Rancher and Protector. Pamela Britton

but she could feel him glancing at her. Every time he did, it was like warm flashes of sunlight touched her—which, honestly, was a strange thing to think.

      “Someday,” she said. “How about you? What made you want to work for Camp Cowboy?”

      “I didn’t.”

      That made her stop brushing for a second. “Excuse me?”

      “I heard about this place from a friend. He told me I should apply. So I did.”

      She didn’t know why that stunned her, but it did. She’d just assumed everyone who worked at Camp Cowboy had done so out of a need to serve. To make the world a better place. To reach out and maybe help a child.

      Her life’s mission, thanks to Dee.

      “So if your friend hadn’t suggested you apply, you’d have … what?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t know what I would have done for cash. Found something else.”

      “But you wanted to work with special needs kids, didn’t you?”

      She could tell he didn’t want to answer her question because his eyes flicked over Flash as he groomed, then to her, then back again. “My first love is rodeo,” he admitted.

      Of course. She should have known.

       Just like her sister’s husband.

      Amber was certain the rodeo lifestyle had corrupted Logan to the point of no return. Cowboys boozed it up and chased women. That’s what her sister said, and Amber believed it. “I know someone who used to do that.”

      “Yeah?” Colt asked.

      But she wasn’t ready to answer questions about Dee’s father, even though she was curious if the two knew each other. The man was better off gone from their lives, something that was hard to explain to strangers.

      “Please tell me you at least like kids?” she replied, trying to change the subject.

      He paused. “Kids and I don’t get along.”

      Her body turned into a pillar of salt—or so it felt. “What the heck are you doing here then?”

      He looked her right in the eye. She watched as he tried to find the words. In the end he simply shrugged and said, “Searching for something.”

       Chapter Four

      Now why the heck had he gone and said that? he wondered, flicking the brush over Flash’s back harder than necessary. Flash pinned his ears, and Cold patted his rump in apology.

      “Searching for what?” she asked, clearly curious.

      “I don’t know,” he hedged, then shrugged. “But the rodeo life, it’s getting hard.”

      That’s why he had to do this. Time was running out—and she was his ticket to the big leagues.

      “So quit,” she suggested.

      “No,” he said. “Not yet.”

      Because he could still do this thing. He just needed to figure out a way to discover where Rudy was without feeling like a complete jerk in the process.

      You are a jerk.

      Amber was shaking her head, and he could tell she didn’t like his answer. Not only that, but she almost appeared disappointed.

      “Okay,” she said brightly—too brightly. “What’s next?”

      He wondered if he should push the issue. Ask her about the guy she knew on the rodeo circuit. Logan. It had to be Logan. It was the perfect way to get her to talk. That’s what he should do. Instead, he found himself gesturing with his chin. “Saddle first, then bridle.”

      “And how do you do that?”

      “Here.” He scooped up the saddle blanket. “This goes on first.” He made sure it was placed squarely. “Then the saddle,” he said, swinging it onto the horse’s back.

      “How come I have this feeling it’s a lot harder than it looks?”

      He pulled the saddle off and demonstrated again. But the whole time he worked with her, he found himself wondering if Logan might be wrong about her. Was that possible? Was there more to the story than met the eye? And why the hell did Colt keep thinking about his ranch all of a sudden? He hadn’t been back to Texas in years, not since he was seventeen….

       Don’t go down that road again, buddy.

      “Is that thing going in there?” she asked.

      They’d reached the part where it was time to bridle the horse. Colt realized it was the bit she was staring at.

      “It is,” he said, telling himself to smile. Except he couldn’t bring himself to do much more than say, “Don’t worry. Doesn’t hurt. He knows the deal. Watch.” He showed her how Flash had been taught to take the bit.

      Could Logan be wrong? Or worse, lying?

      Damn it. Colt wished he could just ask.

      “Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked when the metal clunked against the gelding’s teeth.

      “Only if you don’t know what you’re doing,” he said. Just focus on what you’re here to do. “But you will,” he quickly reassured her. “Here. I’ll show you.” Because that’s what he’d been hired to do—help out with the horses.

      “Can I try?” she asked.

      “Sure.” He slipped the bridle off again and handed it to her.

       Just tough it out.

      When the camp closed in eight weeks, it was back to rodeo—with his pockets full and a new horse to ride.

      “Hold it from the top,” he instructed when she looked at the bridle, baffled. She moved the bit close to Flash’s mouth, but when the gelding jerked his head back, she jumped as if he’d tried to bite her.

      “You know, I’m starting to think you don’t like horses,” Colt said.

      “I don’t.”

      He thought he misheard her. “Excuse me?”

      “They intimidate the hell out of me.”

      “Then what the heck are you doing here?” he found himself asking.

      She looked at the animal, then at the stable where he’d come from. “This is the wave of the future,” she said. “Or at least that’s what research shows. There have been studies recently, really amazing studies, that prove an animal can connect with special needs children in a way that defies explanation. I have to do this.”

      “Why?”

      She flicked her chin up. “Because.”

      Was it because of her nephew? Logan had admitted his son wasn’t quite “normal,” but said he just had a learning disability. Was that what drove Amber’s passion?

      “If you don’t want to be afraid of horses, you need to realize something.”

      “What’s that?” she asked, the bridle in her hand forgotten.

      “They’re like dogs.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Like a gigantic Mac,” Colt amended. “Really. Most horses are just as smart as Mac in there—sometimes smarter.”

      As if his dog had been listening, Amber heard him yelp.

      “Is he okay?”

      “He’s fine. He just wants to be out with us.”

      “That’d be okay with me.”

      “No,”