The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel. Pamela Britton

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The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel - Pamela Britton Cowboys in Uniform

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and Natalie had matching trucks, except for their different colors, and they’d clearly returned from running errands. Chance hadn’t heard them leave this morning, which just went to show how completely wiped he’d been from his long journey home. It’d been an eight-hour hitch to Europe, then another eight across the pond. A quick stop on the East Coast, where he’d managed to snatch a nap in an empty hangar only to be headed out again less than an hour later. All told, he’d traveled for twenty-four hours. He’d gone straight to bed once he’d arrived home. Not that it’d helped. He was still bone tired.

      “I’ll go in and talk to him,” he said.

      “No. That’s okay. I can explain the situation.”

      Yup. Independent.

      He shook his head. “We’ll go in together.”

      It was strange walking up to the house he’d grown up in. Strange and unsettling, in a way. Saying he’d had a bad childhood was like saying Abraham Lincoln had a bad night at the theater. His father had terrified all three of his kids, but he’d taken out his temper on Colt the most. His brother used to say their dad tried out his evil tricks on him first, then used them on Chance or Claire. As they’d gotten older, they’d gotten wiser, especially Colt. He’d taken to preempting their dad, but not always. There’d been times when none of them had been able to avoid the drunken fits.

      And so as Chance turned the handle to the front door, he braced himself. He hadn’t been inside since his brother’s wedding, not even when he’d returned home last night, and he really wasn’t sure what to expect.

      “Anyone home?” he called, though he knew there was. He took two steps and then stopped.

      Where before there’d been a small sitting room and a room beyond, there was now open space. The wall he’d been thrown against as a twelve-year-old—after he’d dared to tell his dad he was too sick to walk to school—had been removed. The kitchen was still to his right, but the wall separating it from the sitting room had been removed. The whole first floor was open, and it felt so different that he instantly relaxed.

      “We’re up here,” a female voice called. His sister-in-law, Natalie. “In your old room.”

      He caught Carolina’s eye. She couldn’t seem to stop her gaze from moving around the room, as if she were in awe of the scope of the place, and maybe even a little intimidated.

      “I’ll stay down here,” she said.

      “No. Come up. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

      He glanced around again. It was like a whole new home.

      Maybe that was the point.

      He glanced at Carolina. She clearly didn’t want to go, but he touched her shoulder and urged her forward. He could feel the tension beneath his hand as they headed toward the stairs on the left. The staircase was the one thing that hadn’t changed. The oak banister he’d tried to slide down still existed. His father used to make them march up those stairs when they’d been bad. Chance remembered looking up at the top landing, heart pounding...

      Enough.

      That was in the past. He was a different person. Not the frightened child who’d grown up with an abusive father. And this was a different house. Pictures of Natalie jumping the most amazing horses hung on the stairwell wall. Pictures of his brother, too, at rodeos and reining competitions. Pictures of Natalie’s protégée, Laney, in the winner’s circle. And in the middle of it all, a picture of the three of them, Colt, Claire and Chance, blown up big, and smiling. He was young. His mom held him in her lap, which meant his dad must have taken the picture.

      “Is that you?” Carolina asked.

      He jerked his gaze away from the image. “Yup.” He tapped the picture. “And Claire and Colt.” Not that anyone would need to be told. They all had dark hair. Only the eyes were different. Colt’s were hazel, Claire’s and his own eyes were green.

      “You were so young,” she observed.

      “Yes, we were.”

      There had been good times, he reminded himself, heading the rest of the way up the stairs before she could ask any more questions. His trip down memory lane had started to sink his mood, and he refused to let his father have that kind of power over him. Not ever again.

      “Hey, guys,” he said, stopping before his old room, first door on the left, a smile instantly lifting his lips. It looked as though a box factory had exploded.

      “Hey, you two,” Natalie said, returning his grin somewhat sheepishly as she, too, peered around the room, her hands on her pregnant belly.

      “How’d you sleep?” Colt asked with an equally wide smile, getting up from the floor and dodging some boxes. After Colt had finished thumping him on the back, he leaned back and clutched his shoulders. It was good to look into his brother’s eyes.

      Chance chuckled. “I never made it off the couch.”

      “You didn’t?”

      He shook his head. “Just stripped down to my Skivvies and passed out.”

      He glanced at Carolina. She had the same look on her face as someone who’d just discovered their zipper was down. He almost felt bad for her. Almost. He’d never been one to resist teasing a person.

      “Lucky I wasn’t naked when Carolina here came bursting through the door this afternoon.”

      “I didn’t burst,” she said, tipping her chin up before looking at his brother and his wife. “I thought the place was empty.”

      “She knew I was half-naked and wanted a glimpse of my hot stud flesh.”

      Carolina gasped.

      “Chance!” his sister-in-law said. “Quit teasing her. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

      He almost said that was the point, but held his tongue. The blush staining Carolina’s cheeks was adorable.

      Adorable?

      Best not to dwell on that too long.

      “I’m glad he was able to help you out,” Colt said to Carolina. “Although I think you should start leaving a spare set of keys here.”

      “I think you’re right,” she grumbled.

      It was then that Chance noticed what his brother and sister-in-law were doing. “Wow.”

      “Baby equipment,” Colt explained, going back to his position on the floor and picking up a screwdriver. “Changing table, crib, a new dresser that should have taken me ten minutes to put together.” He rubbed his jaw. “But it’s been a little longer than that.”

      “Because he won’t listen.” Natalie’s blue eyes were clearly teasing.

      “Why should I follow the directions?” Colt asked. “Obviously, they’re for dummies. We’re not dummies. I can figure it out on my own.”

      Natalie tsked. “Said the man who built the chicken coop that fell down two days later.”

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