Winning the Cowboy Billionaire - Emmy Eugene Page 0,73

and Featherweight seemed to understand English. He barely had to point her in the right direction; he just told her where he wanted to go, and she got him there.

He spent a long time brushing her down and cleaning her tack. Once she was back in her stall with a few extra treats in the form of apples and carrots and oats, Blaine started for the homestead. The ranch was massive, spanning hundreds of acres, and they had row houses, walking circles, a full-size track, administration buildings, selling courts and stadiums, arenas, and parking lots for when the buyers came.

There was always someone around, doing something, but Sunday was their slowest day of the week.

Blaine took a long, deep breath, and held it before pushing it from his lungs. Conrad was the best cook out of all the brothers, but Blaine put Sunday evening meals together more than anyone else. Momma usually fed everyone for lunch after church, but she hadn’t today, because she and Daddy had gone to see her mother.

Gramma was getting way up there in years, and she lived in an assisted facility in Dreamsville now. Most of the Chappells lived on the ranch until the day they died, and one of Blaine’s favorite places was the cemetery.

They buried people on the east half and animals on the west, and some of his favorite childhood pets had been laid to rest on the patch of land in the far eastern corner of the ranch.

His phone rang as he went past the homestead, his goal the front shed. He had barbells there he liked to work with in the mornings and evenings, and he wanted to check his schedule for the week.

Tam’s name sat on his screen, and his feet froze while his heart flopped. He’d texted her quite a bit the past few days, but he hadn’t seen her, and he hadn’t spoken to her. He quickly swiped on the call when he realized it had rung three or four times already and lifted the phone to his ear.

Tam was swearing, her voice loud, though he could distinctly hear a hissing sound in the background.

“Tam?” he asked.

“Blaine,” she barked. “Some idiot ran a stop sign and hit me. Can you come get me?”

His pulse sprinted now, and he jogged toward the homestead. “Yep. Where are you?”

A man said something Blaine couldn’t catch, and Tam yelled, “Yes, I called you an idiot. Stop means stop!”

“Tam,” Blaine said. “Focus, Tam. Don’t engage with him.” He could be anyone, and Blaine’s worry for his best friend doubled. Inside, he swiped his keys from the hooks inside the mudroom and retraced his steps.

Tam didn’t hear him or didn’t care what he had to say, because she said something else to the guy who’d hit her.

“You’re obviously okay,” Blaine said. “At least your mouth.”

“I called nine-one-one,” she said. “My back hurts.”

“Are you sitting down?” Blaine asked, jogging to his truck now. Five of them sat in front of the homestead, as five of the Chappell brothers lived there. The other three lived in a second house further west, and their parents lived on the road that ran along the front of the ranch.

“Yes,” Tam said. “I’m fine, Blaine. I’m not going in the ambulance.”

“But an ambulance is on the way, right?”

“They’re here already,” she said. “The police too.”

“Then why are you yelling at that guy?”

“He’s a police officer, so his buddies are just letting him go wherever he wants.”

“Okay, Tamara,” Blaine said, employing the use of her full name as he got behind the wheel and started his truck. “Do not yell at a police officer.” Especially some of the obscenities she’d been using. “Please.”

“I don’t feel good, Blaine,” she said, and her voice was half the volume and twice the pitch it had just been.

“I’ll be right there.” He went down the lane that led to the highway at twice the normal clip. “You never told me where you are.”

“The stop sign just down from my shop. I got new leather delivered yesterday.”

“Which way from your shop, Tam?” he asked, turning left onto the highway. Her shop was near downtown, so he knew he needed to go that way.

“Uh…I don’t know,” she said.

“Tam,” he said. “What’s your middle name?”

“Um, Presley?”

Why was she guessing. “Where are the paramedics?” he asked. “You need to get them. You don’t sound good, Tam.”

“I don’t feel good,” she said, her voice ghosting into a whisper by the last word.

“Tam,” he said, raising his voice. “Tam, which