LITMIR.BIZ

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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, cousin—but only one stuck. Lover.

      “Forget it, Brannigan. She’s a kid,” he reminded himself while he checked his roping horse and Ray’s. But his body told him she was a woman, in spite of her childlike size.

      In the back of his pickup, he pulled his boots off and stretched out on the empty bedroll next to his buddy. Ignoring the snores, he folded his arms behind his head and studied the star-studded black sky. The night air held a definite chill he hoped would cool the flames licking at him. He needed to get his mind back on the business of rodeo. He’d never been responsible for anyone but himself. He’d be crazy to get involved with anything other than winning those buckles and saving his family’s ranch, the Triple B—especially a woman.

      Hell’s bells, he thought with a sigh and a silent chuckle. What would the minibundle of trouble bring next?

      The sound of pounding and a cowbell ringing jerked Ellie to a sitting position. With luck, she narrowly missed hitting her head on the low ceiling of the over-the-cab bed.

      “What in tarnation is that awful racket?” joined the clanging of the bell.

      A smile twisted Ellie’s mouth at the sound of the female voice announcing the identity of her visitor. “Hang on a sec, Reba.”

      The noise ceased as she scrambled from her loft. She reached the door and opened it to offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

      A head of garish red hair preceded the plump, middle-aged woman into the camper. Her suspicious gaze landed on Ellie. “What’s goin’ on here?”

      “It’s a long story.”

      Shoving back the too-long sleeves of the pajamas she’d snitched from one of her brothers, Ellie tried to decide the best way to explain the bell without going into details. Until she could wake up completely and come to terms with what had happened last night and her ridiculous reaction to the cowboy, she didn’t want to say too much.

      Reba Tucker, kindhearted soul that she was, wouldn’t take the news of the snake lightly. The woman had traveled the rodeo circuit with her steer-roper husband for too many years to let the incident slide by with nothing more than a comment or two. No, Reba would make a big fuss over it, and Ellie didn’t want to deal with a hysterical mother hen.

      And she didn’t want to mention Chace Brannigan. That’s all Reba would need to set her off on her favorite topic: Cowboys Make Great Husbands. Nate Tucker might be among the best of spouses, but Ellie didn’t want a man who had Wrangler across his butt, or Justin’s on his feet and a Stetson on his head. She didn’t particularly want any man. She’d never needed one yet.

      Dragging her fingers through her sleep-tangled hair, Ellie sighed. “I noticed the lock on my door isn’t working right. Until I can have it checked out, the cowbell is a great alarm.”

      Reba crossed her arms on her ample chest and leaned one hip against the counter. “That’s it? Dang, girl, all you had to do was say somethin’ to Nate. He’d have skedaddled as fast as a rabbit with a hound dog on his tail to the nearest hardware store and had you snugged up like a baby in a blanket in no time.”

      With a grateful smile, Ellie steered the conversation away from her jerry-rigged alarm system. “Is Nate riding in Phoenix?”

      Reba nodded. “We’re planning to stop at Laura’s for a day to see my new grandbaby. You gonna compete after the cutoff date for Finals?”

      “I may stop at the ranch. I can get some practice in there. And it may be the last time I get to see the place.”

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