Page 72 of Risking it for the Cowboy

“And for God’s sake, sit down. I ain’t firing you.”

T.R. eased into the chair beside the desk, knee bouncing to get to the police station, and pulled out his phone to check the time while Tyler scanned some information. “Calvin Mitchell. Civil proceedings. Family court. I’ve been before him thirteen times, looks like.”

He turned the computer screen toward T.R., and T.R. fished his glasses out of his shirt pocket when … his fingers met with a wad of cash.

He shook his head wryly. The money. She’d given it back. No wonder her smirk, thinking she’d pulled one over on him. What had started out as Charlie not wanting to be beholden to a man was quickly turning into a game of cat and mouse. Cute she thought she’d get away with it. Yet, his heart knotted tight. To be cared about so hard was a weird thing…

“What about weekend bail hearings?” T.R. asked. “Mitchell do those?”

Tyler snorted. “A man of his prestige? Naw.”

“He did one today.”

Tyler paused, thinking. “It’s all public record. You just gotta go down to the courthouse and ask to see the dockets. See if he’s done this before. Your girl have a lawyer?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t sound like he’s all that good at what he does. She don’t trust easy. We’re barely a thing, so I don’t want to press her too much yet. Barely got her to take a chance on me.”

Tyler frowned. “If you like her, you oughta make it your business.”

Yeah, his gut wasn’t wrong. He looked at his phone again.

Ty’s eyes dipped to T.R.’s phone this time, then back up to him. “What else, Thaddeus? Boxing gloves?” Ty arched a brow. “Man, you wear your BS on your sleeve for everyone to see. May as well explain why.”

Talk is what he meant. “Charlie’s supposed to go to the precinct at two thirty to request an emergency restraining order until her lawyer can get in front of a judge. I told her I’d come get Daisy.”

Realization dawned and his cousin’s posture relaxed. “You ain’t meeting me today is what you’re saying. Your sister’s thing really worked a number on you, didn’t it?”

T.R. ripped loose his Stetson and raked his hand through his hair. Shoved back to his feet and paced across the creaking floorboards. He’d never get the image of sweet Charity out of his mind for the rest of his life. Or the feeling of that bone crunching in her now-ex’s jaw when he’d sunk his knuckles into it.

“Go get the girl,” Ty said, nodding. “I’m going out west to get Heart back but give Charlie this.”

Already halfway to the door, T.R. glanced back to see Tyler flipping open his wallet to pull something out.

He flicked one of his business cards into T.R.’s hand. “And one more thing, if you want to know more about Judge Mitchell’s rulings,” Tyler continued. “Seeing the dockets usually takes an appointment so they can pull the relevant files, which can take weeks sometimes to schedule. Ask for Cindy in records. Tell her Tyler Dixon sent you, and she’ll hook you up quick.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Charlie drove onto Dixon McClintock Farms, the messy business of filing a restraining order behind her, and eyed the banjo beside her. Excitement brimmed. Relief relaxed her, the officer assuring her he’d serve the restraining order immediately, and she slowed, rolling by the shops, scanning the faces of the farmhands, and eventually rolled down her window when she didn’t see Thaddeus’s truck.

“I’m looking for T.R.?” she called.

He shook his head. “Ain’t seen him since this afternoon!”

She glanced at the time. There was no way they were still getting ice cream. It was nearly six.

She pulled up to the farmhouse and got out, leaving her Rover idling, and knocked on the door. No one answered. She knocked again. Moved to a window and glanced inside. All seemed still. Lights killed except for sunlight streaming through windows.

She returned to the door, hesitated, then tested the knob. Locked.

She knocked harder. “Daisy? Thad?”

Her pulse quickened.

She took a calming breath, walking down the porch to peer in another window. Of course there was a logical explanation. She shouldn’t jump to conclusions. This wasn’t like the time that Jason had taken Daisy, and not shown up to drop her off, or when Jason hadn’t answered his phone for hours, having been passed out at a friend’s place hungover while Daisy ate stale potato chips, hungry…

She tempered herself with a deep breath, quelling the irrational fears that Jason had bred into every fiber of her every thought. Trouble wasn’t like Jason. He was cocky, but he was a good guy, working hard, and helping her out.

She strode over to the workshops, peering inside a rolling door that was dragged wide. A couple farm hands were working inside and looked up amid the rumbling air compressor.