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“Yeah, well, lock up,” he said again.
With a sigh of exasperation, she glared at him. “I said I would.”
“Now.”
He disappeared, and the door swung shut with a thud. Ellie stared at it for a moment before forcing her feet to move. She always locked the door. Especially at night. She locked it to keep out cowboys like him.
“Lock the door,” she mimicked under her breath. She could take care of herself and didn’t need anyone telling her what to do. Peeling back the curtain at the window only enough to peek outside, she saw him standing on the ground less than a foot from her camper, watching the door.
“Just turn the little button,” he prompted from the other side.
“I am!” She let the fabric slip from her fingers and, with an angry snap, turned the lock. “Satisfied?”
“Yep.”
Even through the camper door she could hear his soft laughter, and the warmth of it spread through her. “Dumb cowboy,” she whispered to ward it off.
Chace’s shoulders shook with long-suppressed mirth as he made his way through the dimly lit campgrounds. It felt good to laugh. Damn good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found much of anything to more than chuckle over. But the sight of that little lady perched on that shovel, her eyes as big as silver dollars.…He laughed even louder. She’d reminded him of a stick of dynamite, ready to go off at any second.
The humor vanished, and a frown replaced his grin. How the hell had that snake gotten in her camper? It hadn’t been poisonous, but it was no laughing matter. Most women were scared to death when they got within ten feet of a snake. And it was obvious that she traveled alone. Nobody to look out for her.
The thought brought him down faster than snow in an avalanche. If he had to, he’d make sure himself that her camper was secure. Besides varmints like that snake, some rodeoers were a shade on the rowdy side, especially as National Finals drew nearer. Lately he’d noticed some of them erring a little too far on the side of trouble. Another good reason to get out while he had a chance to finish on top.
And that list of reasons grew by the day. Dragging his aching body from bed each morning without someone’s help was still possible, but it wasn’t easy. He’d been kicked, stomped, thrown and just plain busted-up enough to make a decision. This was it, his last year—last chance—to have a double championship by winning the Saddle Bronc title and the All-Around Cowboy title with team roping. He’d been here before, a few years back, a little younger and a lot less hampered by injuries, but he’d missed winning both titles by a narrow margin. Being older and more experienced could give him a slight edge over the younger cowboys. But slight was stretching it. His riding and roping would have to be better than ever with no distractions.
He could do it, and then he’d head home to Texas a big winner. He’d shirked his responsibilities to the family ranch long enough, and he was ready to fix that. Sending his winnings home wasn’t enough anymore. His brother needed help with the place. Chace needed to be there. He wanted to be there.
As he neared his truck and horse trailer, the memory of the little bit of a woman came to mind again. Caramel-colored hair blended with chocolate-drop eyes to create a confection that tempted his sweet tooth. But damn, he was on a diet. No women until he had those gold buckles holding his belt together.
“Hey, Brannigan.”
Squinting, Chace could see his traveling and team roping buddy leaning against the truck with one boot propped against the side of the door. “Ray.”
“That last ride of yours was the best yet,” his friend answered.
When he reached the truck, Chace pulled his bronc saddle out of the back. “Hope the next one’s as good. Thanks for taking care of Redneck.”
“No problem.” Ray moved away from the door. “We gonna get a room, or what?”
Chace peered into the darkness in the direction of the camper he’d just left. “That little barrel racer, the one who beat out Cheryl. What’s her name?”
Ray tipped his hat back. “Ellie Warren. She’s one little bitty package.”
“Good with the barrels, too,” Chace agreed, thinking of her winning ride that night.
“Damn straight.”
Chace didn’t believe she was in any danger, but he did know she’d had a bad scare. It hadn’t escaped him that the lock on her door was a sorry excuse for security. If one of the boys in the crowd near her truck had been tipping the bottle a few too many times…She might be dynamite, but she wasn’t big enough to handle a drunken cowboy.
“Think you can pull the truck into that spot over there?” He pointed to a space barely able to accommodate his stretch-cab pickup.
Ray scratched at a day’s growth of beard and shot him a curious look. “Might be a problem with the trailer.”
“Unhook it. I’ve got to check on something. I’ll make sure the horses are settled when I’m done.” He opened the truck door, tossed in the saddle where it would be safe from the elements and grabbed a piece of baling wire from behind the seat.
“I’ll throw the bedrolls in the back,” Ray offered as he opened the other door and slid behind the steering wheel.
“This won’t take long.”
