Pamela Britton - Rancher and Protector

“No, it’s okay,” she said, staving him off with a hand. “I love dogs.”

“You do?”

“I do,” she exclaimed, plunging her hands into the shepherd’s thick fur and giving him a good scratch. Mac fairly moaned. “Such pretty eyes,” she cooed. They were blue. Blue like the water in Crater Lake. “But where have you been keeping him?”

“In my room,” he said. “Gil told me that was okay as long as he didn’t cause trouble.”

“What?” she said in mock surprise. “Mac, cause trouble? Nah.” She smiled at the animal.

When she stood up, she found Colt staring at her, and she felt self-conscious all of a sudden. “I see you got Flash ready.”

“Uh, yeah. Hope you don’t mind. I didn’t see any good reason to torture you by making you halter the animal. I want you to enjoy yourself today.”

“Thanks,” she said, her relief so great she almost hugged him.

“Come on, Mac.”

“Where are you putting him?”

“In one of the empty stalls. I don’t want him getting under your feet. Go on in and get some brushes,” Colt added. “I’ll be right back.”

She did so, thinking In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Don’t those hard bristles hurt?” she asked when he came back out.

“No, not like that.” Colt took the brush from her hand. She felt the jolt of their fingers meeting like a static charge.

“And horses actually like it,” he said.

As he moved closer, Amber found herself wanting to edge away.

“Use long strokes,” Colt instructed, his gaze hooking her own. “Start at his neck and work your way back. Sometimes it’s easier to use a currycomb first. That’ll knock the hair loose.”

“And a currycomb looks like … what, exactly?”

Colt bent and pulled something out of the bucket that caused her to say, “Ouch. Now that can’t feel good.” It looked like a lollipop, only the “pop” part was made of metal. And it had teeth. Sharp, pointed teeth.

“You’d be surprised what feels good to a horse.”

She eyed the animal. “Actually, given that I know absolutely nothing about them, I don’t think anything would surprise me. How do I use the currycomb?”

“Move it in circular patterns.”

She nodded. “Wax on. Wax off.”

“Excuse me?”

“Karate Kid. Haven’t you ever seen that movie?”

Colt stared down at her as if he’d never heard of anything remotely related to karate—movies or otherwise—in his life, but that didn’t dissuade her.

“Sensei tell you to wax on, wax off,” she said.

But all Colt did was stare. The man was about as warm and as friendly as Mount Everest.

“Once you’re done,” he said, “follow up with the brush. I’m going to go get the tack.”

She gave the brush a hard flick, and was immediately rewarded by a cloud of dust and dander. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face, although the smell of horse wasn’t all that unpleasant. And the animal seemed to have calmed down. His head hung low, his brown eyes half-closed, as if he was falling asleep at the hitching post. Hmm. Maybe this wouldn’t be as scary as she thought.

“You done?”

“No,” Amber said in exasperation. “And please don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Colt dropped the saddle and hung the bridle on the end of the post Flash was tied to. “Here,” he said, “I’ll do the other side.”

And that was how Amber found herself quietly grooming a horse—because Mr. Colt Sheridan appeared to be the tall, dark and silent type. But that was okay. It gave her time to think.

Dee would be arriving soon, although no one could make the connection. Her nephew’s birth certificate said Rudolph, a result of Sharron’s twisted sense of humor, when he’d been born on Christmas Day. But everybody, including his father, called him Rudy, and that suited Amber just fine. Logan had been begging to see him again, and Amber just couldn’t do that to her nephew. The last time they’d been to visit it had been so horrible. Dee had gone into meltdown. Logan had grown irate. The supervising officer had had to intervene…. Horrible. All the proof she needed that her brother-in-law hadn’t changed, not one whit.

“So what made you want to work with special needs children?”

She again waved a hand in front of her face as dust tickled her nose. “It’s a long story.”

Colt continued grooming Flash, although she could swear he was trying to denude the beast. Dander and hair were flying. Thank goodness she wasn’t allergic to horses.

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he said, his eyes meeting hers for a moment.

“No, really,” she said.

“You like kids, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she answered quickly.

“Do you want any of your own?”

He hadn’t stopped brushing, but she could feel him glancing at her. Every time he did, it was like warm flashes of sunlight touched her—which, honestly, was a strange thing to think.

“Someday,” she said. “How about you? What made you want to work for Camp Cowboy?”

“I didn’t.”

That made her stop brushing for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I heard about this place from a friend. He told me I should apply. So I did.”

She didn’t know why that stunned her, but it did. She’d just assumed everyone who worked at Camp Cowboy had done so out of a need to serve. To make the world a better place. To reach out and maybe help a child.

Her life’s mission, thanks to Dee.

“So if your friend hadn’t suggested you apply, you’d have … what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what I would have done for cash. Found something else.”

“But you wanted to work with special needs kids, didn’t you?”

She could tell he didn’t want to answer her question because his eyes flicked over Flash as he groomed, then to her, then back again. “My first love is rodeo,” he admitted.

Of course. She should have known.

Just like her sister’s husband.

Amber was certain the rodeo lifestyle had corrupted Logan to the point of no return. Cowboys boozed it up and chased women. That’s what her sister said, and Amber believed it. “I know someone who used to do that.”

“Yeah?” Colt asked.

But she wasn’t ready to answer questions about Dee’s father, even though she was curious if the two knew each other. The man was better off gone from their lives, something that was hard to explain to strangers.

“Please tell me you at least like kids?” she replied, trying to change the subject.

He paused. “Kids and I don’t get along.”

Her body turned into a pillar of salt—or so it felt. “What the heck are you doing here then?”

He looked her right in the eye. She watched as he tried to find the words. In the end he simply shrugged and said, “Searching for something.”

Now why the heck had he gone and said that? he wondered, flicking the brush over Flash’s back harder than necessary. Flash pinned his ears, and Cold patted his rump in apology.

“Searching for what?” she asked, clearly curious.

“I don’t know,” he hedged, then shrugged. “But the rodeo life, it’s getting hard.”

That’s why he had to do this. Time was running out—and she was his ticket to the big leagues.

“So quit,” she suggested.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

Because he could still do this thing. He just needed to figure out a way to discover where Rudy was without feeling like a complete jerk in the process.

You are a jerk.

Amber was shaking her head, and he could tell she didn’t like his answer. Not only that, but she almost appeared disappointed.