The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel (11 page)

Chapter Thirteen

He knew.

The thought repeated in her head, the words keeping time with every painful step.

He knew...he knew...he knew.

She'd tried to hide her stupid teenage-like crush from him all week. She knew how dumb it was that she had feelings for him, had been hoping they would fade. And now look at her. Her experiment to prove to herself that touching Chance wouldn't be a problem had completely backfired and nearly broken both of their necks.

Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Those were the next words to keep time with her hops. She felt every hard, sinewy muscle as he helped support her steps. He smelled good. Like talc and pine trees with a hint of cedar.

“Almost there,” he said.

Thank God.

They entered the barn, their path barely lit by the light that illuminated the parking area. Horses stirred. Heads popped up. One of them even nickered softly.

“I hope we don't wake up Natalie and Colt.”

“We won't,” he said, his arm snug around her. “I know for a fact my brother sleeps like the dead.”

Why couldn't James have been more like Chance? Chance was the type of man who would do everything in his power to help the weak and infirm. And to protect those he loved. He had integrity, strength and kindness, and she doubted she'd ever meet another man like him.

And he would be gone in a short time.

She knew that. Accepted that. And yet...

Chance paused at the base of the stairway that led to the apartment.

“I can make it from here,” she said.

“Up those stairs?” She couldn't see his face all that well, but she could hear the determination in his voice. “Not a chance.”

He urged her forward, and together they took the steps one at a time. Caro was relieved once she stood in front of her door. “Okay, thanks. I'm good.” She tried to disengage from his arms.

“No. I'm going to take a look at your ankle in the light, get you some ice. Wrap it for you.”

Of course he would. He was a man who would take care of a woman, see to her needs. Not abuse her and give her bruises.

When she opened the door, Inga barked. Loudly.

“It's okay, Inga,” Carolina said, flipping on the light. Inga wagged her tail, a canine grin on her face. Caro wondered if the dog sensed the kindness of the man at her door.

“Kitchen,” Chance said. She hobbled over to the small table and chairs...and it was over. He no longer touched her. She no longer had to smell him and marvel at his strength and otherwise react like a sixteen-year-old girl.

“Ice first,” he said. “Set your foot on this chair.” He pulled one out for her, and she did as he suggested. “Let me see.”

His fingers brushed her ankle and she gasped, but not because of pain. A bolt of pleasure had zipped through her.

“Sorry,” he said.

She slumped in her chair. Her crush on him had gotten
worse
. She couldn't look him in the eyes. With his dark brows and five o'clock shadow, he was too handsome for his own good.

“It doesn't look too bad.” He gently turned her ankle. “Definitely swollen, though. You did something to it. Best to stay off it for now.”

He carefully set down her foot and headed for the fridge. This was worse. With his back to her, all she could think about was how wide his shoulders were beneath his black shirt. And when he bent to retrieve the tray of ice from the freezer, she noticed how tight his jeans were. By the time he'd finished making her an ice pack, she was as red as the bottle of ketchup in the fridge.

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

Just leave.
She couldn't take humiliating herself anymore. He obviously knew how he affected her, and yet he simply stood over her, staring.

“You going to be okay by yourself?”

No. She didn't want to be alone. She wanted him to be with her, but that was crazy and stupid and ridiculous. Not to mention, never going to happen. Men like him weren't attracted to women like her. They dated smart, beautiful women who ran triathlons and held down six-figure jobs. She was a lowly rodeo trick rider with a messed-up personal life and no family to speak of. Definitely not his type.

“I'll be fine.” She forced herself to look into his green eyes. “Thanks.”

He frowned, and she wondered if he knew how hard she fought not to grab his hand and pull him down toward her. She tried to hide her thoughts behind an impersonal smile.

“If you need anything,” he said, “let me know.”

“I will.”

He backed away, slowly at first, and then quickly, slipping through the door as if he could read every thought in her mind and as a result couldn't get out of there fast enough. He left her with Inga and her thoughts and a nearly overwhelming ache of pent-up frustration that had her leaning forward and covering her face with her hands.

