Page 73 of Risking it for the Cowboy

“Have you seen T.R.?”

They shook their heads. “Was out in the pasture stocking troughs earlier today, but ain’t seen him since he stabled Beau.” And that had been at lunchtime, right after Daisy’s summer program had dismissed, and she’d arrived out here with Heart’s records.

Her pulse quickened again, and this time, despite her efforts to calm it, a twist kept tightening in her belly. She dragged out her phone from her bib pocket, willing herself to remain calm as sweat beaded her brow, and texted T.R. as she stared off the front porch into the pastures.

Charlie: “Where are you?”

No reply came. Nerves gathered in her hands, as she strode around the porch, jogged around the house and off the back steps. No one on the back lawn. No one playing soccer in the empty goal that Seth practiced on.

Charlie: “Not kidding. Where are you two?”

You’re doing the right thing, T.R. had assured her when he’d met them at the station. She took another deep breath. There had to be a logical explanation.

She hurried across a gravel drive, across a work yard, to a cattle chute and rotolactor barn. No Thaddeus.

But he said they’d visit the horses…

Thank God! Her rational side finally kicked in, and she took another calming breath. She walked through the dust toward the stables, hearing a man talking, hard to distinguish amid all the farm noise.

She smiled. She’d been foolish to imagine scenarios that Jason would have done, even if she couldn’t help it.

“Hey, you two…”

A tall, dark-haired man looked up as her words trailed off. Chiseled jaw, tall, stacked, lean, Stetson low over his eyes. The spitting image of Tyler Dixon with dark brown eyes to boot if not a touch taller, but he wasn’t Tyler.

He touched the brim of his hat at her and unhooked his horse’s halter from the crossties, leading it into a stall, his gait an uneven shuffle, when another man in the hayloft, who looked eerily similar to T.R. if not for his cropped hair and different nose, lowered a bale to the floor from a pully.

“Howdy.” He flashed a charming grin and jutted out his chin.

Oh man, and he had the same playful attitude, too. “I’m looking for Thaddeus?”

The charmer from the hayloft shook his head with an amused smirk. “Thaddeus, eh … Ain’t seen him since midday.”

No one had seen him since midday?

“But I’d say our cousin’s a lucky bastard if a beauty like you is lookin’ for him.”

The dark-haired man harrumphed at the remark inside a box stall where he was settling his horse.

“Cousin?”

At this, the dark-haired man came out of the stall. He held out a hand to her, tattoo of a soldier on his forearm, and shook hers firmly. “Travis Dixon. Up there’s Toby, mine and Tyler’s brother,” came his deep, soft-spoken voice. “T.R. and Toby are the asshole littles,” he deadpanned, and yet, an undercurrent of affection warmed the insult.

“My brother from another mother,” the blond added, his grin so much like Thaddeus’s.

“He’s watching my daughter.”

The men’s brows shot up. They flashed an unreadable look at each other. “I’ll be damned…” Toby murmured, shaking his head as if he’d just had a revelation. “You’re his Flower Girl?”

God, her blush. What was she, a schoolgirl being told she was pretty for the first time?

She nodded. “I’ve tried texting him, but he isn’t answering.”

The blond in the hayloft nodded. “Give him a call. He hates texting.”

Dyslexic.

“Yeah, I forgot. He mixed up a couple numbers when he gave me his cell,” she muttered.