Less than a minute later, Chace stood at Ellie’s camper door and rapped his knuckles hard on the aluminum. When he didn’t get a response, he pounded with his fist. From inside, he heard movement along with muffled curses that would make any cowboy proud.
“Who’s there?”
“Chace Brannigan.” The door flew open, forcing him to jump back to keep from being smacked with it.
Ellie stood in the opening with her fists planted on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Now what?”
Her choice of sleeping attire caught him by surprise and rendered him speechless. Boys’ cotton pajamas covered with brown bucking broncs on a tan background swallowed up her slight frame. The hem of the arms covered her hands, and the legs pooled at her feet where bare toes peeked beneath the too-long cuffs.
Movement forced his attention up when she crossed her arms. The action revealed a fair amount of smooth, tanned cleavage where the front gaped open, and he couldn’t stop looking.
“What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever seen a pair of pajamas?”
Chace swallowed.
“Well?”
“Not since I was eight years old. Not like…those.” He forced a grin and hoped it didn’t resemble a leer. Raising his gaze to lower the skyrocketing heat that threatened to cause him some embarrassment at any moment, he took in the angry line of compressed lips. Dark eyes flashed a warning, framed by unruly waves of silky hair from the braid she’d unleashed.
“What are you doing here, Brannigan?”
The ice in her voice brought him back to his senses. “The door.”
Her foot tapped beneath the loose pajama fabric. “What about it?”
“Close it and lock it behind me.”
“That’s the most intelligent thing you’ve said.” Her arms dropped to her sides, ending the display of suntanned flesh. Reaching out, she pulled the door shut, slamming it in his face.
He heard the snap of the lock and, “Good night, again, Mr. Brannigan.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. He stuck the wire into the keyhole and wiggled it while he turned the handle.
“What in the name of heaven are you—” the door pulled open to reveal her wide eyes and pale face “—doing?”
“That lock might as well be a piece of tape.” He removed the wire and held it up to show her. “Baling wire. Staple of any cowboy’s life.”
“I know that,” she snapped.
“You’re about as safe as—”
“I know that, too.” Biting her lip, she sank back against the counter and shook her head. Fear shimmered in her eyes. “Now what do I do?”
He stepped up and into the camper. “Long-term, we put a sizable lock on that door.”
“We?”
He shrugged. “Okay, I’ll put a lock on it.”
Her chin tilted up. “It’s my camper. My home.”
He considered her choice of words. “Maybe a home security system—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said in a huff, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
The thought of someone so small sleeping unguarded made his head ache. “What about tonight?”
Her brows drew together in a thoughtful frown, and one finger tapped her full lips.
“Hell’s bells,” he muttered at an imagined possession of those lips with his.
“Bells!” She spun around and bent over to dig through a cabinet tucked at the base of the over-the-cab sleeping area.
He bit back a groan and pried his gaze from the view of horses galloping across her delectable behind. He didn’t look back again until he heard a loud, nerve-rattling clang.
With a wide grin on her face, Ellie held up a large, brass cowbell. She gave him a push toward the door. “I’ll tie it on the doorknob. If anybody dares to touch that door during the night, I’ll be up in a flash.”
Considering how hard he’d had to knock, Chace doubted a shotgun blast would be enough to wake her, but he kept his opinion to himself. His truck was parked close enough that if the bell did ring, there’d be enough commotion to rouse him.
Her hand at his back, she gave him another shove. “Go on. Try it. But give me a second to get it tied on.”
Clamping his mouth shut on the protest he knew she’d argue with, he stepped out into the quiet night and took a deep breath. Crisp air filled his lungs as he heard the far-from-melodic clunk of the bell hitting the door as it closed behind him.
“Okay, try it,” she said from the other side.
He turned around and grabbed the knob, shaking it gently.
Clang. Clang.
The door opened a crack, and she peeked out at him, the bell jangling loud enough to wake the dead. “It works!” Her smile dimmed. “I guess I owe you…again.”
“It was your idea,” he reminded her.
She opened the door wider, her smile turning grateful. “Yeah, it was. But thanks for checking on the door. I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t shown me.”
He gazed at a figure that had to be a stretch to make five feet. His fingers itched to dip into the soft, buttery waves framing her face. Her features were as diminutive as the rest of her, except for the full, lush lips of her wide mouth and her enormous brown eyes. “My pleasure…again.”
He made his way back to his truck, wondering how such a pint-size woman could cause the way-too-tight fit of his jeans. Hell, he was thirty-three years old. Old enough to be her…A dozen words crossed his mind— brother, uncle, cousin—but only one stuck. Lover.
