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The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel
Pamela Britton


A PROMISE TO PROTECTUnder the guise of taking over the family’s rodeo act, former Army Ranger Chance Reynolds is actually home to protect their star trick rider, Carolina Cruthers, from her ex. Keeping an eye on the spunky blonde isn’t a problem. Keeping things professional? That’s getting harder every day.Though Caro feels safe with Chance, she knows getting involved with her boss would be a bad idea, never mind dragging him into her messy past. But life on the rodeo trail draws them closer, and what started as a short-term arrangement suddenly feels anything but temporary. Can Chance convince Caro that they should team up forever?







In July 2016 HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE will become HARLEQUIN WESTERN ROMANCE. Same great stories, new name!

A PROMISE TO PROTECT

Under the guise of taking over the family’s rodeo act, former Army Ranger Chance Reynolds is actually home to protect their star trick rider, Carolina Cruthers, from her ex. Keeping an eye on the spunky blonde isn’t a problem. Keeping things professional? That’s getting harder every day.

Though Caro feels safe with Chance, she knows getting involved with her boss would be a bad idea, never mind dragging him into her messy past. But life on the rodeo trail draws them closer, and what started as a short-term arrangement suddenly feels anything but temporary. Can Chance convince Caro that they should team up forever?


“Let’s practice some more.” Chance offered Caro his hand.

She nodded, her blond hair falling over one shoulder as she took his hand. He pulled her to her feet. In a moment she was up against him again.

Damn.

If she had any idea how it tortured him to have her back up against him like she was, well, suffice it to say, she’d probably call off the rest of their self-defense lesson.

“Remember,” he said into her ear. “Step, wedge, thrust.”

He didn’t give her time to comment, just wrapped an arm around her. She didn’t hesitate this time, shoving her leg between his own, thrusting back, using such force that he didn’t have to fake falling down.

He loved the way her eyes lit up with triumph.

“That was easy.” She grinned.

“Let’s do it again.”

It was all he could do not to lean down and plant his lips on hers.


Dear Reader (#ulink_ec961cb1-0b9f-5029-8628-eb4dc9b33db1),

Many years ago I decided to try trick riding. Problem was, I didn’t own a horse. No matter. The local rancher had a few trusty steeds and so I figured I’d ride one of them. Using a giant oak tree as a perch, I waited patiently for a horse to wander beneath me. When the moment was right, I flung myself atop the horse’s back.

I rode for about 1.9 seconds.

Actually, I bounced…and bounced…ever closer toward the rear, and then I catapulted into the air. I did not, however, bounce when I hit the ground. I ached for days.

It was worth it.

That moment fueled a lifelong passion for horses. I never did make it into the trick riding arena, but I am proud to call a few of those riders my friends. Every time I watch them perform, I am left breathless. I hoped to capture that breathlessness in The Ranger’s Rodeo Rebel.

Trick riders are tough. My heroine, Carolina Cruthers, is tough, too, but not when it comes to relationships. My hero, Chance Reynolds, is exactly the kind of man she tries to avoid: bossy, bold and just a tad bit too handsome for his own good. Fate draws them together and forces Chance to act as Carolina’s bodyguard. Together they learn that sometimes even the strongest individuals need a little help.

I hope you enjoy The Ranger’s Rodeo Rebel. As always, it is my fondest hope that readers will laugh and cry when they read my books. I hope I’ve succeeded.

Pam


The Ranger’s Rodeo Rebel

Pamela Britton




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


With more than a million books in print, PAMELA BRITTON likes to call herself the best-known author nobody’s ever heard of. Of course, that changed thanks to a certain licensing agreement with that little racing organization known as NASCAR.

But before the glitz and glamour of NASCAR, Pamela wrote books that were frequently voted the best of the best by the Detroit Free Press, Barnes & Noble (two years in a row) and RT Book Reviews. She’s won numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and a nomination for the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award.

When not writing books, Pamela is a reporter for a local newspaper. She’s also a columnist for the American Quarter Horse Journal.


For Josey Lynn and Bobbie Stone, two of the most amazing trick riders in the rodeo business, and women I’m proud to call my friends.


Contents

Cover (#u92d651f6-18ff-5202-b72c-4a94488440c4)

Back Cover Text (#u2add26ed-2d77-54ad-bdd9-0841b4b06962)

Introduction (#u00480324-2f6a-5331-b894-2fd227a5ca01)

Dear Reader (#ucd98133f-0c30-5fdc-90cf-9ceeed4a52e4)

Title Page (#u901546f2-fec0-5211-8dd0-140dd352a9f9)

About the Author (#u007e53b2-8250-59b1-b436-63213c47e13f)

Dedication (#uf727e1b7-ff7f-5be5-a6f4-9f23511a820a)

Chapter One (#ucb194b7b-e6d7-5806-95a2-c21355862d09)

Chapter Two (#u3b1fdee7-4b3e-5203-af7a-36807180d9db)

Chapter Three (#ud231b60d-e4ac-5b55-ac5c-c02106ab3f60)

Chapter Four (#u268ba3db-bfbf-5d6c-8131-40bfba353abc)

Chapter Five (#u529560d8-4b4a-584f-8a34-4e275b04a061)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_62968f4e-861f-5c23-841e-63c017c33f88)

It had turned into the day from hell.

“Come on.” Carolina Cruthers patted the pockets of her jeans one last time. “Please tell me I didn’t do what I think I did.”

But her denim pants didn’t hold the keys to her truck any more than her hands did, which meant she’d either lost them in the barn or they were somewhere inside her truck.

Dang it. She peered quickly around the parking area of Misfit Farms, her blond braids nearly slapping her in the face. The bright afternoon sun turned the farm’s newly installed fence the same color as the new cars on Via Del Caballo’s main drag: pristine white.

In truth, Carolina had no idea why she bothered to look around. She knew she’d dropped her keys somewhere in her truck. She’d done it enough times the past month it was a sure bet. Nobody would come to her rescue, either. Today was Monday. Misfit Farms was closed to clients and visitors. This was the day when she and her boss, Colt Reynolds, reviewed rodeo business. They had talked about their specialty act this morning, the upcoming schedule and any changes they needed to make after their weekend performance. Her boss had left earlier along with his wife, Natalie. There was nobody walking around the state-of-the-art horse facility.

Now what? She cupped her hands and peered through the truck’s window. Her keys weren’t in the ignition, so they were most likely—

On the floor.

Yep. Just beneath the edge of the driver’s seat, glinting in the sun, sat the horseshoe charm Colt and Natalie had gotten her for Christmas. The charm lay on the black mat of her truck as if making fun of her dilemma. Lucky. Yeah, right.

She’d done it again. She’d locked her stupid keys in her dang truck. This was...what? The third time in the past month? And all because of...

James.

The reason for her absentmindedness settled into the pit of her stomach like a load of cement. She probably had a million texts on her phone right now, the same cell phone tucked inside her purse, the one resting on the bench seat in the rear of her vehicle.

Think.

She picked up a braid and absently started chewing—a habit of hers. Colt and Natalie wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. That meant it was just her with no cell phone and no access to a landline unless the barn office was open or she broke into her boss’s house. If that was the case, there was a phone upstairs in the abandoned apartment above the barn. Abandoned...but not for long.

That had been the other piece of news that had rattled her. Her boss had decided to stay home the rest of the season. Colt was putting his brother in charge of their rodeo specialty act. Chance Reynolds was the guy’s name. A man who’d been out of the business for years. And yet Colt thought he’d be better suited to take over. Not fair. She’d been around longer. She’d put in years of blood, sweat and tears, not with Colt and the Galloping Girlz, but with another team. She’d even taken over when her friend Samantha had decided to run off with her movie-star boyfriend. Why Colt had decided to put some former Army Ranger in charge was beyond her, but it had seriously bummed her out.

Keys, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t be able to go home and sulk unless she found her keys.

