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,
