“Jesus, TMI, Peyton. You two can’t let a guy pretend to not know, can you?” Trace rolled over and buried his face in the carpet, arms covering his ears.
“I’m sorry. I forgot what a boring prude you are these days. Didn’t you know Red and I host midnight Scrabble matches every evening? I’m currently ahead in the ranking, thanks to his horrible spelling.”
“Better. Continue.”
“But I think he needs a little separation. We work together, we’re shacking up—I mean, playing Scrabble—together.” She used air quotes around Seth’s head for that little tidbit. “He eats all his meals here or in the barn, where he’s likely to run into me during the day. And we travel together more times than not. He needs a breather. I can see it.”
Trace watched as Peyton took another lap with his son on her hip. He focused on her eyes, then her hands. They were the two places he knew she showed stress the most. Even as a child, she’d managed to face their bitch of a mother stone-faced. But her hands would clench into fists or widen into stiff boards, and her eyes would shoot daggers when Sylvia’s back was turned.
He didn’t see anything like that now.
“Does that bother you?”
“Bother me?” She turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in confusion. “How so?”
“That he needs space from you. I mean, you love the guy. Does it bug you that he needs to get away?”
“Hell, no.” She winced and stroked Seth’s head. “Sorry. That’s still hard to curb.”
“I’m calling ‘hell’ a free pass. It’s a location as much as a curse, so it’s a freebie.”
“Good. But no, it doesn’t bother me. I love him, he loves me. I don’t think he’s going to run out and find the first available woman to lie on her back and roll in the hay. He needs some space. It’s natural. And frankly, if he is getting space, so am I.” She grinned at him. “Between you and me, I wouldn’t mind a night off from the girlfriend routine either. I get to do whatever I want while he’s gone for the evening, like play with my favorite nephew. And tomorrow, back to being the sexy gir—uh, great speller.” She jiggled Seth a little and he smiled back at her. “So. Help a gal out?”
Trace searched his mind for plot holes. “I don’t want you to babysit.”
“You didn’t hear me, did you? This is movie night for us. Not babysitting. We’re bonding. Now, go change into something a little less icky, and let my man take you out for a drink.”
“That sounded so wrong.”
“Go be wrong elsewhere. I’ve got a DVD to watch.”
“It better be PG.”
Red opened the door and motioned for Trace to step through first.
“Jesus. First Peyton tells me to let you take me out for a drink. Now you’re opening the door for me like I’m a chick.”
“And you look extra purdy in your finest shirt, darlin’.” Red grinned when Trace elbowed him in the stomach. “Relax. It’s just a guys’ night out. No harm.”
“Last guys’ night we had, someone ended up trying to break into the big house.” He regretted the words immediately when Red winced. Since the guy breaking in had been in cahoots with Red’s father, he wasn’t a fan of the memory. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, let’s not repeat that, shall we?” Red headed to a table near the pool tables and positioned himself to watch a poker game on one of the TV screens.
Trace sat down and debated asking. But then he decided, if the guy was going to deck him, he’d at least wait until they got back to M-Star to do it. Red was classy like that. “Are you getting ready to break up with my sister? Or maybe quit the ranch?”
Red set the drink menu back down on the table slowly and looked over at him. “What?”
“Because if you are, you know it’s going to kill her.” Shouldn’t have said that part. “I mean, you know, because of all the crap she had to deal with to get over dating her trainer. You know, mentally …” Shit. Hole was halfway to China now, might as well keep shoveling. “I’m just saying—”
Red held up a hand. “Don’t ‘just say.’ I appreciate the big brother routine, which is why I’m not telling you we’re going to draw blood in the parking lot. But Jesus, dude, you know I’m crazy about her. Why would you think that?”
Trace shrugged. “Forget it.”
“Hard to, when you toss a conversation starter like that at a guy.” Red smiled as the waitress, a cute redhead, strolled up. “Bud, bottle.”