The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel (3 page)

“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

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.

* * *

P
RICKLY
.

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.