Page 3 of Chance (Wild River Ranch #3)

The thud of a punch preceded Trace’s exasperated, “He doesn’t, you idiot.”

Chance only heard the scuffle behind him. It would have made him smile except for the sight that met him when he entered the kitchen. The woman he’d been trying to catch all day was helping herself to the leftovers from the Friendsgiving.

That just proved his suspicions. Slowly, so as not to draw attention, he took the rope, now right where it was supposed to be, coiled and hanging from the clasp on his belt.

The little thief looked up as soon as he started twirling his lasso, but it was too late. He tossed the loop and jerked the lariat taut as soon as it landed on its naughty target, causing her to drop the dipper she was holding back into its pot.

“Hey!” she called out, but no one would be coming to her defense.

“Howdy, ma’am. You should have tried saying hello earlier, instead of leadin’ me on a hell of a chase all day.”

She tugged on the rope and tried to pull it from his hands. “Get me out of this, you… you mean old rodeo clown. You can’t just lasso people for no reason.”

“Hey! Who are you callin’ old? And it’s my ranch you were puttin’ yourself in danger on. That means I can do whatever I want.”

Fuck, could he sound any less mature and in control?

He pulled her to him faster, before she could hurt herself. If she kept up all that racket, his entire family would soon be watching them from the kitchen doorway. Well, one way to fix that.

He hadn’t been born and raised on a ranch for nothing. As soon as she was close enough, he bound her wrists together as well as her ankles. “You might want to quit the struggle for this next part,” he warned her. “I’d hate to drop you. ”

“Drop me? What do you mean—oof!”

None too gently, he tossed the woman over his shoulder and headed for the walk-in pantry where they could continue their conversation in private.

She fought more than a cutthroat trout on the hook.

Giving in to his nature, he smacked her bottom.

“I said, quit strugglin’. You’re gonna hurt yourself. ”

She went rigid over his shoulder. He could have sworn he heard her say something about, “might as well be in Nameless,” but that didn’t make any sense.

Once they were in the pantry and out of sight of the crowd, he set her on her feet, leaning her against the large table in the middle of the room. He pinned her in place with a stern look. Calm, he needed to remain calm.

Starting at the free end of his rope, he took his time coiling it back up. “I’m going to take the rope off you so we can talk. But if you run, I’ll call Grant Spicer, the head of ranch security. He’ll haul you down to the sheriff’s office, and we can have our talk there. How does that sound?”

He hid his concern when the little color she had left in her cheeks disappeared. Was she in trouble with the law? That was the last thing he needed.

“You have security? For a ranch?”

They did now, after everything they’d gone through with the Midnight Cosa Nostra. “We have guests who come out to enjoy the ranch and hunt from late spring to early fall. Between that and the danger of rustlers, not to mention trespassers, we absolutely have security.”

Of course, they also knew their way around a ranch and could help with that as well, but she didn’t need to know that. Her shoulders slumped, and the fight seemed to drain out of her before his eyes.

“I won’t run. I wouldn’t have run in the first place if you hadn’t been barreling toward me wearing such a mean, scary face. ”

That hadn’t been meanness. It had been terror.

Still, he hated she’d been afraid of him for some reason.

“Was it my fault you trespassed on my land? Or snuck into my house and helped yourself to my food? Was it also my fault you climbed a fence and got into a pen with the meanest bull this side of the Rockies? Do you have any idea what Ironside could have done to you? What the hell were you thinking, Little girl?”

He hadn’t meant to call her that. He would have apologized, but she didn’t seem to mind. Interesting. Still, he had no business calling her Little anything.

Instead of responding with the fear he expected, she wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something offensive. “Is that his name? I think you should change it. He doesn’t look like an Ironside.”

He shouldn’t ask. He should find out if she mistreated any of the townspeople who were under his protection, since they were on his ranch. Then he should get her off his ranch. “And what name would you suggest?”

Damn it.

“Hmm. I think you should call him Bullwinkle.”

She finished her declaration with a nod, beaming up at him as if waiting for praise.

“No,” he said.

Her shoulders dropped again. “Why don’t you like Bullwinkle? Bullwinkle's a bull.”

“Ironside is a bison.”

She crossed her arms. “I know.”

“Bullwinkle is a moose."

Her brow wrinkled and it was fucking adorable. “Oh. Right. Well, that doesn’t matter. He still looks like a Bullwinkle to me.”

This was the craziest conversation he’d ever had, and that was saying something with two Littles living in the family lodge. “Why were you taking pictures of the guests? ”

“Why? Do you want a copy? They’d look great on your website and socials. I can share them with you.”

Here we go. Now they were getting somewhere. “For a reasonable fee, I suppose?”

She frowned. “Were you caught up in one of those pyramid schemes or something? To have so many friends at your Friendsgiving, you’re a tad on the ornery side.”

Chance sighed. He was being ornery, but he’d spent the entire day looking for her. And now, here she was. Gorgeous, with the most unusual eyes… blue, gray, and green all at once. Long, luscious, wavy blonde hair that hung almost to her waist, even though she had it caught up in a hair tie.

His hand itched to yank the tie out of her hair to free it to hang down. If she were his Little girl, he’d make her wear it that way all the time. Shit. The last thing he needed to think about right now was her being his.

