drawing her attention. “I don’t think they’ve completely babied it out. And they won’t mind, not once we explain the situation.”
Oh, yeah, sure. Explain that Carolina’s ex-boyfriend was even crazier than she’d thought. Great.
Do not start crying.
She inhaled sharply. Tears were for babies. She wasn’t one and she wouldn’t act like one, either. So what if she was in a spot of trouble with her ex? She’d deal with it. And she had help, she thought, glancing at her companion in the truck. Chance was much younger than her boss, at least five years, but clearly older than her. And while her boss was a handsome older man, Chance Reynolds wasn’t handsome. The former Army Ranger was drop-dead gorgeous. Like Tatum Channing, only with a way better body. She should know. She’d seen the whole enchilada.
Carolina!
“Have you lived here long?” he asked.
“My whole life.” She’d known who the Reynoldses were long before they’d known her. Their father was legendary in rodeo circles. A member of the Hall of Fame, a world-renowned horse trainer. She’d heard about the dark side of Zeke Reynolds, too. His infamous temper. His ghastly horse-training techniques. Even that he might have beaten the boys and their sister. She’d seen no evidence of it, though. Her boss never spoke ill of his dad, and when she’d brought Zeke Reynolds up one day, all Colt had done was shrug and repeat what Carolina thought—the man had been a legend.
“You go to the local high school?” Chance asked.
The only high school. “Via Del Caballo High.”
“Go, Chargers,” Colt sang.
She smiled. A rearing horse was the school’s mascot, and it was the reason why she’d gotten into horses, much to her mother’s dismay. Carolina had always been fascinated by them, but when one of the local cowboys had brought his horse to the football game her freshman year—in a foil and cardboard costume made to look like armor, of course—she’d been able to touch one for the first time. It’d been over for her ever since. Once she’d looked into those liquid brown eyes, her life had changed.
“You graduated a few years ahead of me,” she said. “I remember your sister, Claire. She graduated my freshman year. She always seemed nice.”
“My sister is the best,” Chance said. “Kills me what she’s been through.”
Cancer. Not Claire, her son. Leukemia. But they had it on the run, she’d heard.
“You’d never know there was anything amiss from meeting her.”
Claire Reynolds was her hero. A woman she could look up to, and she did. Natalie Reynolds, too. Natalie had been in a horrible riding accident before she’d met Colt. They’d told her she’d never walk again, and now look. By comparison, Carolina’s problems seemed small.
“Everyone has a cross to bear,” he said softly.
She gulped at the kindness and understanding in his eyes. She forced her gaze away and out the window. They were out in what Carolina used to call the boondocks back when she was growing up. The town of Via Del Caballo had faded into tiny ranches—or wannabe ranches, as Carolina called them—single-story houses surrounded by white fences and small arenas. She glanced behind them again. Still no 4x4 in sight.
“We’re not being followed,” Chance said.
She jerked around so fast her braids nearly hit her in the face. “How do you know?”
“Simple.” He glanced at her quickly, the line of his jaw so strong and masculine she swallowed. “I doubled back when we were in town.”
He had? Good heavens. She hadn’t even noticed.
“You should get in the habit of that, too,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Pick a street you know isn’t a dead end, one that will allow you to double back. If someone’s following you, they’ll take the same route, and you’ll know it’s a bad guy, because nobody’s going to do circles for no reason.”
She nodded.
“And don’t assume he’ll be in his truck, either.”
She glanced at him sharply, because that’s exactly what she’d been looking for.
“He could change vehicles.” He rested his wrist on the top of the steering wheel in a manner of complete ease. She supposed compared to driving in a war zone, her situation must seem like Disneyland to him. “And if you are being followed, don’t let on that you know. The worst thing you can do is speed up and try and outrun him.”
“What do I do?”
“Call 911. Or me. Head to the police station. The man’s not going to follow you there. Not unless he’s stupid.”
She hadn’t really thought about that. Yipes.
“If you aren’t paying attention,” Chance continued, “and you notice he’s followed you to the ranch, don’t worry too much. Just come on inside. He’s not going to come down our road, and if he does, I’ll take care of him.”
“What about Natalie’s clients? Or Claire’s? What if he somehow sneaks in thanks to them? What if he hides out or waits until I’m alone?”
Claire ran a canine rescue not far from where Colt lived. Natalie ran a successful horse-jumping business. There was no telling who might accidentally let James in—if it came to that. Carolina doubted he’d come after her like that, though. He was simply mad she’d turned him in. It made him feel like a big man to terrorize her. He was succeeding, and that made her angry all over again. No man should ever have that kind of power over a woman.
“I’ll have Claire call her clients tonight and explain what’s going on.”
Oh, great.
“I’ll ask Natalie to take precautions with her clients, too.”
So the whole family would now know what an idiot ex-boyfriend she had. Terrific.
BITCH.
Her skin prickled as she recalled the red color. She never would have thought he’d go that far. Now that some of the shock had faded, it made her furious. How dare he deface her property? Granted, it was just a tiny apartment, but she’d worked hard to get the place, and now her landlord would likely throw a fit—and she’d have to pay to fix it, too.
“It’ll be okay,” Chance said, patting her leg, which made her madder, because she wasn’t some little girl who needed a pat on the head—or the leg, as the case might be. She was a full-on adult who could take care of herself.
Then why are you glad a former Army Ranger is sitting next to you? And why are you grateful he’ll be with you tonight? And why does the sight of his hand on your leg make you all squirmy inside?
They were questions she refused to answer.
* * *
PRICKLY.
That was the word he would use to describe her. Chance pulled his brother’s black truck into
