Page 23 of Relentless

Maeve sat back in her seat. “Thank goodness.”

Dallas’ mouth gaped open, finally understanding her strategy. “Maeve Callaway Wilder, I cannot believe you.”

“Just taking care of business, Dal,” she responded with a conspiratorial smile.

Despite their doubts, the Melody Fields team continued bolstering their boss’s ego. Their victory lap was noticeably cut short when the auctioneer announced Peaches, and the sturdy heifer was brought into the arena.

“Here we go,” Maeve confirmed. She started the bidding high, immediately knocking out the smaller ranches.

Tucker’s confidence evaporated. His face flushed red as he feebly waved his placard.

Maeve calmly bid again, taking an easy lead. Running her fingers down her chin, she scanned her competition around the room. Hearing Tucker swear and snap the stick of his placard in half, she pursed her lips together, attempting to conceal her satisfaction.

The auctioneer cracked his gavel. “Sold! Callaway Ranch.”

Tucker glared down the line at his team as though his mistake had been their fault all along.

Maeve gave Dallas a peck on the lips, ignoring the daggers from Melody Fields. Burning through Tucker’s auction funds felt almost as rewarding as winning the highly coveted heifer — and at a fraction of the price she was worth.

“See,” Maeve affirmed, pulling her phone from the tight pocket of her jeans. “I told you not to pay them any mind.”

Maeve — texting…

We got Peaches. Get Colton and Wade on the road.

Dallas proudly took her by the hand while they finalized their purchase and coordinated the pickup of their newest Callaway stock.

“We’ve got a honeymoon to get back to,” Maeve whispered to Dallas, feeling relieved that the day of ranch business had finally come to an end. Crossing the dusty parking lot, she clutched his firm bicep.

Tucker stood by his truck and trailer, barking orders at his crew while they loaded up the feeble livestock. He spun around to face them. “You gotsomesense of humor, Maeve Callaway,“ he fumed, his lip curling in disgust. “We’ll see who comes out on top at competition.”

“It’s for charity, Tucker,” Maeve clarified, slipping on her aviator sunglasses.

“Two weeks, Maeve,” Tucker seethed, “We’ll be seeing you.”

Maeve glanced over the top of her frames. “I’m sure you will, boys.”

Chapter 8

Pinched

Harper’s eyes finally cracked open in the late morning hours with the hospital band still tightly secured around her wrist. She pulled her index finger under the tight plastic, yanking the stubborn band with no success. Feeling the headache again clawing at the back of her eyes, her attention drifted to the prescription medication on the nightstand beside her phone.

Nabbing her device, she attempted to focus her still blurry vision. She tapped her fingers impatiently, thumbing her screen up and down, just knowing word of her accident had spread quickly.

Much to her dismay, there was nothing from her best friend — and not a word from Paisley.

There was, however, one unopened message that caught her eye. It was from the number that she had labeled as:

Do Not Answer —

Harp, are you okay?

Her exasperation overflowed into an audible groan. Without a doubt, Harper knew that Maeve was too nosey to let anything past her, and she was not about to be some charity case that fueled what she considered her younger sister’s already hyper-inflated ego.

In an attempt to distract herself, she mindlessly scrolled through her social media feed. There in the top trending spot was Oakleigh’s name, per usual.

What now?

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