He didn’t even know if she was a Little. And what if she were? She lived like a damn gypsy, traveling around, probably conning people out of their money, breaking in and stealing his food.

Overreacting just a bit, aren’t we?

“No. I have never gotten caught up in a pyramid — never mind. What’s in this generous gesture for you?”

Great. Now he felt like an ass.

Probably because you’re acting like one.

Her eyes brightened with unshed tears. “I wasn’t getting anything. Sometimes it’s nice to be nice just because. People like getting their pictures taken. And then they have a memento to remember the day. And, okay, some of them paid me for the pictures, but?—”

Chance couldn’t hold back. “That’s what I figured.”

She held up her hand. “But! I sent the ones they liked to a lab that will process them, and they’ll be able to pick them up tomorrow at the photo counter at the drug store in Wilder.

Since I had them anyway, I was going to give you a set to use for promotions.

That’s all. Everyone is happy. Well, everyone except you. ”

That checked with what Tildi had told him earlier.

Still, he’d lost a lot of time recently with everything going on.

The ranch was in desperate need of maintenance that needed to be done while it was cold.

They had to check the fences and put windbreaks and sheds up in the pastures to protect the herds from the wind.

Not to mention, make sure they had hay to eat.

This girl wasn’t his responsibility. He had to put his family first, right? The local community church ran a perfectly good shelter for people just like her. It wasn’t like she’d have to sleep in her car and starve.

Right. Just look at her. She’s nothing but trouble waiting to happen.

If she’d chosen the life of a gypsy, she was probably used to it. And if she was new to it, maybe having to stay in the shelter would make her choose to go back home. He had no reason to feel guilty.

So why did he still feel like a complete ass for what he was about to do? There was something about her that called to him. But he was responsible for keeping his family and those living on the ranch safe. Sometimes it wasn’t a fun job, but it was what he had to do.

Before he could tell her that, she asked, “I was hoping, with a lodge this size, you might have a room. Do you have a place where I can stay? Just for a night or two?”

Damn, he hated to have to disappoint her. Why did she have to look so vulnerable and lost?

Because she is, that’s why.

Still, it didn’t change what he had to do.

It wouldn’t make looking in the mirror any easier either.

“Look, I’m sorry I accused you of trying to con people.

I’m sure you’re a fantastic photographer.

But you can’t stay here. We aren’t ready for guests.

But the Wilder Community Church runs a shelter that’s always open to whoever needs a place to stay.

I can drive, and you can follow me, if that would help. ”

He lost those incredible eyes then. She stared at her feet. When she spoke, her voice was thick with tears. Damn it.

“No, that’s okay. I just thought I’d ask. I can get directions in town. I, um, thank you for not calling the sheriff. I won’t bother you again. And you should give Bullwinkle an extra apple or something for not stabbing me with his horns.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to make her feel better. It killed the Daddy in him to watch her head to the kitchen door leading outside. “Wait,” he called. “Wait right there.”

He walked to the coat closet and took out one of Kenzie’s winter coats. He might not be able to let her stay on the ranch, but that didn’t mean he’d let her freeze. The last time he’d checked, it was fifteen degrees outside.

“Here, put this on,” he said, holding the thick coat open so she could slide into it. She was about the same size as Kenzie, so the coat fit well. Holding out his hand, he said, “Hand me your phone.”

She stiffened. “Wh-why?” Suspicion darkened her eyes as her hands went behind her back.

Her reaction had the Daddy in him rising to the forefront. “I wanted to put in my phone number so you’ll have someone to call if there’s a problem. Is there a reason you don’t want to hand it to me?”

“No!” she all but yelled. “I mean, I don’t have a phone.” Her eyes skirted to the side.

For the first time since he’d met her, she lied to him. It was obvious she wasn’t used to lying. She was terrible at it. “Where are you from—” It suddenly occurred to him he didn’t know her name. “What’s your name, gypsy?”

“What?”

“Your name? And do not lie to me. You don’t know me, so I’ll let the whopper you just told me slide. But don’t lie to me again. Do you understand?”

“Um… sorry. I’m Joy.”

“Joy is a pretty name. What’s your last name?”

“Nothing. Just Joy.”

“You don’t have a last name?”

“Not that I have to tell you. You might be the boss of this ranch, but you aren’t the boss of me.”

She was right. But suddenly, Chance very much wanted to be.

“Fair enough, gypsy. I don’t guess you’ll tell me where you’re from, either.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

“Well then, take this.” Grabbing a notepad from the kitchen counter, he scribbled his phone number and handed her the paper. “This is my number. If you need anything or there’s any trouble, I want you to call me.”

A sorrow filled her eyes he didn’t understand. But he knew one thing. Gypsy would never use that number, no matter how desperate she got. “Thank you. I guess I'd better go.”

He walked her to her car and almost changed his mind when she stopped at the oldest Honda Civic he’d ever seen.

It was damn near older than him. If it had been snowing, he’d have made her stay the night.

But the night was clear, and the moon was full.

And if he let her stay, he wasn’t sure he’d ever let her leave again.

Joy left, and he watched her drive away until she disappeared over the horizon.

Chance stared at the ceiling all night and worried.