Taking the Reins(11)
“Ten Fork. Good place. Big operation.” She looked at him. “Gonna take it?”
“Haven’t decided yet.” And she’d saved him from making the decision based on a nursery rhyme. But no need to share that part. Her seeing him in his boxers was humiliation enough for the day.
She placed the file back down with precise care. “These all the offers you have?”
“All the ones still being considered.”
“Popular guy.” It wasn’t a compliment the way she said it.
He shrugged.
“How about one more?”
Chapter Three
He stared at her, almost afraid to hear her out. “One more what?”
“Offer.” She took a deep breath, linked her hands together, and stared at him with a silent dare to look away. “We need a trainer.”
No. The answer was obvious. Clear as day. He shouldn’t even be in the hotel room with her now. Too dangerous. He needed to say no.
His gut gave a little jump and roll.
Now? Fuck.
She barreled on, completely unaware of his inner turmoil. “The pay will probably suck compared to what you could get elsewhere, but I can give you what every one of these places can’t.”
“Besides money?” he asked dryly, trying to settle his stomach.
“Well, yeah. I just said that.” She rolled her eyes like he was a child speaking out of turn.
Against his better judgment, curiosity won out. “Let’s hear the pitch.”
Her eyes widened then narrowed, as if she’d already read his mind and sensed his reluctance. “Why, so you can just laugh and toss me out?”
He waved a hand toward the bed. “I haven’t made a decision yet. So it’s anyone’s game. Why should I pick you?”
“Because I need you.”
His heart all but stopped in his chest, and dropped down to rattle around in his ribs.
“I need your experience, your reputation. Your hand with the horses. I’ve got some great two-year-olds, promising colts. And strong breeding lines. And I’ve got the drive and the commitment to making it work. What I don’t have is the clout to get others to take a chance on me and my horses.”
Needed him . . . as a trainer. Right.
Time to get your head out of your pants and pay attention, Callahan.
“You don’t think they need me?” he asked, jerking a thumb at the files.
“Not like I do. Oh, they might say they need you. But they either have trainers who do well for them, or they don’t have the room to grow. Or they don’t give a shit about the future, and only want to use you for your name and pretty face.”
That’s exactly what he’d said earl—wait. “Pretty face?” He couldn’t help but smile at that.
She sat on the bed, causing the files to slide around. “Don’t get a big head.”
Peyton sitting on his bed was definitely not something he needed to be thinking about. “Is there a time limit on the offer?”
“Forty-eight hours.”
Bold. Nobody else had handed him a timeline. It’d always been at his convenience. But Peyton Muldoon and boldness went hand in hand.
“I’ll think about it.” His gut pulled again, in that way he’d learned to listen to. But he wasn’t ready yet.
She shrugged, as if the fate of her ranch didn’t hinge on his decision. “You do that.” Standing, she walked to the door, then shot him a cocky smile. “I’ll show myself out.” She shut it quietly behind herself.
He waited until he heard an engine—had to be hers—roar to life and take off, fading into the distance. Then he let out a big breath and rubbed a hand just under his sternum.
“Now? Really? With her? Anyone but her.”
It was too late. He knew, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not, the decision was made. Now he just had to make sure that they didn’t wind up hating each other on a daily basis.
Good fucking luck with that.
Peyton pulled up the long drive and debated heading right, toward the stable. But truthfully, despite her cut to Red about starting early, she needed a nap. She’d be no good to anyone without some rest. And she’d spent the entire night before tossing and turning, trying to make up her mind whether she was doing the right thing by going to Red, or if she was the world’s biggest fool.
Jury, it appeared, was still out on that one. For another forty-seven hours and counting.
But she didn’t regret going over there, even if she ended up with nothing but egg on her face. She’d never know if she didn’t try, and Red was the best chance she had to save the ranch with minimal fuss.
Besides, if she hadn’t gone over there at such an early hour, she never would have scored the prime sight of Red in nothing but his boxers. God, that’d been a treat. It would be so much easier to dislike the man if he had a potbelly, or some weird deformity. But no, he had to look like God’s gift to females. All tan, smooth skin pulled tight over hard muscles. And that intriguing little happy trail that led...