Pamela Britton - Her Rodeo Hero

“I know.”

“But I’ll do what I can. And we can talk to Sam and see if she can help you when I’m not around.”

Natalie wanted to cry, except she couldn’t because if she did she’d seem like a sissy and she had a feeling Colt didn’t deal well with sissies.

“You’re going to feel like a kid learning to ride all over again, and when you’re not working with Sam or me, I think you should sign up for a rehabilitation program, one that specializes in hippotherapy.”

Hippotherapy. Translation: equine therapy. She’d resisted doing that, hadn’t thought it was necessary. Clearly, she’d been kidding herself. She trusted Colt, and if he said she needed outside help, well maybe it was time to put her pride aside.

“In the meantime bring Playboy over here and I’ll start working with him for you. It’ll be easier for me to prep him for reining competitions.”

Her eyes burned. She realized that she was fighting back sudden tears. She had to blink a few times. “Thanks, Colt.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He slapped Roger’s neck. “Let’s see how you do today before you start getting excited.”

Chapter Five

He’d tortured her for an hour.

Natalie had been a saint through it all. Colt had known his ultimatum would leave her with little choice but to do as he asked, and truthfully, he’d half-hoped she’d say no so he’d be off the hook with very little guilt. She’d agreed, though, and then worked hard, despite having to stop from time to time to settle her stomach. Afterward, she’d spent a good hour working with Sam and Roger over a few pieces of wood. She called it ground work, but it wasn’t the kind he was used to. Natalie had said that using the wooden obstacles was the first step to teaching Roger how to jump.

“You look lost in thought.”

Colt glanced up at his sister, Claire. They were sitting in her kitchen, him about to embark on babysitting duties, her heading off to town to run errands. Claire lived on the property, in what had been called the cowboy bunkhouse back when their dad had run a few hundred head of cattle. She’d converted the place into a home, and the siblings now lived a good mile away from each other, Colt at one end of the two-hundred-acre parcel and Claire at the other. He’d always liked the spot where she lived—at the base of a small hill, surrounded by a grove of oak trees with a year-round creek within walking distance—better than the site where his grandfather had built the main homestead, out in the middle of nowhere so he could keep an eye on things, or so Colt had been told.

“I was thinking about that woman I’m helping,” he answered.

“Natalie, right?” Claire swept her long, black hair over one shoulder, the strands twisting in a way that somehow made it look thicker. “Wes and Jillian’s friend.”

He fingered the tab top of a soda can, twanging it as he recalled his first lesson with Natalie. “She popped in on me today.”

Wide, sweeping black brows lifted. “Oh, yeah?”

Adam, Colt’s five-year-old nephew, sat in the small living area near the front of the cozy but comfortable open-concept house. He was busy snapping together some kind of Lego war craft, probably from the latest superhero movie, Hawkman . The boy loved comic books. When Adam glanced up, Colt found himself smiling, once again surprised at how much he looked like Claire. That was a good thing. Not just because she was good-looking, but because he couldn’t imagine Claire having to stare at Marcus’s face day in and day out.

“We ended up tormenting her in the arena.”

Claire took a pull from her own soda, clearly not in any hurry to set off on her trip to town.

“ We being you and your new harem,” she said, a teasing glint coming into her bright green eyes.

“Claire!”

Her smile could light up a room and right then, it did. “What? You know it’s true. Sam has had the hots for you since you came back from the Middle East.”

“Not interested.”

“Why not? She’s pretty, that’s for sure.”

“You know why.” He peered at Claire in a way she couldn’t fail to recognize.

Her smile faded. “You’re still convinced you’re damaged goods.”

“It’s proven to be a little more than a theory by now.” But he didn’t like to think about his failed romances, nor the scars that fire fight near Benghazi had left behind. “Anyway, we worked Natalie pretty hard.”

He could tell Claire wanted to continue the conversation about his love life, but she wisely changed her mind. “What do you mean? I thought you were helping her with her horse?”

He really wished his soda was a beer. He could have used a long swig of something stronger right then. “Turns out she needs as much work as her horse.”

“I thought she was some kind of famous English rider.”

“She was. She had an accident.” He tapped his head. “It’s messed up her balance pretty good.”

As he thought back to earlier in the day, and how hard Natalie had fought not only to stay atop Roger, but to keep herself from getting sick, something damn near like admiration made one side of his mouth curl.

“You like her.”

His head jerked upward. “Excuse me?”

“This woman. You like her. I saw the way you just smiled.”

“I didn’t smile.” He leaned back in his chair and peered out the window by the kitchen table where they sat. “It was a smirk.”

“I can tell the difference between a smirk and a smile.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be confusing admiration with interest.”

“Why not? They’re two sides of the same coin.”

“It’s not like that.” Colt shot his sister a glare.

“Is she pretty?”

Instantly, Natalie’s jewel-like eyes came to mind. They were blue-tinted stained glass windows to her soul. Not just pretty. Stunning.

“She is, isn’t she?” Claire wriggled in her chair. “And you—” she made quotes with her fingers “—admire her. This ought to be interesting.”

Colt ignored her. “Do me a favor. Go on and get out of here. I’d like to spend some quality time with my nephew, if you don’t mind.”

It was her turn to smirk, but Claire was smart. She knew when to push an issue and when to pull back. So she stood and reached behind her, pulling the cowhide straps of her brown purse over her shoulder.

“Fine.” She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, the gesture so reminiscent of when they had been kids, it brought a lump to Colt’s throat. “I won’t be gone long. I just need to pick up some dog food from the feed store and run by Adam’s doctor’s office to sign some insurance papers. I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour.”

He lifted a hand in acknowledgment. His nephew hadn’t been feeling well lately. Some kind of persistent flu, but Claire had told him Adam had been bouncing off the walls earlier so he planned to take the boy back to his own place, put him up on one of the horses, and help him burn off some energy.

“But for the record.” Claire paused with her hand on the old-fashioned knob. “I don’t think you’re as damaged as you think. I think you’re one of the most amazing men I know. Well, aside from Chance.” Her smile turned sad for a moment because she missed their little brother, a man who’d dedicated his life to the military in a way Colt might have, too, if he hadn’t been pressured to come home when their dad had gotten sick. “But that goes without saying. Anyway, my point is that someday some woman is going to challenge you to be the man I’ve always known you could be. I just hope I’ll still be living here so I can be around to see it.”

* * *

COLT HAD TOLD HER to bring Playboy over the next day and Natalie wasted no time in taking him up on the offer. These days she had to borrow a trailer—yet another thing she’d had to sell—from a friend. Playboy didn’t seem to mind.