The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel
In July 2016 HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE will become HARLEQUIN WESTERN ROMANCE. Same great stories, new name!
A PROMISE TO PROTECT
Under the guise of taking over the family’s rodeo act, former Army Ranger Chance Reynolds is actually home to protect their star trick rider, Carolina Cruthers, from her ex. Keeping an eye on the spunky blonde isn’t a problem. Keeping things professional? That’s getting harder every day.
Though Caro feels safe with Chance, she knows getting involved with her boss would be a bad idea, never mind dragging him into her messy past. But life on the rodeo trail draws them closer, and what started as a short-term arrangement suddenly feels anything but temporary. Can Chance convince Caro that they should team up forever?
“Let’s practice some more.” Chance offered Caro his hand.
She nodded, her blond hair falling over one shoulder as she took his hand. He pulled her to her feet. In a moment she was up against him again.
Damn.
If she had any idea how it tortured him to have her back up against him like she was, well, suffice it to say, she’d probably call off the rest of their self-defense lesson.
“Remember,” he said into her ear. “Step, wedge, thrust.”
He didn’t give her time to comment, just wrapped an arm around her. She didn’t hesitate this time, shoving her leg between his own, thrusting back, using such force that he didn’t have to fake falling down.
He loved the way her eyes lit up with triumph.
“That was easy.” She grinned.
“Let’s do it again.”
It was all he could do not to lean down and plant his lips on hers.
Dear Reader,
Many years ago I decided to try trick riding. Problem was, I didn’t own a horse. No matter. The local rancher had a few trusty steeds and so I figured I’d ride one of them. Using a giant oak tree as a perch, I waited patiently for a horse to wander beneath me. When the moment was right, I flung myself atop the horse’s back.
I rode for about 1.9 seconds.
Actually, I bounced…and bounced…ever closer toward the rear, and then I catapulted into the air. I did not, however, bounce when I hit the ground. I ached for days.
It was worth it.
That moment fueled a lifelong passion for horses. I never did make it into the trick riding arena, but I am proud to call a few of those riders my friends. Every time I watch them perform, I am left breathless. I hoped to capture that breathlessness in The Ranger’s Rodeo Rebel.
Trick riders are tough. My heroine, Carolina Cruthers, is tough, too, but not when it comes to relationships. My hero, Chance Reynolds, is exactly the kind of man she tries to avoid: bossy, bold and just a tad bit too handsome for his own good. Fate draws them together and forces Chance to act as Carolina’s bodyguard. Together they learn that sometimes even the strongest individuals need a little help.
I hope you enjoy The Ranger’s Rodeo Rebel. As always, it is my fondest hope that readers will laugh and cry when they read my books. I hope I’ve succeeded.
Pam
THE RANGER’S
RODEO REBEL
Pamela Britton
With more than a million books in print, Pamela Britton likes to call herself the best-known author nobody’s ever heard of. Of course, that changed thanks to a certain licensing agreement with that little racing organization known as NASCAR.
But before the glitz and glamour of NASCAR, Pamela wrote books that were frequently voted the best of the best by the Detroit Free Press, Barnes & Noble (two years in a row) and RT Book Reviews. She’s won numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and a nomination for the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award.
When not writing books, Pamela is a reporter for a local newspaper. She’s also a columnist for the American Quarter Horse Journal.
Books by Pamela Britton
Harlequin American Romance
The Cowgirl’s CEO
The Wrangler
Mark: Secret Cowboy
Rancher and Protector
The Rancher’s Bride
A Cowboy’s Pride
A Cowboy’s Christmas Wedding
A Cowboy’s Angel
The Texan’s Twins
Kissed by a Cowboy
Her Rodeo Hero
His Rodeo Sweetheart
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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For Josey Lynn and Bobbie Stone, two of the most amazing trick riders in the rodeo business, and women I’m proud to call my friends.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Trouble with Cowgirls by Amanda Renee
Chapter One
It had turned into the day from hell.
“Come on.” Carolina Cruthers patted the pockets of her jeans one last time. “Please tell me I didn’t do what I think I did.”
But her denim pants didn’t hold the keys to her truck any more than her hands did, which meant she’d either lost them in the barn or they were somewhere inside her truck.
Dang it. She peered quickly around the parking area of Misfit Farms, her blond braids nearly slapping her in the face. The bright afternoon sun turned the farm’s newly installed fence the same color as the new cars on Via Del Caballo’s main drag: pristine white.
