Page 81 of The Cowboy's Bullfighter
He sifted through all of that and came up with a list inorder of importance. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the doctor?”
“No. I’ll be fine, although I have decided that fucker and me, we’re not friends.” Coop growled low. “I’m serious, man. I am deadly serious.”
“Okay. Okay, Coop. I’ll arrange for a flight today. I’ll talk to Pete, and then I’ll head for the airport.” He wanted to go home so bad.
“Good. I need you. I can’t do this shit, and now there’s a baby, and Benji—fuck.”
“Jesus. Has she taken a test, or do they just think so?” Brooks needed all the details. Just to be prepared. He rose, heading into the bunkhouse to pack his bag.
“I didn’t ask. I was trying not to scream. She was crying and Ricky was stressing. Her folks threw her out. She’s here now.” Coop was going to hyperventilate. He knew it. “Youhaveto come home.”
“I’m serious, Coop. I’m packing now.” He threw clothes into his suitcase. I’ll go to Pete once we’re off the phone and get my check, and I’ll be home in a day and a half.”
“Good. Good, I can’t—I’m overwhelmed, and I feel like shit.”
“Do you need to call Kase? He can help. He can get you the doc if you need him.” God, he hoped Coop wasn’t hurt bad or sick. “I’m sorry, babe. He’s been stringing me along.”
“Tell him—you know what? I give no shits right now. Tell him I’m going to start putting heads on pikes or?—”
“Uncle Coop! Uncle Coop! I had a nightmare!” Mina’s scream split the air.
“I have to go. Send your itinerary.” The phone went dead.
Shit. What the heck was going on with Mina? She sounded absolutely hysterical.
He got his Dopp kit out of the bathroom, then checked his area to make sure he hadn’t left anything. He grabbed hisgood boots and competition hat, which shared a custom carrier, and headed up to the main house by way of a golf cart that they kept at the bunks just for that.
His heart was racing, and he couldn’t breathe from the adrenaline coursing through him. Coop was—the man was invincible. So if he was freaking out, shit had to be bad, and Brooks needed to be there.
“Is he in his office, Mags?” he asked Pete’s assistant as he barged into the house.
“He is, but I don’t think he’s taking?—”
Brooks didn’t care. Brooks needed his money, his sperm, and to go home.
He waved at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll announce myself.” He barged to Pete’s office, reminding himself that he was a damned cowboy. He was not going to sink back into the ooze and wait for Pete to grow honesty.
He strode to Pete’s desk and slapped his hands down. “I need my check and my straws.”
“What? I told you, I just need?—”
“No, sir. Write my goddamn check.”
“Now, Brooks.”
He slapped the desk again, the sound like a shot. “You have been dicking me around for an extra week and a half. I want my check, and you can courier my straws to my ranch. I’ve already dealt with all the import details and certificates and the vet certifications.”
“I need a few more?—”
“No.” He stared Pete down. “My partner is hurt bad. My kids are in crisis, and I’mleaving!”
Pete’s wife, Wilma, walked in. “What on earth is going on with the kids? Pete, what are you doing?”
“Now, woman?—”
“Don’t you ‘woman’ me! Brooks?”
He sighed. “He’s holding off ona decision on the new breeding and show manager to keep me here. And Coop has one kid wetting the bed and having nightmares, one getting into fights, and one who got his girl pregnant.”
