Chapter Two
Bleary-eyed from too little sleep, Chace let the stinging spray of the primitive shower near the arena clear the fog from his brain. To his disgust, his sharper mind left him with vivid memories of the night before.
“Hell,” he muttered when his body began to spring to life. He’d spent half the night listening for the clang of a bell and the other half considering a cold shower. There were other remedies for his problem. One idea, which included hauling a particular petite package into his arms, he promptly discarded. Reviewing every millisecond of his latest ride in his mind would be safer. And damn sure more productive.
Dressed again and whistling an off-key tune, he started for his truck. As soon as Ray returned with a thermos of coffee, they’d be on the road. With barely a month to go until the official end of the season, Chace was eager to get to Phoenix. After that, only a few more rodeos until National Finals. Then, if everything went well, he could retire. The money he hoped to win would keep the Triple B Ranch in the black and put an end to worrying about losing it. That, and stop his youngest brother’s plans to turn the family spread into a dude ranch. Hell, he didn’t want strangers traipsing all over the place.
Once back home again, he could begin to make up for leaving Trey to deal with the ranch on his own. Maybe they’d even get lucky enough to entice their brother, Dev, to come home. Working together, they could keep it out of the wrong hands and make the place the successful ranch it had once been. Four generations of Brannigans had owned and worked the Triple B, and he and his brothers had fought to keep it after their father’s death. He knew he belonged there. He’d ducked his responsibilities for too long.
Wide awake, and with his hormones under control and well leashed, Chace didn’t bother to steer clear of Ellie’s camper. But he didn’t expect to find temptation in a tank top as she leaned over to hook her horse trailer to her pickup, offering him a much better glimpse than the pajama top had the previous night.
“Hell and damnation,” he grumbled, knowing that’s exactly what he was in for if she didn’t straighten up and change the view.
To his relief, she moved, but only to the opposite side of the trailer hitch, giving him an eyeful of worn denim stretched tight across the best-looking little backside he’d seen in a long time. It was even better without the pajama horses galloping across it. The sight pulled a tortured groan from him. If he had any sense, he’d turn around and walk back to his truck and forget all about it. But his feet wouldn’t move away any faster than his eyes.
As he watched her wrestle with the coupling, he clenched his hands into fists. He had to do something besides stand there with his tongue hanging out like a panting dog. When she gave the bumper an angry kick, he moved into action.
“I’ll get it,” he growled.
Her head jerked up, her eyes wide but narrowing as he closed the gap between them. “I can do it,” she announced, giving him her back and bending over again.
Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead when he stopped behind her. All he had to do was take hold of those mind-blowing curves and pull her up against him. He placed his hands on her hips, but forced himself to scoot her aside. “Let me do it.”
“It’s my rig,” she said in a tight voice from behind him while he gave the hitch a nudge.
“And it’ll be your smashed fingers,” he replied, snapping the ball cover in place. He turned to find her slipping into a faded chambray shirt and noticed her hands tremble as she fought the buttons.
Anger? He hoped not. He wanted to have the same effect on her that she had on him. It would serve her right.
With her head down and her face hidden from view, her fingers fumbled with the last button. “I’ve been managing my own truck and trailer for almost ten years, since I was old enough to drive. I’ve hooked them up thousands of times.”
He detected a tremor in her voice, but when her head came up and she looked at him, he saw the flash of defiance in her eyes. Damn, she was one stubborn woman.
“Look, Brannigan, I appreciate what you did for me last night, but I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself. Just let me get loaded and on the road.” She did a quick pivot and marched to untie her horse from the back of a nearby truck.
He moved out of her way and leaned back against the side of the trailer, watching in silence as she loaded her horse into her trailer with the skill of a seasoned professional. Maybe she didn’t need his help now, but without it the night before, no telling what she would have done. Her gentle handling of her horse proved she wasn’t as tough as she might want him to believe. And the stubborn tilt of her chin as she stomped past him to the cab of her truck didn’t erase the memory of the terror he’d seen in her eyes the previous night. It only aggravated him.
He stalked to the truck’s door, reaching it as she slammed it shut with such force it could have registered on the Richter Scale. Planting his hands on the edge where the window was rolled down, he leaned in, his face inches from hers. “You may not want my help, but you sure as hell need it.”
A red flush flooded her cheeks, and her chin went up another notch. “Get your face out of my truck,” she said in a haughty tone.
“Now look here, little bit, I got rid—”
“Don’t!” The crimson shade of her face went deathly pale. Tears glistened in her dark eyes, and she squeezed them shut. “Don’t ever call me that.”
Reaching in, he cradled her cheek in his hand. “Aw, hon, I didn’t mean to—”
“Leave me alone,” she whispered. “Please.” When her lids fluttered open, she turned her head, slipping away from him, and she reached for the ignition. Gunning the motor, she slammed the truck into gear, spewing dirt behind her tires and nearly taking his head and hand with her.
Chace stood staring after her. What the hell had he done? Was his touch so repulsive to her? No, it hadn’t been that. He’d felt her lean into his palm, felt her tremble in his hand. Then dammit, why would she shake him off like water on a wet dog?
He made his way to his own truck and trailer, cursing himself for caring when she obviously wasn’t interested. He’d forget about her by the time he got to Phoenix.
But once on the road, he found it harder than he’d thought to rid himself of her reaction to his touch and his body’s response. Five hundred miles later, with Ray jabbering away the entire trip, Chace wished he’d asked her where she’d be riding next. He had a few questions, when and if he caught up with her. And he’d damn well get some answers.
Ellie pulled her rig in behind the arena near Phoenix just after noon on Friday. She’d made good time, but a week on the road, even though she hadn’t rushed, left her exhausted. Sometimes it was more tiring than the competing.
Each weekend she competed somewhere, earning or not earning enough to place among the top fifteen money winners by the end of the season. Only those placing qualified for the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas, held the first week of each December. As soon as she finished in Phoenix, she’d head for Austin to do the same thing again. And again, until she hopefully made it to Finals. There would be a month break before that first week in December, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. This time she couldn’t avoid going home.
Home. Ellie sighed and climbed out of her pickup to check on Sky Dancer,