In truth, Carolina had no idea why she bothered to look around. She knew she’d dropped her keys somewhere in her truck. She’d done it enough times the past month it was a sure bet. Nobody would come to her rescue, either. Today was Monday. Misfit Farms was closed to clients and visitors. This was the day when she and her boss, Colt Reynolds, reviewed rodeo business. They had talked about their specialty act this morning, the upcoming schedule and any changes they needed to make after their weekend performance. Her boss had left earlier along with his wife, Natalie. There was nobody walking around the state-of-the-art horse facility.
Now what? She cupped her hands and peered through the truck’s window. Her keys weren’t in the ignition, so they were most likely—
On the floor.
Yep. Just beneath the edge of the driver’s seat, glinting in the sun, sat the horseshoe charm Colt and Natalie had gotten her for Christmas. The charm lay on the black mat of her truck as if making fun of her dilemma. Lucky. Yeah, right.
She’d done it again. She’d locked her stupid keys in her dang truck. This was...what? The third time in the past month? And all because of...
James.
The reason for her absentmindedness settled into the pit of her stomach like a load of cement. She
probably had a million texts on her phone right now, the same cell phone tucked inside her purse, the one resting on the bench seat in the rear of her vehicle.
Think.
She picked up a braid and absently started chewing—a habit of hers. Colt and Natalie wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. That meant it was just her with no cell phone and no access to a landline unless the barn office was open or she broke into her boss’s house. If that was the case, there was a phone upstairs in the abandoned apartment above the barn. Abandoned...but not for long.
That had been the other piece of news that had rattled her. Her boss had decided to stay home the rest of the season. Colt was putting his brother in charge of their rodeo specialty act. Chance Reynolds was the guy’s name. A man who’d been out of the business for years. And yet Colt thought he’d be better suited to take over. Not fair. She’d been around longer. She’d put in years of blood, sweat and tears, not with Colt and the Galloping Girlz, but with another team. She’d even taken over when her friend Samantha had decided to run off with her movie-star boyfriend. Why Colt had decided to put some former Army Ranger in charge was beyond her, but it had seriously bummed her out.
Keys, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t be able to go home and sulk unless she found her keys.
The walk to the main barn was a short one. The horses in the stalls hung their heads out to greet her. Hanoverians, Trakehners and other imported warm bloods mixed with the occasional Thoroughbred. They peeked at her curiously, ears pricked forward as if asking, “Food?”
“Not yet, guys,” she said.
Carolina kind of understood why Colt had decided to sit out the rest of the rodeo season. His wife, Natalie, a famous hunter/jumper rider, with a waiting list of people wanting to train with her, was about to have a baby. The doctor had recently grounded her. Colt wanted to be around to help with the baby when it came. Someone needed to keep riding all the horses, and that was Colt. Carolina didn’t blame him. She just couldn’t stand the idea of some flatlander telling her what to do. It made no sense.
At the far end of the barn, near a patch of sunlight that nearly blinded her, was the office, its fancy French doors closed. She said a silent prayer heavenward and turned the handle.
It didn’t move.
She rattled it some more, just in case, jiggling the door so hard dust fell from the sill above. The door wouldn’t budge. Okay, fine. Up to the apartment she would go. No big deal. When she got home she’d pour herself a big glass of wine. Maybe even take a bath. It’d been forever since she’d had one of those.
The stairs to the apartment were outside at the back of the barn. It was a steep climb that had her heart thumping from the exertion of taking the steps two at a time, but her reward was a door handle that slid down easily. Carolina released a breath of relief and all but dived for the phone.
A man stood in front of her.
A tall man with black hair and green eyes and a face that resembled her boss so much she knew in an instant who he was.
Chance Reynolds.
And he was naked.
* * *
HE SHOULD MOVE, Chance thought, standing in the living area of his new home. He should, but he couldn’t seem to make himself, because there was something so incredibly priceless about the look on the woman’s face.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so—”
The rest of what she’d been about to say was lost in her mad scramble to run away.
You would have thought he was naked. As he glanced down at himself he admitted she probably thought exactly that. He wore military-issue underwear that happened to be the same color as desert sand. In other words: nude.
“Hey, wait,” he shouted. He grabbed the jeans he’d thrown over the back of the small couch.
“Really.” He ran and tugged, ran and tugged, hopping and skipping as he headed for the door. The woman was already at the bottom of the steps by the time he poked his head outside, his pants still open at the zipper. “Stop.”
She paused with her hand still on the rail. “I’d like to borrow your phone,” she said without making eye contact.
“Hold on.” He zipped up his jeans and glanced back inside his apartment for a shirt. He’d been extremely sleep deprived when his brother had dropped him off at three this morning, and he wasn’t sure where anything was. His bag sat by the door, but he saw no sign of his shirt, not even on the floor of the tiny kitchen to the left of the door.
