Pamela Britton - The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel

“Colt said I could use his.”

“But then I’d have to leave my truck here.”

“I’ll take you wherever you need to go from here on out.”

“That’s too much.” She took a deep breath and repeated, “I can handle this.”

She could handle a fifteen-hundred-pound horse. Do tricks on them nobody in their right mind wanted to try. James was a scrawny human who liked to terrorize little women. She would deal.

“Look,” he said. “I wanted Colt to tell you this, but he was afraid you’d think he’d overstepped his bounds. Plus, I think he wanted to spare you the embarrassment.”

She tensed.

“The truth is, I’m not just your boss.”

She couldn’t move. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like what came next.

“I’m your bodyguard.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the reason why Colt put me in charge of his specialty act. Well, that and the fact my sister-in-law is pregnant and Colt plans to stay home with her soon. But while I learn the ropes, he’s asked me to keep an eye on you, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to do exactly that. Stay here. I’ll be right back with my brother’s truck.”

She shook her head, attempted to catch his sleeve, but he was already gone.

I’m your bodyguard.

Dear Lord in heaven.

Her humiliation was now complete.

* * *

“YOU REALLY DON’T have to do this,” Carolina said, smoothing down her blond pigtails.

“Actually, I do.”

His brother had filled him in on the situation last night. Told him about his idea, too, to put him in charge. It’d seemed stupid at first. He hadn’t ridden a horse in years, but Colt had insisted. The act didn’t involve riding, at least not on his part. It was all tricks from the ground, done by sleight of hand and verbal commands. The Galloping Girlz did the actual riding. All he’d have to do was learn the routine and keep an eye on the woman standing in front of him. A little woman. Someone easy to terrorize, by the looks of things.

“Where to?” he asked.

She didn’t seem happy, but when he opened the passenger-side door, she climbed in. “Do you know where the rodeo grounds are?”

“I think I do.” It’d been eight years, but he was pretty sure he could still find his way around.

“I live about a mile from them.”

Clear across town. Well, so be it. Those hadn’t been mild threats on her phone. They’d been a stream of vitriol so nasty he didn’t blame her for being distressed. If he’d had someone threatening to do those things, he’d be a little distracted, too.

“How long did you date this guy?”

She’d settled into her seat. “About a year.”

“Long time,” he observed, backing out of Colt’s parking spot next to a massive six-horse trailer with the name Rodeo Misfits on the side.

“Too long,” she added.

He cocked an eyebrow at her in question.

“I wanted to break up months ago, but I was...” She licked her lips.

“Scared,” he finished for her.

She nodded. “Turns out, I’m not the only woman he’s done this to. I felt like such an idiot when I heard that.”

He was about to put the truck in Drive, but something in her eyes stopped him. She had the air of a woman who’d seen something terrible, something she didn’t want to see again but that still haunted her soul.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You know, maybe you should move into the apartment above the barn. Just temporarily. Colt said I could have it, but I can bunk down with Colt or at my sister’s place down the road.”

She sat up in her seat. “No. I can’t do that.”

But the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He didn’t know the woman next to him, not really. His brother had told him a lot. City girl who’d grown up with a love for horses. She’d found trick riding relatively late in life: sixteen. She was twenty-six now, and his brother said she was good, doing tricks he’d never seen before.

Brave.

But not at this moment. He felt a keen sense of protectiveness. The same kind of urge he’d felt when he’d stumbled into a village of Afghans, scared, dragged into a war they didn’t want, kids crying, women terrified. Tore him apart. The urge to shield them and keep them from harm was one he had never ignored.

“Ready?” She met his gaze, peering up at him with an unblinking stare. “You can take me home. Nothing will happen, I promise. I can handle this on my own. Don’t make this a bigger deal than it already is.”

Because then you’ll give my ex the power. He read the words in her eyes. He understood that look, too. When he’d been fighting over there, he’d seen the same expression of resolve. They didn’t want the US military’s help. They wanted to be left alone to deal with things on their own. They wanted independence.

He couldn’t blame her for that.

“As long as you think you have it handled,” he said.

“I do.”

He nodded, and she faced forward again, so clearly relieved he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for her as he put his brother’s truck in gear and drove toward her home.

“Colt told me you’ll only be Stateside for a short time?”

He appreciated her attempt at conversation. For some reason, sitting next to her made him antsy. “Going to work for DTS—Darkhorse Tactical Solutions. Just taking a sabbatical while my sister-in-law finishes cooking her baby.”

She smiled. That was better. He liked that smile. It tipped the end of her nose up and made the corners of her eyes wrinkle. Pretty eyes. Blue as the desert sky on a winter morning.

“What will you be doing for them?” she asked.

“Typical contract work.” He glanced at her as he passed between the white fencing his sister-in-law insisted was de rigueur for the ranch. He had to admit, the place looked spectacular. When he’d first driven up, he’d been blown away by the changes made since his brother’s wedding. Huge barn. Covered arena. Irrigated pasture. Turned out, they’d been sitting on a gold mine and never known it—a natural aquifer supplied water to the ranch, as well as a few neighbors, for a price.

“I’ve always wondered what a military contractor does.” She smiled again. “I assume you’re not building houses.”

He shook his head. “We’re a security service. Mostly corporate executives, although we do escort the occasional civvy. Our job is to keep someone safe while they do business in war-torn towns.”

A blond brow arched. “Business? When there’s a war going on?”

“Yup. Sometimes it’s military business, sometimes it’s civilian business. The need for oil never stops, and billion-dollar corporations need protection for the people who work to bring the product to market. Plus there’s road reconstruction companies and real estate investors—”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. War or no, life goes on.”

She lapsed into silence, and he let her contemplate his words. A lot of people had no idea what it was really like in the Middle East. All they saw were the bits on TV. Five minutes of chaos followed by days, sometimes weeks, of normalcy. Well, as normal as life in a war-torn country could be. In those moments, people tried to get on with their lives, businesses tried to regroup and recoup. It wasn’t as if life stopped. The corporate machine kept moving.

“This is it,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “Turn here.”

He followed her directions, turning down a street with two-story apartment complexes on both sides.

“Thank you,” she said as he pulled up in front of her building.

“Not so fast.” He shut off the engine. “I’m walking you to your door.”

She shook her head, the twin braids sliding behind her shoulders. “There’s no need. He’s not there. If he was, we’d see his truck parked down the road.”