The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel (4 page)

“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

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.