“Seriously,” he called. “Come back up. I’m dressed.”
She slowly faced him, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. When she peeked up and noticed he was shirtless, she immediately glanced away, her face turning red.
He laughed. “All right, I’m half-dressed.”
“I just need to use the phone,” she repeated.
“Feel free.” The woman with twin blond braids took a deep breath, apparently weighing her options. Chance didn’t mind. It gave him the opportunity to study her. She was slight of build and wearing jeans and a black shirt that hugged her curves and displayed the narrow width of her waist. He had a pretty good idea who she was. Carolina Cruthers. He’d seen her picture on his brother’s website. Trick rider. His new employee.
She must have made up her mind, because she slowly climbed the stairs, her boots clunking up the wooden steps, the sound echoing off the roof of the covered arena a few dozen feet away.
“Need to call a tow company,” she muttered on her way by.
He swung the door closed behind her. “If you’re having car problems, I can take a look.”
“No, thanks.” She’d clearly been to the apartment before, because she walked straight to the phone in the kitchen.
“Thanks.” She turned away from him, dialed a number. “Hi,” he heard her all but whisper into the white handset. Curious, he followed her. Her gaze met his and she half turned away. “This is Carolina Cruthers. I—” She slapped her mouth closed and, judging by the way her full lips pressed together, she wasn’t happy about what someone said on the other end. “Actually, yes, I did.” She lowered her voice even more. “I’m at work.” She gave an address, one he instantly recognized as his own. Well, it’d been his when he was a kid, growing up on Reynolds Ranch. He still owned fifty-plus acres to the east, part of his inheritance when his dad died. One day he would build there, but for now, he was ensconced in his brother’s fancy barn.
“I’ll be waiting.” She hung up, lifted a hand in apology. “Sorry to bug you.”
“How long before they get here?”
Her eyes dipped down, but not before he spotted the way they lingered on his chest. He supposed he should feel self-conscious standing in front of her half-naked, but he hadn’t spent the last eight years of his life in the military, four of them as an Army Ranger, without learning how to be comfortable in his own skin.
“Half hour, they said. Maybe more.”
“Locked your keys in your truck again?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and he caught his first good look at their color. Light blue. The color of the sky first thing in the morning. The ring around the pupils so dark it made the lightness stand out. Some men might find her twin braids, worn jeans and dirty boots attractive, but he liked his women far more feminine.
“I guess Colt told you about me.”
He’d been told the woman had been through a lot. He scanned her arms and her face. No sign of the bruises his brother had mentioned. He did notice, though, that for someone who tried to project toughness, she had a very fragile-looking face. Tiny chin. Small nose. High cheekbones, and skin as pale as the fresh snow that sometimes fell in the desert.
“He told me you were in a spot of trouble.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” she said before tipping her chin up. “Thanks for letting me use your phone. I’ll wait outside.”
; “No need.” He spotted his shirt on the floor near the couch, up next to the wall. He must have shed his clothes on his way to bed. “Sit down and relax.”
The words brought to mind a different image, one that had no business slipping into his thoughts, especially given what she’d just been through. Especially given where he’d just come from. Behind enemy lines. Fighting insurgents. Trying to survive. He still couldn’t quite grasp he was home again.
Home to babysit the woman in front of him.
Because that’s what it boiled down to. Truth was, his brother had been worried about his rodeo trick rider. Really worried. Concerned enough that he’d put Chance in charge of the rodeo act. Carolina had been acting funny, too, Colt had told him. Like locking her keys in her truck and forgetting portions of her routine. His brother had a feeling there was more to the breakup with her ex than she let on. He was pretty sure she was being stalked, not that she’d tell anyone anything. Typical cowgirl. They thought they could handle anything without a man’s help.
“Thanks, but that’s okay.” She took a deep breath, and though she was tiny, she tried to make herself look ten feet tall by standing up straight. “I can wait outside.” She turned to leave.
He cleared his throat. “I bet I can open the door of your truck long before a tow service gets here.”
She paused with her hand on the door. “No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can.” Breaking into vehicles had been part of his military training. That, and a few other things she didn’t need to know about. “Sixty seconds, maybe less.”
“You think?”
“Just give me a knife.”
“A knife?”
“That’s all I need.”
She didn’t look convinced. “There’s some utensils in the kitchen drawers, I think, if you really want to give it a try.”
Try? Army Rangers didn’t just try. They did.
He moved forward. “Chance Reynolds.”
She wiped her palms on the front of her jeans before saying, “Carolina Cruthers.” She shook his hand.