He was one big cowboy. She reasoned that he wasn’t any bigger than a dozen other cowboys she knew, but he sure seemed like it. Strength radiated from him, overpowering her senses and leaving her tongue-tied.
“My pleasure.” His voice was a husky whisper.
When he didn’t let go immediately, she slowly raised her gaze past the solid, muscled chest she’d leaned against, over a strong, chiseled chin and jaw. Lingering on lips set in a crooked smile, she looked up into twinkling eyes. That was enough to remind her of what was happening. What was she thinking?
She jerked her hand from his, leaving a tingling sensation in her fingers. She had more sense than to be mesmerized by a hunky cowboy with cool pools of blue for eyes. She’d had enough of cowboys and ranches to last her the rest of her life. And all of it learned at the price of her parents’ lives. No, she was not looking for a cowboy. No way, no how.
“Well, thanks again,” she said, hoping to get him out of the camper in a hurry.
He didn’t budge. “You had a good ride tonight.”
She shrugged, trying to relax in spite of the way he was looking at her. “Not bad.”
“It was good enough to keep you ahead and win the first-place prize money. You’re standing pretty high in the rankings.”
Ellie nodded. A few more wins and she’d have a secure spot for the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas. Winning the Barrel Racing title wasn’t important. She only wanted to compete. Once. And then she’d be done with it. Retired. She’d leave her gypsy life-style behind for an easy life in the city. Easier than going from rodeo to rodeo, at least. Much easier than living on the Oklahoma ranch her parents had left her and her brothers. A ranch she didn’t want to return to. Ever.
“I’m really tired,” she told the cowboy, when she realized he was still standing before her. “If you don’t mind…”
“Oh. Yeah. Guess it is late.” Hesitating, as if he’d just been shaken out of a deep sleep, he finally turned for the door, opened it and stepped down.
Ellie let out a sigh of relief, welcoming the breathing space his departure gave her. She was ready to collapse into bed—clothes, boots and all.
“Be sure and lock up,” he reminded her, sticking his head back inside.
“I will.” She waited for him to close the door, but he stood watching her. “As soon as you leave,” she added as incentive.
“I’m Chace Brannigan.”
“I know.” Did he think she was deaf and blind? Who didn’t know Chace Brannigan? She’d heard of the three-time champion saddle-bronc rider and seen his pictures plastered in every rodeo magazine in the country, but their paths had never crossed. The roller-coaster ride her stomach was on made her wish they hadn’t this time, either.
“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
