One Rodeo Season

She hadn’t. If his ego got any bigger, it’d suffocate her. Dimly, she thought he might have been one of the cowboys standing around Slim last week, but she wasn’t sure.

She made an effort to bat her eyelashes. She wasn’t any good at it—hell, she couldn’t pull off flirting even when she wanted to—but option two was to start swinging later. And if Pretty Boy Jerome would shift his legs a bit, she’d have a clear shot to kneeing him in the groin. A girl had to do what a girl had to do to defend herself, because she hadn’t lied to Chief the other week. There were two kinds of men at these rodeos—the Slims and the Jeromes.

Lacy was about to make her move when something in the air shifted. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as they had last week when Slim had been threatening her—right before Ian had made himself known.

Ian.

Jerome leaned down, unaware of how the air had changed. His gaze dropped to her lips as he cupped her chin. No, no, no. She couldn’t fight the shiver of fear that went through her body, but Jerome either thought it was a shiver of desire or he wanted her afraid. She shifted her legs, hoping she had a clear shot of his crotch. He ran his thumb over her lip and said, “Why don’t we— Oof!”

Then Jerome was gone, being plowed sideways by something the size of a small bulldozer. No, not something—someone.

Two conflicting emotions hit her at the same time as Jerome hit a fence. One was sheer relief. She hadn’t had to defend herself and she hadn’t had to find out what a man like Jerome would do if he got his nuts crushed. For a second, she didn’t feel so alone in the world because Ian Tall Chief had her back—even when she was backed up against the trailer.

But the other was pure irritation. She could defend herself. She didn’t need help—or him. But it was too late—he was already helping her, and that put her in his debt. She didn’t want to owe him. She didn’t want to owe anyone.

“Touch her again and I’ll break every bone in your hand,” Ian growled, lifting Jerome by his shirt clean off the ground. A tearing sound filled the air.

“Jesus—” Jerome’s voice came out in a strangled squeak “—we were just talking!”

“Talk to someone else.” Still holding Jerome off the ground, Ian spun and threw him to the ground. Jerome crumpled like an empty feedbag. “Clear?”

“Jesus, Chief,” Jerome repeated, scrambling to his feet and spitting into the dirt. “What the hell is your deal?”

“She isn’t here for you.” Ian had the nerve to ball his hands into fists and take a step toward Jerome, who was now considerably less pretty. His face was an angry red, his shirt trashed and he was covered in dirt and worse. “Now move.”

Jerome did as he was told—but not until he’d straightened his shirt and dusted off his butt. He gave Ian a long look. “Another time?” he said, sounding less squeaky and more threatening.

Ian smiled, as if this was what he’d wanted to hear. “Anytime, man.”

Jerome nodded and turned. It wasn’t until he’d disappeared around some trailers that Lacy felt herself breathe again. Her knees felt wobbly and she wanted to lean against the trailer and allow herself a moment to process.

She did no such thing. She couldn’t, not with Ian standing there and watching her with an unsettling mixture of concern and anger in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and damn him, he sounded genuinely concerned. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

No. Yes. No.

How was it possible to be this irritated and this grateful at the same time? “I’m not here for you, either,” she told him, completely ignoring the fact that at least part of her was more than a little glad to see him.

He gave her a fierce look before his face settled back into something that looked almost disappointed. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

She should at least thank him. Why couldn’t she? She didn’t know. “Ian, I don’t need your help. I wish you’d listen to me.”

“No? So what was that all about? You can’t tell me you wanted that slime bag to be touching you. He was going to kiss you, Evans. More, knowing him.”

Evans? It felt weird to be called that. “Yes, and when he did, I was going to knee him in the groin and then punch him.” She turned back to her trailer. She had to get her bulls out and she’d be damned if she accepted any more help from one Ian Tall Chief. She couldn’t be beholden to him. “The situation was under control. I didn’t ask for a guardian angel.” Never mind that she might need one. “I can handle myself.”

“Yeah? What if Salzberg hadn’t taken kindly to getting his nuts crushed? Or what if Slim had showed up? You collect an awful lot of enemies, Evans.”

She gave him a pointed look. “It must be my sunny nature.”

That got her a smile—a full-on smile that took the remaining adrenaline still pumping through her body and drove it down deeper, where an unfamiliar warmth started to spread up her back.

Jerome Salzberg might have been pretty, but Ian Tall Chief was something else entirely—broad and muscled and completely unafraid of anyone or anything. And for some reason, he’d decided to keep an eye on her.

She couldn’t be his type. Hell, she wasn’t anyone’s type.

Something in Ian’s eyes deepened. Good lord, was she blushing? No. Not allowed. She would not let her body betray her like that. She turned back to the trailer and the stubborn bulls that wouldn’t get the hell out of it.

“Tell me you at least have a gun.” His voice was so serious that she was forced to turn around and look at him again.

“In the glove box.”

He scoffed. “Fat lot of good it’s going to do you there. Can you use it?”

She jammed her hands on her hips and tried to glare him to death. “What do you think? I’ve competed in mounted shooting events, thank you very much. Won a few, too.”

If Ian was insulted by her attitude, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked relieved. “Good. You should be wearing it. The next time someone gives you crap, shoot them in the knee.”

She looked at him. It appeared, whether she wanted one or not, she had a guardian angel. This realization made that warm sensation that had spread up her back burn hotter, until she was afraid she was going to start sweating. “Why are you helping me?”

He tilted his head from side to side, as if he was debating how to respond. “I have my reasons. And they have nothing to do with getting you into bed,” he added before she could snap off another insult. “Now, do you want help with your bulls or not?”

She knew she should say yes and let it drop. But she couldn’t. She kept pushing what little luck she had and the only reason she could even remotely come up with was that it felt safe to push Ian. “Is that why you’re here a day early? Because of the bulls?”

Ian gave her a little smile, one that somehow made him look innocent and yet not innocent at the same time. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t owe you money for that one bull. What was his name?”

“Rattler.” She stared at him a moment longer. She didn’t buy that he was here to check on Rattler but she didn’t not buy it when he said he wasn’t trying to get her into bed.

And honestly? She could use a hand, at least for right now.

Up to this point, Ian hadn’t done the best job following the simple directions to leave her alone. But he’d stood up for her—twice now. It was more than anyone else had done for her in the long months since her parents had died. What’s more than that, he looked her in the eyes when he talked to her.

But you touched him, a small voice piped up from the back of her mind. She’d put her hands on his massive chest and felt his muscles and he’d halted in his charge on Slim. And at no point had he suggested that contact between them “meant” that Lacy wanted him or anything other than what it was—she’d asked him to stop and he had.

That had to count for something.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you a thing.”

He smirked. “Are you always this stubborn, Evans?”

“I’m not stubborn.” Another lie. She ignored the incredulous look on his face and turned back to the trailer. “And my name’s Lacy.”

* * *

LACY. OF COURSE she was Lacy. Underneath that pricklier-than-hell exterior, she was probably soft and gentle.

There might be a part of her that was quiet and sweet—as there was a part of her that wanted his help—but it wasn’t a part she was all that excited to share with him, and it’d be best if he didn’t allow his thoughts to wander off in that direction. Even if she didn’t have a pistol on her, she had a gun and she knew how to use it—and he’d basically told her to shoot him if he did anything underhanded.