The walk to the main barn was a short one. The horses in the stalls hung their heads out to greet her. Hanoverians, Trakehners and other imported warm bloods mixed with the occasional Thoroughbred. They peeked at her curiously, ears pricked forward as if asking, “Food?”

“Not yet, guys,” she said.

Carolina kind of understood why Colt had decided to sit out the rest of the rodeo season. His wife, Natalie, a famous hunter/jumper rider, with a waiting list of people wanting to train with her, was about to have a baby. The doctor had recently grounded her. Colt wanted to be around to help with the baby when it came. Someone needed to keep riding all the horses, and that was Colt. Carolina didn’t blame him. She just couldn’t stand the idea of some flatlander telling her what to do. It made no sense.

At the far end of the barn, near a patch of sunlight that nearly blinded her, was the office, its fancy French doors closed. She said a silent prayer heavenward and turned the handle.

It didn’t move.

She rattled it some more, just in case, jiggling the door so hard dust fell from the sill above. The door wouldn’t budge. Okay, fine. Up to the apartment she would go. No big deal. When she got home she’d pour herself a big glass of wine. Maybe even take a bath. It’d been forever since she’d had one of those.

The stairs to the apartment were outside at the back of the barn. It was a steep climb that had her heart thumping from the exertion of taking the steps two at a time, but her reward was a door handle that slid down easily. Carolina released a breath of relief and all but dived for the phone.

A man stood in front of her.

A tall man with black hair and green eyes and a face that resembled her boss so much she knew in an instant who he was.

Chance Reynolds.

And he was naked.

* * *

HE SHOULD MOVE, Chance thought, standing in the living area of his new home. He should, but he couldn’t seem to make himself, because there was something so incredibly priceless about the look on the woman’s face.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so—”

The rest of what she’d been about to say was lost in her mad scramble to run away.

You would have thought he was naked. As he glanced down at himself he admitted she probably thought exactly that. He wore military-issue underwear that happened to be the same color as desert sand. In other words: nude.

“Hey, wait,” he shouted. He grabbed the jeans he’d thrown over the back of the small couch.

“Really.” He ran and tugged, ran and tugged, hopping and skipping as he headed for the door. The woman was already at the bottom of the steps by the time he poked his head outside, his pants still open at the zipper. “Stop.”

She paused with her hand still on the rail. “I’d like to borrow your phone,” she said without making eye contact.

“Hold on.” He zipped up his jeans and glanced back inside his apartment for a shirt. He’d been extremely sleep deprived when his brother had dropped him off at three this morning, and he wasn’t sure where anything was. His bag sat by the door, but he saw no sign of his shirt, not even on the floor of the tiny kitchen to the left of the door.

“Seriously,” he called. “Come back up. I’m dressed.”

She slowly faced him, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. When she peeked up and noticed he was shirtless, she immediately glanced away, her face turning red.

He laughed. “All right, I’m half-dressed.”

“I just need to use the phone,” she repeated.

“Feel free.” The woman with twin blond braids took a deep breath, apparently weighing her options. Chance didn’t mind. It gave him the opportunity to study her. She was slight of build and wearing jeans and a black shirt that hugged her curves and displayed the narrow width of her waist. He had a pretty good idea who she was. Carolina Cruthers. He’d seen her picture on his brother’s website. Trick rider. His new employee.

She must have made up her mind, because she slowly climbed the stairs, her boots clunking up the wooden steps, the sound echoing off the roof of the covered arena a few dozen feet away.

“Need to call a tow company,” she muttered on her way by.

He swung the door closed behind her. “If you’re having car problems, I can take a look.”

“No, thanks.” She’d clearly been to the apartment before, because she walked straight to the phone in the kitchen.

“Thanks.” She turned away from him, dialed a number. “Hi,” he heard her all but whisper into the white handset. Curious, he followed her. Her gaze met his and she half turned away. “This is Carolina Cruthers. I—” She slapped her mouth closed and, judging by the way her full lips pressed together, she wasn’t happy about what someone said on the other end. “Actually, yes, I did.” She lowered her voice even more. “I’m at work.” She gave an address, one he instantly recognized as his own. Well, it’d been his when he was a kid, growing up on Reynolds Ranch. He still owned fifty-plus acres to the east, part of his inheritance when his dad died. One day he would build there, but for now, he was ensconced in his brother’s fancy barn.

“I’ll be waiting.” She hung up, lifted a hand in apology. “Sorry to bug you.”

“How long before they get here?”

Her eyes dipped down, but not before he spotted the way they lingered on his chest. He supposed he should feel self-conscious standing in front of her half-naked, but he hadn’t spent the last eight years of his life in the military, four of them as an Army Ranger, without learning how to be comfortable in his own skin.

“Half hour, they said. Maybe more.”

“Locked your keys in your truck again?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he caught his first good look at their color. Light blue. The color of the sky first thing in the morning. The ring around the pupils so dark it made the lightness stand out. Some men might find her twin braids, worn jeans and dirty boots attractive, but he liked his women far more feminine.

“I guess Colt told you about me.”

He’d been told the woman had been through a lot. He scanned her arms and her face. No sign of the bruises his brother had mentioned. He did notice, though, that for someone who tried to project toughness, she had a very fragile-looking face. Tiny chin. Small nose. High cheekbones, and skin as pale as the fresh snow that sometimes fell in the desert.

“He told me you were in a spot of trouble.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she said before tipping her chin up. “Thanks for letting me use your phone. I’ll wait outside.”

“No need.” He spotted his shirt on the floor near the couch, up next to the wall. He must have shed his clothes on his way to bed. “Sit down and relax.”

The words brought to mind a different image, one that had no business slipping into his thoughts, especially given what she’d just been through. Especially given where he’d just come from. Behind enemy lines. Fighting insurgents. Trying to survive. He still couldn’t quite grasp he was home again.

Home to babysit the woman in front of him.

Because that’s what it boiled down to. Truth was, his brother had been worried about his rodeo trick rider. Really worried. Concerned enough that he’d put Chance in charge of the rodeo act. Carolina had been acting funny, too, Colt had told him. Like locking her keys in her truck and forgetting portions of her routine. His brother had a feeling there was more to the breakup with her ex than she let on. He was pretty sure she was being stalked, not that she’d tell anyone anything. Typical cowgirl. They thought they could handle anything without a man’s help.

“Thanks, but that’s okay.” She took a deep breath, and though she was tiny, she tried to make herself look ten feet tall by standing up straight. “I can wait outside.” She turned to leave.

He cleared his throat. “I bet I can open the door of your truck long before a tow service gets here.”

She paused with her hand on the door. “No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can.” Breaking into vehicles had been part of his military training. That, and a few other things she didn’t need to know about. “Sixty seconds, maybe less.”

“You think?”

“Just give me a knife.”

“A knife?”

“That’s all I need.”

She didn’t look convinced. “There’s some utensils in the kitchen drawers, I think, if you really want to give it a try.”

Try? Army Rangers didn’t just try. They did.

He moved forward. “Chance Reynolds.”

She wiped her palms on the front of her jeans before saying, “Carolina Cruthers.” She shook his hand.

She couldn’t take her eyes off his chest, and the sight of her blushing, embarrassed and so clearly uncomfortable, gave him an odd sort of pleasure. It shouldn’t. He wasn’t back in the States to get involved with anyone. In a short time, he’d be back over there—the Middle East again—as a private contractor. Besides, relationships with cowgirls weren’t his thing. He’d gone that route before, during his high school rodeoing days, but they were too independent for their own good. Drove him nuts.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” She backed away, spun and exited the door like a horse bolting for the barn, which he supposed in a way she was.

Carolina Cruthers.

He tasted the name on his lips. She wasn’t what he’d expected at all. The Carolina from the website had looked pretty enough, but he’d figured she’d be loud and crass and obnoxious. A cowgirl in overalls, a cowboy hat and with a piece of straw hanging out of her mouth. This Carolina was shy and innocent and, yes, pretty.

