The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel. Pamela Britton
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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.
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