She moaned.

This sucked.

* * *

H
E
SENT
N
ATALIE
to check on her the next day. Why? Because he was a chicken. A big lily-livered, ridiculous chicken who didn't want to face the soft plea in her eyes.

“She's okay,” Natalie said, a big smile on her face as she waddled into the kitchen. “A little sore, she said, but she's walking on it this morning. She told me to tell you she'll be good for this weekend's rodeo.”

The rodeo.

Never before had he dreaded something as much as he did his solo performance at the Jacksonville rodeo. Another long drive and a longer night spent keeping an eye on Caro.

“You okay?” Natalie asked, settling down behind the table, no mean feat given her size. Up until a few weeks ago, she'd hid her baby bump well. But she'd suddenly sprouted, the doctor grounding her from all riding activity, which was why she was in the house on a weekday morning, when normally she'd be outside getting the horses ready for a day's worth of riding lessons. His brother and Laney had taken over that task. His sister-in-law was officially on maternity leave.

“I'm fine.” He scrubbed a face over his hand. “Long night.”

She cocked a bright blond brow, and it occurred to him that she kind of looked like Carolina with her light hair and blue eyes. Carolina was smaller, though, which was good, given her profession.

“Riding at midnight,” Natalie huffed. “What were you thinking?”

He was thinking about privacy. About making an ass of himself without anyone watching. About being able to steer clear of Caro, but that hadn't worked out too well.

“It's easier to practice when no one is around.”

“You mean when nobody can watch you fall off.”

He nodded.

She might have teased him further, but Claire sailed through the front door. She carried a wiggling mass of black fur in her arms. Adam, his sister's son, was right behind her.

“You guys!” Adam yelled. “Youwon'tbelievewhat Ethanwantstodo.”

“Adam, slow down,” said Claire, smiling at them both. “They can't understand you.”

Adam slid to a halt. And Chance nearly laughed as his nephew slowly straightened, took a deep breath, then said slowly, “You won't believe what Ethan wants to do.”

“Better,” his sister said, her eyes twinkling.

“What does Ethan want to do?” Chance asked.

“Just a second. I need to set this four-legged maniac down on the ground.” The tiny Belgian Malinois made a beeline for Natalie.

“Bella!”

Natalie squatted and opened her arms. It wasn't easy for her to bend, but somehow she managed to scoop up the puppy. The excited pup made little snuffling sounds, licking her face and hands and any other available body part.

“I swear that puppy came out of the womb loving you.” Claire pulled out a chair next to Chance. “What's up, bro?” she asked, the smile on her face stirring emotions in Chance's heart. He'd never seen her so happy. Not when she'd been married to Marcus, and not before, when she'd been younger. Of course, they'd all had a rough start, but Claire had pulled through. His sister was blissfully in love with Ethan, and it showed.

“Chance is tired,” Natalie answered for him. “He was up at midnight practicing the routine.”

“Midnight?” Claire said, incredulous.

“Carolina fell off. Hurt her ankle.”

“Caro was with you?” Claire asked.

Chance didn't respond. He didn't need to, because he said to Adam, “Go on. Tell me your news. I can tell you're about to burst.”

“They were out there together,” Natalie said in a stage whisper.

“Ethan wants to start a wounded-warrior therapy program,” Adam said, glaring at his aunt, clearly wanting everyone's undivided attention. The look was so much like his sister's, right down to the black hair and green eyes, that Chance almost laughed.

Claire ignored her son. “Chance Reynolds. You could have killed that girl practicing in the dark.”

“She's fine.” He brushed off her concerns with a wave of his hand. “What do you mean, a wounded-warrior therapy program?”

His sister sat up straighter, and it was clear she didn't want to drop the subject of Carolina, but pride for her husband had won out. She ruffled Adam's full head of hair. A year ago, during his cancer treatment, he'd been as bald as a baby chicken. These days, it was hard to imagine his six-year-old nephew in the battle of his life.

“Ethan wants to open an equine therapy program for veterans,” Claire said.