And as he listened to her feet fly down the steps, he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing...or bad.


Chapter Two (#ulink_550c62f5-65bc-5c9a-92d1-63c2353ad10d)

Please let him find a shirt. Please let him find a shirt. Pleasepleasepleaseplease.

“You ready?”

She jumped.

He stared at her with concern. “Easy there, sparky.” He smiled, his big strong jaw with its ridge of muscle along the bottom jutting out. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

He wore a shirt. Thank God he wore a shirt. But for some reason, the sight of him with clothes on wasn’t any better than the sight of him half-naked. Damn that Colt Reynolds. Why hadn’t he told her he’d come home? Then again, maybe he had. Maybe she’d been so distracted by James’s latest text she’d missed that tiny tidbit of information. It wouldn’t surprise her. Not that it mattered. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Chance Reynolds in the flesh. Something about the man made her want to melt into the ground. Maybe it was his eyes. Or maybe it was his height and the way his bearing and short hair had the stamp of a military man. He was taller than Colt. His face was shaped differently, too. Chance was one of those guys who could easily be in films, with his sweeping brows and thick lower lip. He had scruff on his chin, too, and along the ridge of his jaw, a stain of color that turned his tan skin a darker brown. She’d taken one look at him and turned as stupidly speechless as a starstruck teen.

“Sorry.” She forced a smile. “I’m a little jumpy today.”

He gave her a look that she didn’t quite understand, maybe because she had turned away too quickly. It had almost seemed like sympathy, although he had no reason to feel sorry for her...unless. Goodness, he didn’t know about James, did he?

“Here.” He headed toward her truck, holding what looked like a butter knife in his right hand. “Let’s get you squared away.”

He did know. Of course Colt had told him. Why wouldn’t he? One of his employees had come to him battered, bruised and scared. The cops had been called. James had been arrested. Any responsible employer would share that news with a new employee.

Not an employee. His brother.

Whatever. But Colt didn’t know about the threats that had been coming more and more steadily in recent weeks. She’d told no one about those except for law enforcement and her social worker. Having a boyfriend beat her within an inch of her life was enough. No wonder Chance looked at her so sadly.

She was sad.

Click.

The sound startled her. Chance had opened her truck door, and she had no clue how he’d done it.

“That’s incredible,” she said.

Movie-star man simply smiled. “You should see what I can do with a spoon.” He grinned, tossed the knife into the air and caught it by the handle like a ninja warrior. That’s what he looked like, his arms huge, muscled and toned. His chest had been pretty spectacular, too. He had a deep ridge between his two pectoral muscles, and beneath that, square-shaped mounds, each one smaller than the other. His skin had looked as soft as lambskin, and so toned and hard she’d flushed like a piece of fruit in the summer sun when she’d spotted him standing at the top of those stairs. She’d never had a reaction like that to a man before. Never.

Movie-star man stared at her oddly.

“Th-thank you so much,” she stammered. And now she couldn’t even talk right.

“You’re welcome.”

She hated that she found him attractive. She would be working with him. That should have made her feel depressed, not...titillated.

“I should call the tow company,” she said, shuffling past him, pulling her truck door open and reaching for her purse. Sad that she had the tow company’s phone number memorized. She grabbed her phone...and saw it.

Twenty missed calls. Thirty text messages.

Oh, dear Lord.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She couldn’t tell him what was wrong. This man was her new boss. The last thing she needed was to give him a bad impression by admitting how messed-up her life was.

“Is he stalking you?”

So he did know about James.

His eyes said it all. I know enough.

“Is he?”

She wanted to crumble. It made her so angry she fought back tears. She was not that woman, the one from some reality TV show who allowed a man to beat her and terrorize her and then crumbled at another man’s feet. She was strong. She could handle this. She could.

She was not her mom.

“Let me see your phone.”

She didn’t want him to look, and that killed her all over again, so much so when he reached for the phone she didn’t try to keep it away from him. It fell limply into his grasp.

“Wow.” He looked up from the screen. “Have you read these?”

She shook her head. What could she say? That she’d been too scared, and that had upset her all over again. How had it happened? How had she turned into such a complete loser? How had she followed in her mother’s footsteps?

James, she admitted. He’d beaten the confidence out of her.

“We’re calling the cops.”

“I called them already. Yesterday.” At least she’d found her voice again.

“And what did they say?”

“That they’d done everything they could. They talked to him. Warned him. I’ve filed for an emergency restraining order, but it’s not doing any good. He...” She swallowed. Why was this so hard to admit? “Follows me.”

He might even be outside the gates of Misfit Farms right now. He had been before.

“I’m taking you home.”

She straightened. “No. I can handle my ex.”

His expression was firm and implacable. “You don’t have a choice.”

“And you don’t have a vehicle.” She hadn’t seen one other than Colt’s big pickup truck.

“Colt said I could use his.”

“But then I’d have to leave my truck here.”

“I’ll take you wherever you need to go from here on out.”

“That’s too much.” She took a deep breath and repeated, “I can handle this.”

She could handle a fifteen-hundred-pound horse. Do tricks on them nobody in their right mind wanted to try. James was a scrawny human who liked to terrorize little women. She would deal.

“Look,” he said. “I wanted Colt to tell you this, but he was afraid you’d think he’d overstepped his bounds. Plus, I think he wanted to spare you the embarrassment.”

She tensed.

“The truth is, I’m not just your boss.”

She couldn’t move. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like what came next.

“I’m your bodyguard.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the reason why Colt put me in charge of his specialty act. Well, that and the fact my sister-in-law is pregnant and Colt plans to stay home with her soon. But while I learn the ropes, he’s asked me to keep an eye on you, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to do exactly that. Stay here. I’ll be right back with my brother’s truck.”

She shook her head, attempted to catch his sleeve, but he was already gone.

I’m your bodyguard.

Dear Lord in heaven.

Her humiliation was now complete.

* * *

“YOU REALLY DON’T have to do this,” Carolina said, smoothing down her blond pigtails.

“Actually, I do.”

His brother had filled him in on the situation last night. Told him about his idea, too, to put him in charge. It’d seemed stupid at first. He hadn’t ridden a horse in years, but Colt had insisted. The act didn’t involve riding, at least not on his part. It was all tricks from the ground, done by sleight of hand and verbal commands. The Galloping Girlz did the actual riding. All he’d have to do was learn the routine and keep an eye on the woman standing in front of him. A little woman. Someone easy to terrorize, by the looks of things.

“Where to?” he asked.

She didn’t seem happy, but when he opened the passenger-side door, she climbed in. “Do you know where the rodeo grounds are?”

“I think I do.” It’d been eight years, but he was pretty sure he could still find his way around.

“I live about a mile from them.”

Clear across town. Well, so be it. Those hadn’t been mild threats on her phone. They’d been a stream of vitriol so nasty he didn’t blame her for being distressed. If he’d had someone threatening to do those things, he’d be a little distracted, too.

“How long did you date this guy?”

She’d settled into her seat. “About a year.”

“Long time,” he observed, backing out of Colt’s parking spot next to a massive six-horse trailer with the name Rodeo Misfits on the side.

“Too long,” she added.

He cocked an eyebrow at her in question.

“I wanted to break up months ago, but I was...” She licked her lips.

“Scared,” he finished for her.

She nodded. “Turns out, I’m not the only woman he’s done this to. I felt like such an idiot when I heard that.”

He was about to put the truck in Drive, but something in her eyes stopped him. She had the air of a woman who’d seen something terrible, something she didn’t want to see again but that still haunted her soul.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You know, maybe you should move into the apartment above the barn. Just temporarily. Colt said I could have it, but I can bunk down with Colt or at my sister’s place down the road.”

She sat up in her seat. “No. I can’t do that.”

But the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He didn’t know the woman next to him, not really. His brother had told him a lot. City girl who’d grown up with a love for horses. She’d found trick riding relatively late in life: sixteen. She was twenty-six now, and his brother said she was good, doing tricks he’d never seen before.

