and knew better than to let it happen. He and the other three leaders were so close he couldn’t let up much until after the final ride of the season. Concentration was the key. One slip up, one bad fall because his mind wasn’t fully on his ride, and he might as well kiss his chance at any title goodbye. That wouldn’t help the Triple B. As the oldest, it was his responsibility to see that the ranch prospered. They couldn’t lose it the way they nearly had once. Mistakes and distractions were out of the question.
When he spied Ellie’s pickup and camper to his left, he made a decision. He might be attracted to the miniature ball of fire, but he hadn’t lost his mind. She’d told him flat-out that she didn’t want him around. He’d been fool enough to let his body rule his brains. And he was getting too old to do that. No more. He’d steer clear of her from here on out.
Before he had a chance to backtrack and change his route, he saw Ellie approaching her camper. He stopped in midstride. She wasn’t alone. He had a brief glimpse of a man with her, wearing a white shirt and tie, and carrying a suit coat slung over his shoulder. A cold hard ball of busted pride lodged in Chace’s gut when he saw the bouquet of flowers in her hand. He’d been a bigger fool than he’d thought. She already had a man, and by the look of him, a simple rodeo cowboy would fail to measure up. Even if the cowboy won a dozen National Championships.
Disgusted with himself, Chace dared a last glance at the couple before he moved on to the stock pens. What he saw made his blood run cold, then hot. “Son of a—”
Ellie stood propped against the side of her camper gazing up at the last man he’d expect to see at a rodeo.
“Maybe a little competition from the right man would improve her eyesight.”
Chace spun around to see Reba approaching. He would gladly give James Robert Staton a lot of things, including a shiner he owed him, but he remembered his decision to stay away from Ellie Warren. “Find another man, Reba. I’ve got a double championship to take care of, not a pint-size bundle of fireworks—who doesn’t like me—to tangle with.”
A glance at her told him she would hang on to this crazy idea she had like a dog with an old bone if he didn’t set her straight. Sighing, he shook his head. “Not this time, Reba. You keep this to yourself, but this is my last year. I go out in a blaze of glory or I go out a loser.”
Reba patted his arm with one plump hand. “You’ll never be a loser, Chace Brannigan. It’s not in you. But that man is nothin’ but trouble.”
Chace almost choked on his reply when he saw the object of their conversation reach out to push back a stray strand of Ellie’s hair that had escaped her braid. “What do you mean?”
Reba’s eyes flashed with impatience. “You’re a man. Figure it out.”
Chace didn’t want to consider the implication of her words. Just watching Ellie conjured up an image of rumpled sheets and passion-drenched nights. Everybody else might see her as Ellie, a diminutive tomboy on a horse, taking barrels like the champ she would someday be. But Chace’s eyes and body told him her dynamite temper and obstinate attitude hid something deeper. A passion he hoped to unleash and, at the same time, prayed he wouldn’t.
When he turned around, Reba was gone. He had to make a decision. In spite of his earlier vow to stay away from the little spitfire, he wasn’t about to let the man he’d known as Jimmy Bob since they were kids pull any of his con man tricks on her. Ellie needed protecting. And Chace was the man to do it.
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