“That's great.” Natalie beamed her approval.

“That
is
a great idea,” Chance said. He'd heard a lot of positive things about horses and their ability to help PTSD.

“And he said
I
could help,” his nephew all but sang, green eyes full of pride.

“Which is a good thing, since we all know how I feel about horses.” Claire's eyes were full of amusement.

Yes, he did know. Their dad had ruined riding for Claire, but at least she'd been mounting up more and more lately thanks to Ethan, who loved riding as much as the rest of family.

“I'll make some calls,” Chance said. “See if I can't help him out with funding and whatnot.”

“That'd be wonderful,” Claire said with a wide smile. “If you're not too busy with Carolina, that is.”

Claire and Natalie exchanged glances, and Chance found himself suddenly uncomfortable. So much so he stood to leave.

“Oh, no, you don't.” His sister pulled him back down. “We all know you have a thing for her.”

He blushed. Actually blushed. “I don't have a thing for Carolina.”

“Baloney,” Natalie said. She ruffled the fur on her puppy's head, smiling at that animal for a second before pinning Chance with a gaze. “We can see it in your eyes.”

“You like Carolina?” said Adam, tipping his head sideways, clearly curious in a you-like-pumpkin-pie kind of way.

“Not like that,” Chance lied, and then, as a way of changing the subject, asked, “How's Lady?”

“She's doing great,” Claire said. “Gonna wean the puppies next week, including that one.” She pointed to Bella. “Now tell us how long you've had a thing for Carolina.”

“So you
do
like Carolina?” his nephew asked, clearly confused.

He backed away. “I'm going to go see if Colt needs help saddling up the horses.”

“He likes her, all right,” Natalie said.

He ignored her, which clearly amused them all, especially when Adam asked, “Do you think he wants to kiss her?” The two of them laughed harder. Damn women.

But as he stepped out on the stoop, he knew he would miss them. He would miss all of this. Miss the mornings when the sun stained the grass the color of lemons. When that same sun lit the tree leaves a bright green. And when the earth smelled of sage, hay and horses. It would be hard to leave.

The realization struck him with the force of a runaway horse.

He'd never wanted to come back to this place. But his brother's insistence had changed his mind. As he looked around him, he understood that his brother had created something from nothing. The only thing recognizable about Reynolds Ranch these days was the old house behind him and the big red hay barn. Everything else—the arena, the new barn, the pastures—it was all different. Better. New.

A home.

He gulped, his stomach churning. Thankfully, the sound of a car coming up the drive distracted him from his thoughts. One of Natalie's clients, no doubt. First lesson of the day. She'd probably wander out soon. Her version of maternity leave was sitting in a lawn chair in the center of the arena schooling her clients. But the car didn't park out in front of the barn. No. It headed straight for the house. Unmarked police car.

His stomach dropped.

He could make out the image of a man inside. He wore a cowboy hat, which made Chance wonder if he were wrong. When the car door popped open and he caught a glimpse of the broad-shouldered man, he knew he'd been right. The man could be a spokesperson for the police officers' association.

“Is Carolina Cruthers here?” he asked. Late thirties. Brown hair and light-colored eyes. He wore a black polo shirt with a gold star on the front, jeans and cowboy boots.

“I'm right here.”

They both turned. Caro had appeared at the entrance of the barn, and Chance could tell by the way she played with a strand of her hair that she was nervous. Cops didn't make house calls, not normally, and that this one had could only mean bad news.

Chapter Fourteen

Caro's stomach muscles were stretched so tight someone could strum them like a guitar.

“Sorry,” she said, stepping aside to allow Officer Connelly inside her temporary apartment. Chance was right behind him. She'd insisted he join them for whatever news they were about to hear, especially since he'd taken on the task of bodyguard.

“Don't worry about the dog.” She motioned for Inga to stay. “She won't hurt you unless I tell her to.”

Officer Connelly didn't look convinced as he stared at Inga. Her new dog had the eyes of a predator, and they fixed on the new arrival, gauging whether he was friend or foe.