Brave.

But not at this moment. He felt a keen sense of protectiveness. The same kind of urge he’d felt when he’d stumbled into a village of Afghans, scared, dragged into a war they didn’t want, kids crying, women terrified. Tore him apart. The urge to shield them and keep them from harm was one he had never ignored.

“Ready?” She met his gaze, peering up at him with an unblinking stare. “You can take me home. Nothing will happen, I promise. I can handle this on my own. Don’t make this a bigger deal than it already is.”

Because then you’ll give my ex the power. He read the words in her eyes. He understood that look, too. When he’d been fighting over there, he’d seen the same expression of resolve. They didn’t want the US military’s help. They wanted to be left alone to deal with things on their own. They wanted independence.

He couldn’t blame her for that.

“As long as you think you have it handled,” he said.

“I do.”

He nodded, and she faced forward again, so clearly relieved he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for her as he put his brother’s truck in gear and drove toward her home.

“Colt told me you’ll only be Stateside for a short time?”

He appreciated her attempt at conversation. For some reason, sitting next to her made him antsy. “Going to work for DTS—Darkhorse Tactical Solutions. Just taking a sabbatical while my sister-in-law finishes cooking her baby.”

She smiled. That was better. He liked that smile. It tipped the end of her nose up and made the corners of her eyes wrinkle. Pretty eyes. Blue as the desert sky on a winter morning.

“What will you be doing for them?” she asked.

“Typical contract work.” He glanced at her as he passed between the white fencing his sister-in-law insisted was de rigueur for the ranch. He had to admit, the place looked spectacular. When he’d first driven up, he’d been blown away by the changes made since his brother’s wedding. Huge barn. Covered arena. Irrigated pasture. Turned out, they’d been sitting on a gold mine and never known it—a natural aquifer supplied water to the ranch, as well as a few neighbors, for a price.

“I’ve always wondered what a military contractor does.” She smiled again. “I assume you’re not building houses.”

He shook his head. “We’re a security service. Mostly corporate executives, although we do escort the occasional civvy. Our job is to keep someone safe while they do business in war-torn towns.”

A blond brow arched. “Business? When there’s a war going on?”

“Yup. Sometimes it’s military business, sometimes it’s civilian business. The need for oil never stops, and billion-dollar corporations need protection for the people who work to bring the product to market. Plus there’s road reconstruction companies and real estate investors—”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. War or no, life goes on.”

She lapsed into silence, and he let her contemplate his words. A lot of people had no idea what it was really like in the Middle East. All they saw were the bits on TV. Five minutes of chaos followed by days, sometimes weeks, of normalcy. Well, as normal as life in a war-torn country could be. In those moments, people tried to get on with their lives, businesses tried to regroup and recoup. It wasn’t as if life stopped. The corporate machine kept moving.

“This is it,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “Turn here.”

He followed her directions, turning down a street with two-story apartment complexes on both sides.

“Thank you,” she said as he pulled up in front of her building.

“Not so fast.” He shut off the engine. “I’m walking you to your door.”

She shook her head, the twin braids sliding behind her shoulders. “There’s no need. He’s not there. If he was, we’d see his truck parked down the road.”

“Has he done that before?”

He saw her eyes flicker. “Not lately.”

He had a feeling that “not lately” meant not within the last few days. She might be putting on a brave face, but her eyes conveyed the pictures in her mind.

“I’m still walking you to your door,” he said, slipping out of the truck. “And I’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up around ten.”

Her forehead wrinkled as though she wanted to argue, but she nodded just the same and then slid out of the vehicle. She walked ahead of him as she crossed the tiny grass hill separating the road from the apartment complex.

“I’m the second one on the left,” she explained. “Bottom floor.”

Which was why they didn’t see it at first.

BITCH.

She stopped in her tracks. He did, too. Her front door had been shielded from their view by her neighbor’s tiny porch, the word that’d been spray painted in red only visible from a certain angle.

“Son of a—” She didn’t finish what she wanted to say, but there was no need. She froze, eyes wide, hands clenching and unclenching in...what emotion did he see on her face? Dismay? Disgust? Rage? Maybe a combination of it all.

“You’re staying with me,” he said firmly.

“Yes.” She turned to face him, and to his surprise, tears glinted in her eyes. The sight kicked him in the gut. “And I’ll stay at the ranch, too, if you don’t mind.”


Chapter Three (#ulink_3662a569-e252-577b-ae27-8e04b59ae6c5)

There was something completely mortifying about having to accept the help of a near stranger. Worse, she’d had to call her boss and tell him what had happened. Colt Reynolds had been completely kind, but then again, he always was. She’d never met someone with such a huge capacity to help people in need. In hindsight, it should be no surprise that his little brother was the same way.

Well, there was nothing little about him.

“You really don’t have to move in with your brother, though,” Carolina said, glancing behind them to make sure no silver 4x4 followed. So far, so good. No sign of James. “I can stay in my horse trailer. I do it all the time.”

“Does it have living quarters?”

“Well, no.” Not technically. She’d never been able to afford one of those big fancy trailers. Her own humble stock trailer was all she had in the world. That and her truck. “I converted the tack room into a space where I could sleep. It has a bed over the hitch and electricity for a portable stove. It works fine.”

“Does it have a bathroom?”

“Well, no—”

“A heater or air-conditioning?”

“No, but maybe I could live in the Galloping Girlz trailer? It has living quarters.” She paused. “Or maybe I can stay in Colt’s trailer?” Her boss had her dream trailer. Shower. Kitchen. Living area.

One day.

“Maybe, but we’ll need to use it on the weekends for rodeos.” He stared at her. “What are you doing to do? Move in and out every weekend? And before you suggest it, the trick-riding rig is out, too. There’s a perfectly good apartment at the ranch. You’re going to stay there and I’ll move in with my sister or brother. Capisce?”

She didn’t want to, but she nodded just the same. Carolina glanced at the neighborhoods they passed, her mind settling on one word: rodeo. James would follow her to one of them. She would stake her life on it, and there would be no way to avoid the man—not in a public place. Her stomach curdled thinking about it.

They passed the burger joint outside town, and she caught sight of a young couple facing each other in the gravel parking lot. The girl sat on the tailgate, a look of love on her face as she gazed into the eyes of the captain of the high school football team.

Okay, she had no way of knowing if that were true. Carolina looked away from the scene because it made her think of her own childhood. Had she ever really had one? There’d never been time to date anybody, much less a football player. She’d been too busy working two jobs and trying to graduate. She’d refused to flunk out like her mother. Carolina had been determined to do things differently, but look what it’d gotten her. The first man she ever dated had ended up being a complete psycho—just like the men her mom used to bring home. It was enough to put her off men for the rest of her life.

“I’ll move back into my old room at Colt’s,” Chance said, drawing her attention. “I don’t think they’ve completely babied it out. And they won’t mind, not once we explain the situation.”

Oh, yeah, sure. Explain that Carolina’s ex-boyfriend was even crazier than she’d thought. Great.

Do not start crying.

She inhaled sharply. Tears were for babies. She wasn’t one and she wouldn’t act like one, either. So what if she was in a spot of trouble with her ex? She’d deal with it. And she had help, she thought, glancing at her companion in the truck. Chance was much younger than her boss, at least five years, but clearly older than her. And while her boss was a handsome older man, Chance Reynolds wasn’t handsome. The former Army Ranger was drop-dead gorgeous. Like Tatum Channing, only with a way better body. She should know. She’d seen the whole enchilada.

Carolina!

“Have you lived here long?” he asked.

“My whole life.” She’d known who the Reynoldses were long before they’d known her. Their father was legendary in rodeo circles. A member of the Hall of Fame, a world-renowned horse trainer. She’d heard about the dark side of Zeke Reynolds, too. His infamous temper. His ghastly horse-training techniques. Even that he might have beaten the boys and their sister. She’d seen no evidence of it, though. Her boss never spoke ill of his dad, and when she’d brought Zeke Reynolds up one day, all Colt had done was shrug and repeat what Carolina thought—the man had been a legend.

