Pamela Britton - Her Cowboy Lawman

Bren crossed his arms and gave her the same stare he’d given some of his subordinates when they were thinking of doing something they shouldn’t. “Of course, if you want to risk his safety...”

She knew he manipulated her. The disapproval in her gaze deepened and he told himself that was good. He didn’t want her approval. He wanted her to keep her distance.

At least, that’s what he told himself, because when she straightened and her chin flicked up and her pretty hazel eyes sparked and she said, “All right, fine,” there was a part of him that did the same thing Kyle did.

“Yessss!” the kid yelled.

Chapter Four

She should have said no.

You’re just nervous about Kyle learning how to ride.

But she knew it wasn’t just that. It was him. Bren Connelly. The former Green Beret. Gosh darn it all, another testosterone-filled male in her life. Just what she needed. He reminded her of Paul. And why not? They had both been manufactured at the same war-machine factory.

Too bad.

She would never go down that road again. Never, never, never. Which was really a shame because she’d found him kind of attractive.

Kind of?

Okay, very.

She heard his truck before she spotted it. For a moment she wished Kyle were with her, but he’d gone down to the stables ahead of her with Jax. The two were saddling up the horse they would use today, and so it was just her.

Don’t be afraid.

Bren was not Paul.

Besides, Bren was so aloof. He had no romantic interest in her. He wouldn’t wine and dine and woo her and then...change. Bren hardly glanced her way. That was good. She needed to keep it that way. She forced a wide smile on her face and pulled open her front door. At least he’d followed her instructions. She told him to drive around to the side of the house, to where the guest’s quarters of her brother’s multimillion-dollar home were located.

“Wow.”

That was all he said when he stepped out of the same black Dodge truck she’d seen at his house. The vehicle matched his all-black outfit right down to the cowboy hat. Not that she expected a warm greeting from him or anything. Ever since that first day he’d been so...standoffish. Still, a “Hi” or a “Hello” or “Good to see you” would have been nice. Not that she really blamed him. Her brother’s home could make a politician speechless.

“It’s kind of over the top, isn’t it?”

Bren had completely ignored her words, just stood in place, tipped his hat back, topaz-colored eyes taking it all in. She’d done the same thing when she’d first arrived.

The house had been built into the side of a hill, one covered by oak trees and a small outcropping of rocks. It’d been designed by some bigwig mucky-muck in New York, one who specialized in feng shui. Her brother believed in luck and Karma and all that other crazy stuff, so she hadn’t been surprised that he’d built his monstrous-sized home out of “natural elements,” in this case redwood and granite, and then ordered it to blend in with its surroundings. Three stories tall, it boasted a steep roof in the middle and two smaller peaks on the left and right. Giant beams stuck out at the ends, a design mimicked around the ranch. The second and third floors both opened up to decks, but she lived on the bottom floor, around the side, which sounded not as nice but, in fact, was super spacious and comfortable, and she thanked God for the roof over her head every day.

“And you live there?” He pointed behind her.

She followed his gaze, remembering what she’d thought when she’d seen the private entrance. She had a deck, too, although hers was more like a porch, the narrow steps leading to a door with windows on either side of it. Her apartment might look like a tiny portion of her brother’s giant mansion, but that wasn’t the case at all. She had the entire corner of the house—and given the size of that home, that said a lot—plus three bedrooms and a kitchen that overlooked the backyard. Even though the home had been nestled against the side of a hill, it was really more of an illusion. They had carved away the hillside to make room for more decking and a pool, all of which she could spy from her kitchen and family room windows along the back of her apartment.

“It’s supposed to be the maid’s quarters.” She’d laughed when she heard that. Her brother—with a maid. “But he’s letting me and Kyle live here until I’m back on my feet.”

Because her life had completely fallen apart when Paul had died. The lies. The half-truths. It had all come to a head and she’d been forced to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and start all over again. And she’d been doing fine, too. She’d raised Kyle while holding down a job and going to school at night. But then Jax had visited her. His visits had been so few and far between when he’d been working full time. But now he wasn’t, and he’d seen the hovel where she lived and had insisted she move into his new place. It had meant moving to a different city and rebuilding their lives from scratch, but she’d done it for Kyle. He’d been happier than she’d ever seen him and it made her hope he’d escaped her marriage to Paul unscathed.

“Where’s the riding stables?” His gaze scanned the perimeter.

“Out back.”

He appeared skeptical. She didn’t blame him. The first day they’d driven up to her brother’s new home, right after she’d picked her jaw up off the floor—pictures did not do the mansion justice—Kyle had asked the same question. Surrounded by trees and the hillside, it didn’t appear to be anything other than just a home out in the middle of nowhere.

“It’s hidden,” she said.

Right then, as if on cue, a horse nickered in the distance. Bren turned toward the sound coming from the tree-studded hillside and cocked his head.

“It’s around on the other side.” She pointed to a gravel road that swept past her apartment and wound through the hills. “Kyle’s already down there.”

He nodded, but whereas last week he’d pretty much ignored her, today he turned and studied her. She felt the urge to brush a hand through her hair. She’d left it down today. No more pigtails, but for some reason she wished she’d taken time to style it a little more.

Stupid. Former Green Beret, remember?

“I heard your brother is a military contractor.” He cocked his head a bit as he awaited her answer.

“He was,” she said, glancing down at her new boots. They weren’t broken in yet and they already hurt. “He’s mostly retired now. Focusing on Hooves for Heroes.”

Because far be it from Jax to retire, although she supposed that at thirty-eight, he was far too young for that. Still, most men in his position would want to travel the world, to forget the past and the stress of their previous line of work. Not her brother. No. He wanted to help the men and women who’d served their country—and had the scars to prove it.

“If you don’t mind driving, we can go down there now, unless you’re not supposed to drive civilians around in your vehicle or something.”

“I won’t exactly be driving on city streets.” He shot her a smile. “Not that it matters. The truck’s a perk of the job. I can do whatever I want with it.”

Must be nice, she thought. But she supposed a lawman was never really off duty, and so who was she to pass judgment?

“It’s just a little too far to walk,” she said, “and my brother already took off with the Rhino.”

There he went studying her again. Why, oh why, did she feel her skin begin to prickle, her fair flesh no doubt changing colors like a neon sign behind a window. It was as if he knew she had a secret.

“The Rhino is an all-terrain vehicle Jax bought to drive back and forth to the stable area,” she explained because she felt the need to say something.