To give the officer credit, the dog's appearance didn't appear to intimidate the man. “Nice dog.”

“Gift from my sister,” Chance said. “Former military dog.”

“Yeah, I heard there was a rescue out here.” The tall man with the dark hair and light eyes looked around. She tried not to let her embarrassment show. She didn't plan on staying long, and so there was still just the couch, the bed, and the rickety old kitchen table and chairs.

“Inga,
sit
,” she told the dog when it appeared she would get up and investigate the new arrival. The dog instantly sat. “Let's go to the kitchen.”

The same place she'd sat last night when Chance...

Don't think about that.

“I'm sure you know I've come out here to talk about James.” Officer Connelly glanced between the two of them as he took a seat. He was a big man. Taller than Chance, and...thicker. Not fat. Just bigger through the shoulders, arms and legs. Like a prizefighter without the boxing gloves. “Your report to me on Monday made me curious.”

Caro's pulse pounded at her neck. She glanced at Chance, who seemed equally on edge.

“Men like your ex don't usually go to such lengths to get back at a woman. I'm not saying it doesn't happen,” he said with a quick look at Chance, almost as if he sensed Chance knew differently. “It's just not normal for them to follow someone out of town.”

Chance nodded. “That struck me as strange, too.”

Caro spread her hands on the table. “Do you believe me now? About him shooting at me?”

Officer Connelly had seemed a bit taken aback she'd reported the incident at the rodeo grounds. It'd almost been as if he'd been defending James, telling her he doubted someone would actually shoot at a horse and that she had to be mistaken. She'd left the police station disillusioned and depressed, especially when she'd learned the other police department had released James once he'd posted bail. But now here was Officer Connelly, and she wondered if she'd had it all wrong. Maybe he'd been playing devil's advocate.

“The fact that Mr. Edwards followed you out of town seemed a little extreme, but I never doubted it was possible. He's clearly stalking you. I started checking around. Went out and spoke to a few people.”

He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled until he found what he was looking for. When he did, he read drily, “April, two years ago, charged with assault, never convicted. And a year before that, different town, different assault, but same MO. Charges filed, never convicted. Why?” Officer Connelly stared at the two of them for a long moment. “That's what got me curious. Files said nothing. Just charges dismissed.”

“He scares them,” Chance speculated.

Officer Connelly's eyes flew up to meet Chance's. He seemed surprised, then impressed. “That's exactly what he does. Terrorizes his victims until they agree to drop the charges.”

Caro leaned back in her chair. “But he hasn't made any demands.”

“Not yet,” Chance said.

Her stomach twisted. This wasn't over, then. Not by a long shot.

“How bad did it get for those other women?”

“Bad enough they refused to testify against him.”

James would keep going. Scaring her. Terrorizing her. Driving her crazy.

“What should we do?” Chance asked.

“Be vigilant,” Officer Connelly said. “Keep your eyes and ears open.”

“That won't be a problem.” Chance dropped his words like a grenade—harsh, quick, angry. His face hardened, too. “Son of a bitch will have another think coming if he goes near Caro again.”

“Good,” Officer Connelly said. “But we have to do things by the book.”

“Do we?” Chance lifted a brow, and it was clear by his expression he had his own ideas of how to get James to leave her alone.

Officer Connelly nodded. “He needs to be put away. Legally. With a public record.”

Chance leaned forward. “My way won't clog up the judiciary system.”

What Chance talked about was wrong, but it still made her feel protected, safe and, yes, relieved he would go to such lengths.

She touched his arm briefly. “Chance, it's okay. We'll figure out a way to lock him behind bars.”

Connelly's eyes had never left Chance's. “Caro tells me you're ex-military.”

“Army Ranger.”

“Shame to mess up a future career in law enforcement out of a need for revenge.”

“Who said I was going into law enforcement?”

She watched as Officer Connelly sized Chance up. He frowned, apparently disappointed by what he saw. “Private contracting then?”

Chance nodded. “When the time comes.”

Another long stare. “There are other ways to serve your country, you know.”