“You go to the local high school?” Chance asked.

The only high school. “Via Del Caballo High.”

“Go, Chargers,” Colt sang.

She smiled. A rearing horse was the school’s mascot, and it was the reason why she’d gotten into horses, much to her mother’s dismay. Carolina had always been fascinated by them, but when one of the local cowboys had brought his horse to the football game her freshman year—in a foil and cardboard costume made to look like armor, of course—she’d been able to touch one for the first time. It’d been over for her ever since. Once she’d looked into those liquid brown eyes, her life had changed.

“You graduated a few years ahead of me,” she said. “I remember your sister, Claire. She graduated my freshman year. She always seemed nice.”

“My sister is the best,” Chance said. “Kills me what she’s been through.”

Cancer. Not Claire, her son. Leukemia. But they had it on the run, she’d heard.

“You’d never know there was anything amiss from meeting her.”

Claire Reynolds was her hero. A woman she could look up to, and she did. Natalie Reynolds, too. Natalie had been in a horrible riding accident before she’d met Colt. They’d told her she’d never walk again, and now look. By comparison, Carolina’s problems seemed small.

“Everyone has a cross to bear,” he said softly.

She gulped at the kindness and understanding in his eyes. She forced her gaze away and out the window. They were out in what Carolina used to call the boondocks back when she was growing up. The town of Via Del Caballo had faded into tiny ranches—or wannabe ranches, as Carolina called them—single-story houses surrounded by white fences and small arenas. She glanced behind them again. Still no 4x4 in sight.

“We’re not being followed,” Chance said.

She jerked around so fast her braids nearly hit her in the face. “How do you know?”

“Simple.” He glanced at her quickly, the line of his jaw so strong and masculine she swallowed. “I doubled back when we were in town.”

He had? Good heavens. She hadn’t even noticed.

“You should get in the habit of that, too,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Pick a street you know isn’t a dead end, one that will allow you to double back. If someone’s following you, they’ll take the same route, and you’ll know it’s a bad guy, because nobody’s going to do circles for no reason.”

She nodded.

“And don’t assume he’ll be in his truck, either.”

She glanced at him sharply, because that’s exactly what she’d been looking for.

“He could change vehicles.” He rested his wrist on the top of the steering wheel in a manner of complete ease. She supposed compared to driving in a war zone, her situation must seem like Disneyland to him. “And if you are being followed, don’t let on that you know. The worst thing you can do is speed up and try and outrun him.”

“What do I do?”

“Call 911. Or me. Head to the police station. The man’s not going to follow you there. Not unless he’s stupid.”

She hadn’t really thought about that. Yipes.

“If you aren’t paying attention,” Chance continued, “and you notice he’s followed you to the ranch, don’t worry too much. Just come on inside. He’s not going to come down our road, and if he does, I’ll take care of him.”

“What about Natalie’s clients? Or Claire’s? What if he somehow sneaks in thanks to them? What if he hides out or waits until I’m alone?”

Claire ran a canine rescue not far from where Colt lived. Natalie ran a successful horse-jumping business. There was no telling who might accidentally let James in—if it came to that. Carolina doubted he’d come after her like that, though. He was simply mad she’d turned him in. It made him feel like a big man to terrorize her. He was succeeding, and that made her angry all over again. No man should ever have that kind of power over a woman.

“I’ll have Claire call her clients tonight and explain what’s going on.”

Oh, great.

“I’ll ask Natalie to take precautions with her clients, too.”

So the whole family would now know what an idiot ex-boyfriend she had. Terrific.

BITCH.

Her skin prickled as she recalled the red color. She never would have thought he’d go that far. Now that some of the shock had faded, it made her furious. How dare he deface her property? Granted, it was just a tiny apartment, but she’d worked hard to get the place, and now her landlord would likely throw a fit—and she’d have to pay to fix it, too.

“It’ll be okay,” Chance said, patting her leg, which made her madder, because she wasn’t some little girl who needed a pat on the head—or the leg, as the case might be. She was a full-on adult who could take care of herself.

Then why are you glad a former Army Ranger is sitting next to you? And why are you grateful he’ll be with you tonight? And why does the sight of his hand on your leg make you all squirmy inside?

They were questions she refused to answer.

* * *

PRICKLY.

That was the word he would use to describe her. Chance pulled his brother’s black truck into its parking space and added the word to his list of stubborn, fiercely independent and dogged.

“Looks like your brother’s back,” Carolina said.

Colt and Natalie had matching trucks, except for their different colors, and they’d clearly returned from running errands. Chance hadn’t heard them leave this morning, which just went to show how completely wiped he’d been from his long journey home. It’d been an eight-hour hitch to Europe, then another eight across the pond. A quick stop on the East Coast, where he’d managed to snatch a nap in an empty hangar only to be headed out again less than an hour later. All told, he’d traveled for twenty-four hours. He’d gone straight to bed once he’d arrived home. Not that it’d helped. He was still bone tired.

“I’ll go in and talk to him,” he said.

“No. That’s okay. I can explain the situation.”

Yup. Independent.

He shook his head. “We’ll go in together.”

It was strange walking up to the house he’d grown up in. Strange and unsettling, in a way. Saying he’d had a bad childhood was like saying Abraham Lincoln had a bad night at the theater. His father had terrified all three of his kids, but he’d taken out his temper on Colt the most. His brother used to say their dad tried out his evil tricks on him first, then used them on Chance or Claire. As they’d gotten older, they’d gotten wiser, especially Colt. He’d taken to preempting their dad, but not always. There’d been times when none of them had been able to avoid the drunken fits.

And so as Chance turned the handle to the front door, he braced himself. He hadn’t been inside since his brother’s wedding, not even when he’d returned home last night, and he really wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Anyone home?” he called, though he knew there was. He took two steps and then stopped.

Where before there’d been a small sitting room and a room beyond, there was now open space. The wall he’d been thrown against as a twelve-year-old—after he’d dared to tell his dad he was too sick to walk to school—had been removed. The kitchen was still to his right, but the wall separating it from the sitting room had been removed. The whole first floor was open, and it felt so different that he instantly relaxed.

“We’re up here,” a female voice called. His sister-in-law, Natalie. “In your old room.”

He caught Carolina’s eye. She couldn’t seem to stop her gaze from moving around the room, as if she were in awe of the scope of the place, and maybe even a little intimidated.

“I’ll stay down here,” she said.

“No. Come up. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

He glanced around again. It was like a whole new home.

Maybe that was the point.

He glanced at Carolina. She clearly didn’t want to go, but he touched her shoulder and urged her forward. He could feel the tension beneath his hand as they headed toward the stairs on the left. The staircase was the one thing that hadn’t changed. The oak banister he’d tried to slide down still existed. His father used to make them march up those stairs when they’d been bad. Chance remembered looking up at the top landing, heart pounding...

Enough.

That was in the past. He was a different person. Not the frightened child who’d grown up with an abusive father. And this was a different house. Pictures of Natalie jumping the most amazing horses hung on the stairwell wall. Pictures of his brother, too, at rodeos and reining competitions. Pictures of Natalie’s protégée, Laney, in the winner’s circle. And in the middle of it all, a picture of the three of them, Colt, Claire and Chance, blown up big, and smiling. He was young. His mom held him in her lap, which meant his dad must have taken the picture.

“Is that you?” Carolina asked.

He jerked his gaze away from the image. “Yup.” He tapped the picture. “And Claire and Colt.” Not that anyone would need to be told. They all had dark hair. Only the eyes were different. Colt’s were hazel, Claire’s and his own eyes were green.

“You were so young,” she observed.

“Yes, we were.”

There had been good times, he reminded himself, heading the rest of the way up the stairs before she could ask any more questions. His trip down memory lane had started to sink his mood, and he refused to let his father have that kind of power over him. Not ever again.

