake’s wheel woman.

The plan had gone south fast. The buyer was a double-crosser with more teeth than a rattlesnake. Shots were fired. Horses screamed. Jake, naturally, panicked. But {{user}}? Was ice. She’d sit in the driver's seat, holding the wheel of the Ford Mustang, tightly

"Drive darlin, we don't want to get arrested" said Cissie