“Forget it, Brannigan. She’s a kid,” he reminded himself while he checked his roping horse and Ray’s. But his body told him she was a woman, in spite of her childlike size.
In the back of his pickup, he pulled his boots off and stretched out on the empty bedroll next to his buddy. Ignoring the snores, he folded his arms behind his head and studied the star-studded black sky. The night air held a definite chill he hoped would cool the flames licking at him. He needed to get his mind back on the business of rodeo. He’d never been responsible for anyone but himself. He’d be crazy to get involved with anything other than winning those buckles and saving his family’s ranch, the Triple B—especially a woman.
Hell’s bells, he thought with a sigh and a silent chuckle. What would the minibundle of trouble bring next?
The sound of pounding and a cowbell ringing jerked Ellie to a sitting position. With luck, she narrowly missed hitting her head on the low ceiling of the over-the-cab bed.
“What in tarnation is that awful racket?” joined the clanging of the bell.
A smile twisted Ellie’s mouth at the sound of the female voice announcing the identity of her visitor. “Hang on a sec, Reba.”
The noise ceased as she scrambled from her loft. She reached the door and opened it to offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”
A head of garish red hair preceded the plump, middle-aged woman into the camper. Her suspicious gaze landed on Ellie. “What’s goin’ on here?”
“It’s a long story.”
Shoving back the too-long sleeves of the pajamas she’d snitched from one of her brothers, Ellie tried to decide the best way to explain the bell without going into details. Until she could wake up completely and come to terms with what had happened last night and her ridiculous reaction to the cowboy, she didn’t want to say too much.
Reba Tucker, kindhearted soul that she was, wouldn’t take the news of the snake lightly. The woman had traveled the rodeo circuit with her steer-roper husband for too many years to let the incident slide by with nothing more than a comment or two. No, Reba would make a big fuss over it, and Ellie didn’t want to deal with a hysterical mother hen.
And she didn’t want to mention Chace Brannigan. That’s all Reba would need to set her off on her favorite topic: Cowboys Make Great Husbands. Nate Tucker might be among the best of spouses, but Ellie didn’t want a man who had Wrangler across his butt, or Justin’s on his feet and a Stetson on his head. She didn’t particularly want any man. She’d never needed one yet.
Dragging her fingers through her sleep-tangled hair, Ellie sighed. “I noticed the lock on my door isn’t working right. Until I can have it checked out, the cowbell is a great alarm.”
Reba crossed her arms on her ample chest and leaned one hip against the counter. “That’s it? Dang, girl, all you had to do was say somethin’ to Nate. He’d have skedaddled as fast as a rabbit with a hound dog on his tail to the nearest hardware store and had you snugged up like a baby in a blanket in no time.”
With a grateful smile, Ellie steered the conversation away from her jerry-rigged alarm system. “Is Nate riding in Phoenix?”
Reba nodded. “We’re planning to stop at Laura’s for a day to see my new grandbaby. You gonna compete after the cutoff date for Finals?”
“I may stop at the ranch. I can get some practice in there. And it may be the last time I get to see the place.”
Reba’s mouth settled into a frown. “It’s your home, girl. Yours and your brothers. You aren’t still plannin’ to sell it, are you?”
But it hadn’t been her home since she’d left it six years ago, when Matt turned eighteen, to travel the rodeo circuit. She had only returned when it was absolutely necessary, avoiding the memories she had trouble dealing with. She refused to let the ranch take her brothers’ lives as it had their parents’. Once it was sold, maybe she could finally escape the past.
Gripping the edge of the counter with one hand, she gathered her determination. “I’m selling. There won’t be any more working themselves into an early grave.”
Reba placed her hand on Ellie’s. “That was a freak accident that took your folks. That sorta thing don’t happen—”
“Ranching is a back-breaking, money-sucking way of life.” Ellie pulled away as gently as possible and shoved aside the painful memory of her parents. She couldn’t bear to think about the accident except to remind her that she had to make sure nothing like it would ever happen to the boys.
“They’re adults, Ellie. Let them make their own decisions.”
“I know that. I finished raising them after the folks—” Ellie stopped and took a deep breath. “I know the dangers of ranching. I can’t let anything happen to them. Especially after Matt broke his collarbone last year. It could’ve been worse. Much worse.”
“You weren’t even lookin’ to sell the place,” Reba pointed out as she’d done several times.