Caro didn't understand what was going on between the two of them. Chance suddenly gripped the edge of the table, appearing capable of injecting venom into someone's veins. She leaned forward to get their attention. “Can we get back on topic?”

Chance had the grace to look abashed. Officer Connelly seemed amused, but he shot her a look of apology.

“Did you confront James about what happened at the rodeo grounds?” she asked. “His shooting at me, I mean.”

“He denied it. No surprise.” Officer Connelly shook his head. “But reading his files, I have no doubt he's capable of doing that and much more.”

“Maybe you should stay home this weekend,” Chance said.

“No.” She looked between the two men. “I won't let him ruin my life. Trick riding is my job. I get paid to do it. No work, no money and I'm broke enough as it is.”

She hated admitting that in front of Chance. She already felt like a failure, but she needed him to understand he couldn't ground her. She had to work, especially if she wanted to switch apartments. She'd need a security deposit, and she had Inga to take care of now. She glanced at the dog.

“She goes where you go,” Chance said, clearly following her gaze. “Even to the rodeos.”

“Good idea,” Officer Connelly said.

Chance shot him a look that obviously indicated he didn't need his approval, and then he shifted his attention back to her. “This weekend, you'll stay in the trailer with me again. I'll tell the girls they should stay with friends. It occurred to me last weekend he might think you're in there with them and do something aimed at hurting you, but injuring all of them instead.”

She hadn't thought of that, and the idea sickened her. She'd never forgive herself if someone got hurt because of her poor choice of a boyfriend.

“Let me know if anything else happens.” Officer Connelly stood. “I've put my cell phone on my card. Call me, even if it's on a weekend.” He slid the card across the table. She caught his full name then. Brennan Connelly.

“Thank you,” she said.

Officer Connelly turned when he reached the door. “I know it might be tough, but don't let James bully you. That's what he's used to doing—and getting away with it. I would hate to see that happen again.”

She nodded. “I don't plan on letting him get close to me.”

“Good.”

The moment the door closed behind the officer, Chance said, “I still think you should stay home this weekend.”

“No.”

“If it's money you need, I'm sure Colt could put you to work around the ranch, especially with Natalie out of commission.”

“No,” she said more firmly, meeting his gaze, though doing so caused her stomach to flip. “I'm going to keep on doing what I do no matter what James throws in my direction.”

She thought he might argue the point, but instead he smiled—a small one, but it was enough to make her look away, her cheeks filling with color.

“He's not going to hurt you.”

She nodded, still refusing to look at him.

“I won't let him.”

It was torture, him sitting across from her. Caro was aware of his smell and his heat, and, yes, damn it all, the primordial desire to be with him. He was a man who would do anything to protect her from harm. That was the attraction. It was stupid and cave woman–ish, but she couldn't help herself.

“Caro?”

Could he see her breath quickening? Did he spot the pulse at the base of her neck? Had he taken note of how she clenched her hands into fists?

“I should call the other girls.” She stood, too quickly, and pain shot up her leg. She tilted to the left.

And he caught her.

The world turned topsy-turvy. Her whole body ignited. Her gasp wasn't because her ankle hurt. It was because her body lit up like she had fireworks inside of her, all booms and wooshes and zaps, and now she tingled in places she didn't want to think about.

“Sorry,” she said, her face heating. “I forgot about my ankle.”

He seemed puzzled by her reaction. Or maybe it was concern she read in his eyes. And surprise. “You shouldn't be walking on it.”

“I'm fine.” She hopped for the couch, where she'd left her phone, and though she tried to hide it, she would bet he could see her grimacing. “I'll see you later on for practice.”

“No,” he said sharply. “You need to stay off that ankle for at least a couple days.”

They needed to practice, to nail down the fine points of their new routine, yet she couldn't find the courage to argue the point.

“Yeah, maybe you're right.”

His eyes lit up. With relief?

“I'll send Natalie up here to check on you later.”

“Thanks.”

And he was gone. She grabbed one of the couch pillows, covered her face with it and screamed.