“Hey, guys,” he said, stopping before his old room, first door on the left, a smile instantly lifting his lips. It looked as though a box factory had exploded.

“Hey, you two,” Natalie said, returning his grin somewhat sheepishly as she, too, peered around the room, her hands on her pregnant belly.

“How’d you sleep?” Colt asked with an equally wide smile, getting up from the floor and dodging some boxes. After Colt had finished thumping him on the back, he leaned back and clutched his shoulders. It was good to look into his brother’s eyes.

Chance chuckled. “I never made it off the couch.”

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “Just stripped down to my Skivvies and passed out.”

He glanced at Carolina. She had the same look on her face as someone who’d just discovered their zipper was down. He almost felt bad for her. Almost. He’d never been one to resist teasing a person.

“Lucky I wasn’t naked when Carolina here came bursting through the door this afternoon.”

“I didn’t burst,” she said, tipping her chin up before looking at his brother and his wife. “I thought the place was empty.”

“She knew I was half-naked and wanted a glimpse of my hot stud flesh.”

Carolina gasped.

“Chance!” his sister-in-law said. “Quit teasing her. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

He almost said that was the point, but held his tongue. The blush staining Carolina’s cheeks was adorable.

Adorable?

Best not to dwell on that too long.

“I’m glad he was able to help you out,” Colt said to Carolina. “Although I think you should start leaving a spare set of keys here.”

“I think you’re right,” she grumbled.

It was then that Chance noticed what his brother and sister-in-law were doing. “Wow.”

“Baby equipment,” Colt explained, going back to his position on the floor and picking up a screwdriver. “Changing table, crib, a new dresser that should have taken me ten minutes to put together.” He rubbed his jaw. “But it’s been a little longer than that.”

“Because he won’t listen.” Natalie’s blue eyes were clearly teasing.

“Why should I follow the directions?” Colt asked. “Obviously, they’re for dummies. We’re not dummies. I can figure it out on my own.”

Natalie tsked. “Said the man who built the chicken coop that fell down two days later.”

Colt shook his head, his eyes seeming to ask the question, can you believe her? But he smiled, and Chance had to admit, it was good to see. Colt had waited to join the army until Chance was old enough to get out of the house, too. Claire had already fled, married to Marcus, and so both he and Colt had left for the military together. The difference was that Colt had done only one tour, then returned home to nurse their ailing father—Lord only knew why—while Chance had stayed. Truthfully, the military suited him better. He loved how everything was black-and-white. He relished the camaraderie. The simplicity of being told what to do—and then doing it. His brother hadn’t had a good experience in the military, whereas Chance fit in like a foot in a boot. He couldn’t wait to go back, this time as a private contractor. More money for doing basically the same job, and a career he loved.

“So what can we do you for?” Colt asked, picking up a small square of wood.

Carolina had been quiet beside him, which struck him as odd. He doubted she was quiet very often, but she seemed to be waiting for him to explain.

“Carolina was wondering if she could sleep in the apartment instead of me.”

That stopped Colt. Natalie looked up from reading the directions. They both stared at Carolina with concern.

“Is he back?” Natalie asked.

Carolina nodded, and Chance watched as Carolina’s lids caught and held tears. Only she wouldn’t let them drop. She straightened her shoulders, clearly getting control of herself. Chance had to admire her for that.

“He left a message on my door,” she explained.

That was one way of putting it.

“Well, sure, you can stay anywhere you want,” Colt said, glancing at his wife, who nodded. “But where will you sleep?” he asked Chance.

“I was thinking at Claire’s place.”

“That’s too far away,” Colt said.

“You can stay here,” Natalie interjected. “I mean, if you don’t mind pieces of baby equipment and the smell of baby powder and new diapers.”

“I told you,” Colt said, “I’ll have it together in ten minutes.”

“That’s what you said ten minutes ago.”

“I hadn’t even started ten minutes ago.”

Another long-suffering sigh from Natalie. She caught Chance’s eye and smiled.

“I don’t mind sleeping in here,” Chance said. “I’ll bunk down on the floor, like we used to do when we were kids.”

Colt’s smile froze. So did Natalie’s when she glanced at her husband’s face.

They would hide from their dad under the bed, but before that, before their mom died, they’d played games. “You remember the time you couldn’t find Henry?”

A smile slipped onto his brother’s face. “I do.” His gaze encompassed his wife and Carolina. “My pet squirrel. I caught it out back. Stupidest creature that ever walked the earth. Afraid of everything. It must have figured out how to get out of the cage, because one day it was gone.”

“We never told Mom,” Chance said.

“Nope. Then one day, Chance hears something under his bed.”

“Only at night,” Chance added. “Thought it was a mouse.”

“But it was Henry, and it took us days to catch that damn squirrel again.”

That was back before their mom died, back before they’d found her—

Okay, enough. This was part of the reason why he’d come back. He needed to put the ghosts of Christmas past to rest, just as Colt had done.

“We never did tell Mom,” Colt said, smiling at Carolina. “She used to get so mad at us for bringing whatever creature we found outside into the house. Remember the lizard?”

Chance grinned. “You mean the one I left in my pocket and that crawled up Mom’s arm when she went to do the laundry?”

They both laughed, and Chance caught Natalie staring at them wistfully, a smile on her face, too. “It’s good to hear you two reminisce.”

“You should have heard our mom shriek,” Chance said.

“But she laughed about it,” Colt added.

One of the rare times she’d laughed.

“Anyway,” Chance said, forcing the memories away. “I already took Carolina home to get some of her things, so I’ll just help her settle. Grab my stuff, too. Move in here.” Not that he had a whole lot. Just a bag.

“Have at it,” Colt said. “But when you’re done, I’ll expect some help assembling this mess.”

“Hey, wait.” Natalie frowned. “What is this? He can help you, but I’m not allowed?”

Colt scooted toward his wife and rested a hand on her belly. “Because you’re pregnant and you should be resting while I do the manly work.”

Natalie smiled, the look of love on her face prompting Chance to back out of the room and call out, “Have fun.”

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and he realized he’d forgotten to talk to Natalie about her clients. Oh, well, he’d do it later. Gushy, mushy love always made him uncomfortable. That kind of stuff wasn’t for him. He had more important things to do.

“Ready?” he asked Carolina.

She sighed, her pretty blue eyes filling with determination. “As I’ll ever be.”

Attagirl.

Earlier, when she’d been about to cry, he’d had the damnedest urge to pull her into his arms and hold her tight. He’d wanted to console her and let her know he would protect her.

No chance of that ever happening, he told himself. No chance at all. He wasn’t stupid. Touching Carolina might be a little different than touching other women. He had no idea why that was, but he always listened to his instincts. His instincts told him to keep clear of Carolina Cruthers.

And he planned to heed them.


Chapter Four (#ulink_32810955-b6a9-53cc-bf4b-f33428d6cefd)

It was ridiculously easy to settle into Colt and Natalie’s apartment, given that Carolina’s tiny two-bedroom apartment had been her home for the past year and a half. Easy, and if she were honest with herself, a relief. No sign of James and no more worries about surprise visits in the middle of the night. Not unless James broke through the iron gate blocking the driveway of Reynolds Ranch and then walked more than two miles to the riding facility. She doubted he’d ever do that, and if he did, they’d see him coming. The only fly in her ointment was her new boss.

Chance Reynolds.

It was as if her thoughts had summoned him.

“Knock, knock?” he called from the other side of her apartment door, adding a rap from his knuckles while she stood in the kitchen, frozen.

Crud.

She was still in her pj’s, a gray pair of sweats that hung loose around her waist and had a big hole in the knee. And the T-shirt she wore doubled as a nightie. No bra, either.

“I’ll be right there,” she called out, making a beeline to the bedroom. Someone had recently decorated the room in a horse motif. She dived beneath a brown-and-black bedspread with a Western star in the middle to find her bra, which she’d apparently ditched atop the bed last night. She felt every second tick as she slipped the thing on, then ran a hand through her loose hair, hoping she looked presentable as she headed to the door.

