But a kid? What did she look like, June Cleaver? She didn’t do kids. She really didn’t even do relationships, but she got talked into that one. Hearth and home, for her, weren’t on the table. She wasn’t stepmother material. She wasn’t even sure she was good girlfriend material, but at least if she fucked that up, Trace was adult enough to get out of the way before the shit hit the fan.
God. What the hell was she supposed to do?
Trace ran Lad through another obstacle course, cutting corners a little closer than he normally would. When a client was in the building, it wasn’t a bad idea to show off just a little. But rather than riding herd on the horse, he was more concerned about keeping check on his own emotions.
Ruthlessly, coldly, he blocked Jo from his mind. Blocked it all out until it was him and the horse. Lad and Trace moving together. Anticipating the horse’s movement, ticks, every breath so they were one fluid creature rather than rider and mount.
He’d already run through the same course with two younger horses, still in training. So seeing it done with his own horse, seeing what the Muldoon training could accomplish with raw talent, was usually an eye-opener for the customer.
And when he finally rode Lad over to Steve, waiting to take the horse to cool off, he saw the look of appreciation in the client’s eyes.
“Fine mount, gentlemen.” Flint rubbed his jaw and watched as Lad walked away, his eyes tracking the horse’s legs. “Nice show.”
Trace watched as Red all but stepped into his new persona, in full showmanship mode now. This was never Red’s favorite part. But it was part of the package.
Red slapped a hand on Flint’s shoulder. “Not just a show. Our horses know what they’re doing, because we know what they need. It’s an equal partnership… .” Red winked and Trace almost choked on his laughter. “As long as the horses remember who holds the sugar cubes.”
Flint laughed in big guffaws. “Isn’t that the truth?” He rubbed at his jaw again. “I’m not entirely sure. I was over at Three Trees the other day. Tanner said he let you go a year ago.”
Red’s eyes twitched, just a little, but his smile was easy and smooth. “Well, that’s a matter of opinion, I suppose. My work there was done, and I moved on. But here at the Muldoon spread, we—”
“He warned me about this place. Said y’all were going bankrupt. That it would be foolish to even step foot over here.”
Trace’s hands balled into fists. That’s how the competition was going at it? Throwing mud?
“Something about unethical practices,” he went on. “I didn’t stick around for the details, of course. Not one for gossip myself.” Flint’s eyes told a different story.
“Flint, you know me, don’t you?” Red began easily.
He nodded. Everyone did. Red’s name was synonymous with superior horse training.
“I think I’d like to let my reputation speak for itself. I’ve always held myself to the highest standards, and I expect the same of those I work with. I’ve stayed here for as long as I have because I believe this place to be the pinnacle of ethics. And between you and me, it’s an up-and-comer for stock. You start business with M-Star now? Men will be calling you brilliant in a year. You’ll be ahead of the game.”
Flint nodded again, but took a small step back. It was a gesture most might overlook, but Trace saw it for what it was. Separation, a step in the direction he intended to continue. Despite their quality stock and unmatchable trainer, rumors and hearsay would take them down.
“Gentlemen, you’ve given me some things to think about. I—”
“Yoohoo!”
Three heads swiveled in unison, and all took in the sight walking toward them.
Trace groaned.
Red closed his eyes in a this is not happening sort of gesture.
But Flint? His tongue all but rolled out of his mouth and dragged on the floor like a cartoon hound at the sight of Bea toddling toward them. One arm was out for balance, the other holding that stupid dog against her shoulder like a baby. And damn if she wasn’t wearing an imitation Daisy Duke outfit, right down to the skimpy, ripped up cut-off denim shorts and cowboy boots, with a shirt—was that his shirt?—tied up around her navel.
The dog, poor thing, was sporting a red bandana and looking miserable about it.
Damn it. Just what they needed. Red had spent the past five minutes assuring Flint they were a serious business, one to contend with. And now Bea was going to undo it with one shake of her on-display ass.
Bea finally made her way down the dirt path and held out a hand to Flint, who grasped it without hesitation. “I heard in the big house there was a new cowboy to come and see. I couldn’t resist.”