Page 77 of Making a Cowgirl

“Howard.”

“What? Did youseethe way her face lit up just now? It’s what she wants. Let her do it.” Her father winked at her, and chills washed over her. This was really happening. And she had her parents' blessing.

There was only one thing that could make this better, and seeing as she was more likely to see a pig fly than that, she’d have to settle with this.

30

Dax

Dax lifted his phone to his ear as he stared at what could only be described as a mansion. The house could probably fit two or three of the Callahan’s house inside it, and that was saying something considering Zeke raised seven girls.

“Are you sure you gave me the right address?”

“I’m positive.” Brielle sighed. “That’s the address she gave me when I told her I wanted to come visit. Why? Is something wrong?”

“It’s just—huge.”

“What don’t you get about the fact that her parents are billionaires? Come on, Dax. It isn’t brain surgery.”

He peered through the gate of the house, suddenly very intimidated. This was the kind of home he had stood outside of as a teen and wished he could be part of. On several occasions, he’d been tempted to egg houses like these or break in and steal whatever he could get his hands on.

He’d come a long way since then.

His chest tightened. Neither he nor Brielle had told Sarah that he was coming to visit her. Brielle said Sarah sounded sad the last time they spoke. If she wasn’t in a good headspace, then maybe she wouldn’t even want to see him.

“Hello? Are you still there? Look, I’m busy tonight, so I’m going to have to hang up. If you run into any problems—”

“Call anyone but you, I know.”

“Bingo.” Brielle hung up the phone without so much as a goodbye, leaving Dax in the quiet of his truck at the front gate of the property.

He leaned out his window and pressed the button on the intercom. A sharp buzzing sound filled the air and then the intercom crackled.

“Name.”

“Um. You want my name?”

“Name,” the faceless voice repeated.

“Dax. Dax Heaton.”

“Is someone at this residence expecting you?”

He scratched his chin and stared at the house again. “Not exactly, no.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t let you in.”

Dax spun in his seat and placed his hand on the open window of his truck. “You have to let me in. I have to speak with Sarah. She’s—we’re—please. I just have to see her.”

“Miss Newton is unavailable.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it.” His voice seethed with desperate frustration. “She’ll want to see me. Just tell her that Dax is here. You’ll see.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Call and make an appointment.” The disembodied voice crackled and disappeared.

Dax pressed the button again and again, but they didn’t respond. He let out a groan and stared at the house. He didn’t drive several days to turn around and go back home. He wasn’t going to leave until he could speak to her and find out exactly what happened.

He pulled out of their driveway and down the street a little way until his focus landed on a tree that grew just outside the property fence. He might be able to climb it and land on the other side. Then she’d have to speak to him.

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