Presentable? Why? asked a little voice.

She wasn’t going to think about that and pasted a smile on her face as she opened the door. “Chance. Hey.”

He seemed amused as he eyed her up and down, although what it could be she didn’t know. The baggy sweats? Or the messed-up hair? Crud. She hoped her makeup didn’t look as if it belonged on The Walking Dead. She hadn’t even thought about last night’s mascara leaving streaks beneath her eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

Chance slipped past her, and she ducked back to avoid him touching her.

And there it was.

Attraction. She might as well admit it. Chance Reynolds was more handsome than her boss’s good friend Rand Jefferson, a man who played Hawkman in the movies. Whereas Rand had the muscular build of a Greek statue, Chance was more athletic. More Captain America than Hawkman. She much preferred that.

“What’s up?” She followed him to the kitchen, where he set down a brown duffel bag, clearly a relic from his past.

“I brought you some presents,” he said. “The kind that might save your life.”

She caught a glimpse of what was in his bag, something wicked looking and clearly meant for self-defense. “What kind of weapons do you have in there? I really don’t like guns.”

“No guns.” He held up what looked like an electric razor.

She crossed her arms in front of her. “What am I going to do with that? Shave him to death?”

“Huh?” He glanced at the device in his hand. “Oh. No. It’s not a razor.” He pressed something on the front. An electronic charge crackled through the air. “It’s a Taser.”

She straightened in surprise. She’d been thinking about getting one of those.

His smile should be obnoxious this early in the morning. What was it? Seven? But it wasn’t obnoxious. It was adorable. He was clearly proud of himself.

“Where did you get it?”

“That’s not all I got.” He set the Taser down on the table. “There’s this, too.” He held up a can with a bright red lid. “Pepper spray. There’s two kinds. The industrial size.” He reached into the bag again. “And the key-chain size. Easier to hold when you’re walking alone at night.”

Not that she planned on walking anywhere alone. Her curiosity got the better of her, though, and she moved up next to him, fingering the Taser.

“I got it from a friend of mine,” Chance said. “Owns a karate studio, but he sells these on the side. Speaking of that, we should teach you some moves. Basic self-defense stuff. You never know when you might need it.”

“Brass knuckles?” she said, holding up a feminine version. They’d been painted pink.

He shrugged. “Hey, sometimes simple is best, but I’d have to teach you how to punch in order for them to be effective.”

No, thanks. The thought of him touching her in any way, shape or form was...disturbing.

“What’s this?” She held up a nasty-looking object with prongs.

“That’s the big daddy.” His smile was pure, childish delight. “You see these? You can shoot them at your assailant. It’s a Taser, too, but it’s the kind the police use. Really high voltage. Knock your guy to the ground. The other one is more of a deterrent. It’ll hurt like hell, but it won’t knock someone to the ground.” He took Big Daddy from her. “This one will do some damage.”

She didn’t know whether to be amused or repulsed by his enthusiasm, although she wished she’d had some of these items before. Some of her amusement faded.

“How about this one?” she asked, spying another small can of something.

“Horn. Blow it if you feel threatened. Usually that’s enough to scare away most assailants.”

She pursed her lips and moved on. “And this?”

He seemed disappointed. “That’s just a flashlight.”

Her smile returned. He set Big Daddy on the table, eyeing the smorgasbord of self-defense with a self-satisfied expression.

“What do you think of this?” He held up a key chain in the shape of a cat. “Isn’t it cute?”

“Yeah.” She studied it. “What does it do? Unfold into a ninja star or something?”

He shook his head. “You hold it like this.” He placed the cat in his hand, the points of the ears sliding in between his fingers so that they stuck out from between his knuckles. “Instant shish kebab.”

“Nice.”

Clearly, it was one of his favorites, at least judging by his small chuckle. “Which one do you like?” he asked.

She followed his gaze, studying the things he’d brought. She should be pleased he hadn’t brought her a gun, although she wouldn’t be surprised if that weren’t in her future, too.

Carolina fingered the big can. “How badly does the pepper spray sting?”

“It’s nasty. He’ll be blind for hours.”

She jerked her hand back. “Blind?”

He dismissed her concerns with a wave. “Unable to open his eyes,” he added quickly, “but that’s only if you point it at his face. Which you should, but if you don’t, it burns the skin, too.”

“I see.”

“What smells so good?” he asked with a sniff of the air and a mercurial change of subject.

She smiled. “Coffee. Freshly made. Would you like a cup? It’s hazelnut flavor.”

“Got any food?”

Food? “I, uh. Well, yeah. I have eggs and bacon.”

“Perfect. I’ll whip us something up while you look things over.”

“Wait.” What? “You don’t have to cook.”

“I don’t mind. I’m used to fending for myself, remember. You should really pick up and handle the items I brought over. Get a feel for them.”

And that was how she found herself staring after him in surprise as he opened up her fridge. She huffed in resignation.

While Chance cooked breakfast, Carolina touched each self-defense mechanism. She sighed quietly. Maybe it was his kitchen. He was the one that should have been living in the apartment. But as she picked up each of the items, she remembered how Colt’s sister had told her about the time her fiancé had made her breakfast while her son was really sick. They hadn’t been together back then. It’d just been a kind gesture. Carolina remembered thinking she’d never find a man to do something so nice. Despite women’s so-called liberation, the men she’d been dating reverted right back to the Stone Age. Women did the cooking, cleaning and laundry. And yet here she was, watching the most gorgeous male she’d ever seen flip eggs in a pan like some kind of master chef.

She wanted to kiss him.

Not because she hoped to start something, but because she was so very thankful for his concern. She might have been annoyed and humiliated yesterday to learn her boss wanted him to be her bodyguard, but she’d thank Colt later when she saw him. The worry and fear that James would come back were gone. And now she would have some form of protection. All in all, things were looking up—thanks to Chance.

“So, what did you decide?” he asked, setting down a plate of heavenly smelling eggs and bacon in front of her. “Which one do you want?”

“Well, it’s a toss-up between Hello Kitty the weapon and the pepper spray.”

“Take both.”

She didn’t know why she felt self-conscious as she touched the cat-shaped weapon, but she did. She set it down, unable to resist digging into her breakfast. But as she lifted her fork, she suddenly took great care not to get any on her lips because for some reason she felt terribly exposed.

“I can’t afford both, I’m sure,” she said, making sure she didn’t chew with her mouth open or something.

“You don’t have to pay for them. They’re gifts. From me.”

“I can’t accept them.”

He was busy gobbling down his own breakfast. “Sure you can,” he said between swallows. “I get all this stuff at cost. Part of my new job. I’ll be outfitting my clients with these types of weapons.”

She lifted the bacon to her lips, spotted him watching her again, and her cheeks heated up. Why was he staring at her? She took a bite and then set the bacon down, even though she just about groaned at how good it tasted. Golly, the man could heat up a room with the look in his eyes.

“Still,” she said. “I don’t want to take advantage. Even at cost, I doubt I could afford any of it.”

He didn’t say anything, and when she finally got the nerve to look up at him, she noticed the most bizarre expression on his face.

“What?” she asked.

He rubbed his chin. “Ah. Yeah. Like I said. I’ll take care of it. You can pay me back slowly if you want.”

“Chance—”

“No arguments,” he interrupted. “This is your safety we’re talking about. You need to be prepared.”

She couldn’t argue that point, so she continued eating her breakfast, feeling his gaze upon her all over again. Man, she wished he’d stop watching her.

“Thank you,” she said once she finished.

“You’re welcome,” he said, shooting up suddenly with his plate in hand.

“I’ll wash that.”

“No. That’s okay. I’ve got it. Here. Give me yours.”

She handed him the empty plate. He hurried to the sink and, sure enough, washed her dishes for her. As she sat in her chair, she stared at the weapons and wondered why she’d never been able to find a man like Chance. Just her luck he was leaving for the Middle East in a short while. And that he was her boss’s brother. And that he knew about James and so probably had a low opinion of her life choices. So if that was a spark of attraction in his eyes, she knew he’d never act on it.

