Bucking the Rules(8)

Trace laid on his back on the carpet of the upstairs family room, his son crawling on the floor beside him. Though the living room downstairs was more spacious, it was a little too perfect for any of the Muldoon siblings. Sylvia, their mother, had taken it into her mind to turn the big house from comfortably lived in to a show palace. Something about looking rich if you wanted to be rich. Not that it worked.

Trace thought it was just another excuse to do whatever she wanted with the family money. And as usual, their father had gone right along with it. The man was brilliant in so many ways, but a businessman and a husband with a backbone—those were two things he’d never managed in his lifetime.

Peyton walked over and flopped down on the couch. “So. Are you going to tell me who his mother is?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. I’ll just ask again next week.”

“I know.”

Seth’s mom. A weekly conversation topic. Trace had known when he’d showed up at the ranch with a three-month-old baby and no woman in tow, he’d get questioned. He hadn’t realized, months and months later, Peyton would still be picking at it. But he should have. Peyton was a bulldog with a bone when she wanted something. But she wasn’t heartless. She’d use manipulation to get it out of him if she could.

But it wouldn’t work. Who his son’s mother was didn’t matter. She wasn’t in his life, wouldn’t be in his life, and that’s what was important. Besides, the odds were the story would bore her to tears anyway.

“Come here, little man.” She rolled and reached over with one arm, scooping him up just before he started to pull himself up on the coffee table to cruise. Plopping him on her stomach, she grinned and started messing with his still-bald head. “When are you gonna grow some hair? Is there some sort of baby Rogaine we can give the kid?”

“Doubt it. Plus, being bald is cool. How many athletes shave their heads these days?”

“Hmm.” She rubbed his back through the footie pajama top for a moment. “I’m thinking this guy and I need to start a new tradition.”

“What’s that?”

“Movie night.”

“Movie night?” Trace lifted his head a little from the floor. “He’s not even one. He can’t focus on anything for more than two minutes. Plus, all the books say introducing screen time early can ruin babies’ eyesight and lower their attention span, plus the added consequences of—”

“Were you this boring when we were kids, or is this a recent development?” Peyton asked mildly.

“I’d say it’s about nine months old. Movie night, Peyton?” He snorted. “What kind of bullsh—crap is that all about?”

“Earmuffs, Daddy.” She grinned and covered Seth’s ears with her palms for a moment until he started shaking his head in annoyance. “Okay, okay. So maybe I’m leading into this badly. I have a favor to ask… .”

“No. I absolutely will not help Bea move out. She wants the apartment? She can do it herself.”

“Agreed there, though for different reasons. Mostly, I just want to see her actually break a sweat.” Peyton snickered at the thought.

“Like she’d do it herself. She’ll just get a few of the hands to come up here after work and do it for her.”

She thought about that a moment. “Damn. You’re right.”

“Earmuffs, Auntie Peyton.”

She shot him the finger. “Fine. I want you to go out with Red.”

Of all the favors he’d been imagining, that was the last he’d expected. “Go out where? Out of town? I don’t have anything this weekend on my schedule.” Did he miss something? He glanced at Seth. Already he regretted missing another weekend of his son’s life.

“No, no. Not out of town.” Peyton stood, shifting and supporting Seth carefully as she maneuvered. With the child on her hip, she started walking slowly back and forth around the room. The swaying motion of her hips lulled Seth enough that he let his head drop to her shoulder. Thank God. “Red’s got it in his mind to head for a night out on the town. I think he needs some company, but you know how he is. He’s not going to ask one of the guys here. Something about muddying up the trainer–work hand relationship. Balance of power and yadda-yadda.”

“I think you two yadda-yadda’ed the balance of power last year when the trainer and owner started boinking.”

Peyton rolled her eyes. “I’m choosing to ignore that.”

“Choose away,” he permitted.

“The fact is, he’s itching to get out. I know he likes staying here in the big house, since he’s with me. In my bed,” she added with a smirk.