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"What?"

"Not fists or anything but close. Mason kept running his mouth, Troy told him to back off, and it got ugly enough that I left."

My stomach tightens. "And that was it?"

"Nope." She smirks. "Mason followed me to my hotel."

"For real?"

"Yep. He claims he wanted to talk." She puts fingers in quotes. "I told him there was nothing to talk about and went inside. He followed me into the elevator, and to my room. I got in and slammed the door in his face.

I put my hand over my mouth. "Damn."

Her chin lifts. "He started pounding on my door, demanding I let him explain whatever the hell he thought needed explaining. I didn't open it. Eventually hotel security showed up and made him leave."

I gape at her.

"It would have been better if they threw his ass in jail," she comments.

I squeeze her hand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. And I meant what I said back there." She glances toward the barn where Mason disappeared. "I'm done with him."

"And you're good?" I cautiously ask.

"Yep! Well, hopefully he gets the memo soon," she says, then looks around. "Hey, where's Charlie? I need some cuddles."

My heart races faster. "At my daddy's ranch with Jagger."

Her eyebrows shoot up. She shrieks, "What?"

I put my hands in the air.

Her eyes somehow get even wider. "Jagger went to meet Dean Cooper by himself?"

"With Charlie."

"Holy shit. Is he still alive?"

"I assume so. Mama said he told her to tell me that he'll meet us at the racetrack."

She grabs my arm. "You have about a thousand things to tell me. But we need to leave, or we'll be in line to get into the parking lot forever."

I nod. "I know. I'll fill you in on the way." I grab my purse, and we step outside and get into Carla's truck.

I grab my seat belt and buckle in while Carla pulls away from the ranch. The entire drive, I give her the condensed version of everything that's happened with Jagger, only stopping long enough to check my phone every few minutes. He still hasn't texted, and the closer we get to the track, the harder it is to concentrate on Carla's questions.

I trust him with Charlie, but I'm dying to know how she's doing and what happened with Daddy. Plus, I haven't ever had my baby this far from me. I'm more than ready to get my hands on her.

By the time we get to the track, I've checked my phone fourteen times. The November air bites through my coat as Carla and I make our way toward the Cartwright stalls.

People are everywhere. Trainers. Owners. Jockeys. Grooms leading horses between barns. The loudspeaker crackles overhead while the smell of hay, dirt, leather, and horses fills the cold air.

I look for Jagger's truck, but don't see it.

"You're pacing," Carla points out.

"I'm walking."