“Thanks,” she said, standing.

He grabbed a rag and dried his hands, but when he met her gaze, he seemed to freeze.

“I mean it, Chance. You’ve really taken a load off my mind. I’d been thinking about getting some pepper spray. Now I don’t have to worry. And if I get in a bind, I have Ninja Kitty to poke James’s eyes out with.”

He didn’t say anything, but then seemed to nudge himself back to life, tossing the towel he held to the counter. “Protecting people is my job.”

Something about the way he said the words made her tilt her head. He seemed upset, as if he were disappointed in something...maybe her?

“I should get going,” he said, moving past her.

“Chance, wait.”

It was one of those moments when you call someone back and you don’t know why. When you know you want to say something, but you don’t know what. When words form, only to be immediately discarded. She’d already thanked him.

“I’ll ask Colt to take what I owe you out of my next paycheck.”

He nodded. “Whatever.” He slipped out the door.

What had she done? Something had definitely soured his mood. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Only after he left did she realize he’d left all his weapons behind.


Chapter Five (#ulink_a163a9f6-d99f-573e-a05d-4201e5f8b822)

Three days later she was no closer to solving the riddle of Chance. They were slated to work together, and she was a little nervous. She watched him from a distance as he and Colt gave direction from the side of his trailer, which was parked in the middle of the arena. Colt had just taught Chance the part of the skit where Teddy stole the handkerchief out of Chance’s back pocket. Usually, the next part of the act was Teddy jumping in the trailer by himself. Only the horse had refused to load.

“I swear he’s like a petulant kid,” she heard Colt say as he gave the signal for Teddy to load up for the fourth time. A signal that was ignored. Teddy stood, handkerchief in his mouth, and any time one of the men approached him, he ran away. This, too, was part of the act, and when Colt told the horse to stop and to come to him—the last part of their act together—Teddy usually obeyed. Not today.

“He gets in these moods,” Colt said. “But he always performs when it’s for real. I’ve never had him duck out on me or nothin’. I swear he likes the applause.”

They were out of doors on a day so calm and clear it looked like a masterfully painted backdrop of a movie set: bright blue sky, puffy clouds that dotted the ground with their shadows, mountains in the distance. Carolina had once visited her friend Sam on location. They’d been filming a scene with her husband against a fake background so similar it felt eerie. The only difference today was they were surrounded by a carpet of green, not asphalt, and the emerald-colored grass was thanks to the irrigation system that was the envy of their neighbors—and made the ranch worth a small fortune. Colt had been offered a sweet deal to sell the place but had flatly refused. It was a family homestead, and he planned to keep it that way, or so she’d been told by Sam.

“He’s a character, all right,” Chance said.

“Teddy, knock it off.”

Carolina could hear the exasperation in Colt’s voice. Apparently, Teddy could, too, because he dropped the handkerchief and trotted over to Colt as if that had been his plan all along. “You nut,” Colt said, but he patted the horse’s neck and smiled.

Chance crossed his arms. “Okay, so normally the act ends with Teddy jumping in the trailer while the Galloping Girlz enter the arena, but you want to change all that, so what does it matter if he loads up or not?”

Colt nodded. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. I’m looking forward to jazzing up the routine. People have seen the old act a million times.”

Chance tipped his cowboy hat back, hands on his hips. It didn’t seem fair that a man who’d been off the ranch for almost a decade could look so good in a cowboy hat and jeans. But Chance did. Carolina wondered if the boots he wore had been his before he’d joined the army.

“You’ll get the hang of it. And Teddy will behave when you’re out on the road.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Colt waved for Carolina to come closer. “You ready to learn the new part?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said because she really didn’t want to work with Chance. After their breakfast together, things had changed. Sure, it was one-sided. She doubted he felt anything other than mild annoyance that he had to babysit her. But she had developed a full-blown crush. And they’d be working side by side—for hours.

Carolina slipped between the rails of the wooden fence, glancing at the covered arena on the other side of the barn. Lessons were in full swing. Carolina heard Natalie calling to one of her clients as she schooled her horse over a jump. Something about weight in the heels and keeping her hips open—whatever that meant. The smell of dust and a water-soaked pasture filled the air.

“All right,” Colt said. “Chance, you’re up first. I need you to try and swing up on old Teddy here without a saddle.”

Chance eyed the animal skeptically. “He doesn’t have a bridle on.”

“I’m aware of that, Chance,” Colt said, deadpan. “Perhaps that’s why I want you to climb aboard, so you can practice riding him without a bridle.”

The skin between his brows wrinkled. “Won’t he run off?”

“Just do as I ask, please.”

Chance studied the horse as if contemplating the odds of his brother’s request being a prank. Satisfied with what he saw, he moved forward. “You know, the last time you told me to do as you asked, you blew the toilet seat off with me on it.”

Colt chuckled. “This is different.”

Chance grabbed a hank of mane. He shifted around a bit, as if trying to recall the position he needed to be in to complete his task. With a deep breath and a giant heave, he threw his leg over the horse, slipped, and almost fell to his knees. He shot them both a grimace before trying again. To Carolina’s complete shock, he swung up the next time as if he’d been doing it his whole life, and maybe he had.

“Wow,” his brother said. “Impressive.”

All week long, Carolina had told herself there was no way Colt’s idea for a new routine would work, not when his brother hadn’t ridden in years. And yet there Chance sat, staring down at her triumphantly, looking as if he belonged on an old Western movie poster with his black hat and denim shirt. All he’d need was a black eye mask to be a Western hero like the Lone Ranger.

“Okay, that was easy,” Chance said. “What’s next?”

“Bill the Barrel Man. He’s going to play the part of bad guy.”

“Yeah, but he’s not here.”

“You’ll have to use your imagination.”

“I didn’t know that man was still around,” Chance said.

“Still going strong after all these years. We follow the same rodeo schedule, which is why this’ll work out great. He actually seemed a little excited about joining in on our routine. Said we can practice it when we’re at the rodeo this next weekend.” Colt turned toward the middle of the arena and pointed. “Bill’s going to be off on the sidelines dressed as Dastardly Dan.”

“Who?”

Colt waved away his brother’s question. “You’ll be just finishing up your act with Teddy. The Galloping Girlz will be announced. Carolina will ride in as if all is well. She’ll stand up on Rio’s back, only Bill will jump out of his barrel and grab her horse’s bridle or something. We’ll have to work out the details of that. I want it to look kind of like Pitiful Pearl.”

“Pitiful Pearl?” Chance asked.

His brother released a long-suffering sigh of impatience. “You know, like those old black-and-white movies without the sound. Overacted skit. Lots of arm waving and facial expressions. Caro will be perfect.”

“Caro?” Chance asked, eyeing her anew.

She had a hard time meeting his gaze. “It’s what my friends call me.”

He smiled wickedly. “I could be your friend.”

Oh, dear Lord in heaven.

He was teasing, she knew that, just as she knew his words shouldn’t affect her, not after everything she’d been through. Yet they did. The man was too gorgeous for his own good.

“Anyway,” Colt said, eyeing the two of them askance. “Caro will be pulled from her horse...somehow. I want you to swing up on Teddy and rescue her.”

“Rescue her how?”

“You know, ride up to her at breakneck speed, clasp her hand, then swing her up behind you. Like in the movies. Then you’ll ride back to the trailer and Caro will grab a rope. She’ll stand up on the back of Teddy and the two of you will set off, and she’ll rope Bill and drag him back to his barrel, or maybe out of the arena. I haven’t decided yet. And not really drag. He can sort of be walking, but pretending to fight you the whole time. We’ll have to see what looks best.” He turned toward his brother. “My biggest concern is your riding skills. We’ll need to work on them. It might take a while before you’re in the proper shape to lift Caro up from a run.”




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