With a view like that, he might just follow her off a cliff.
“So what did you think of the place?”
During their tour, Peyton had spoken with such pride, such loyalty to her ranch. And she did have reason to be pleased, Red could admit.
“Nice area, big but not unmanageable. Seems like your staff knows what they’re doing”—though he’d double-check that himself—“and clean. I highly recommend investing in some surveillance cameras in the breeding section, especially in the foaling stalls. Owners like the security, and it makes the operation easier to monitor.” He smiled a little. “Upgrades matter to potential buyers, whether you’re talking about cars or horses.”
She scowled as she approached a building at the back of the property, the last in a circle of buildings that made up the business. “I know. They’re just expensive. It’s on the list. And finally,” she said, her tone telling him she wasn’t about to go into the budget with him, “we have the equipment garage.” Peyton yanked hard on the door handle to the large building, sliding the door along the dirty floor with effort.
Red would offer to help, but knowing Peyton, she’d bite him. So he slipped his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, waiting patiently.
“I hate when you do that.” She dusted her hands off on the thighs of her jeans and shook her head.
“Do what?”
“Do that patient thing.” She waved a hand at his body like that was going to give him any clues. “The whole ‘I could stand here all day, I’m fine’ thing. Nobody has that much patience.”
“I hear it’s a virtue, especially working with the stock.”
“Well, you’re not with animals now. You’re with a human.” She stepped inside, into the much cooler, shady interior of the barn.
“Yes, I am.” Though after spending a good hour in her presence, he was feeling a little animalistic himself.
“Here’s where we keep all the big equipment. Also where all the ranch trucks and trailers go at the end of the night.” She turned a tight circle. “Though we’re thinking of building a smaller one, more garage-style, for just the trucks. Seems impractical to have them settling in next to the tractors.”
“If you want an opinion on where to put the building, let me know,” he offered mildly.
She gave him a surprised glance, but nodded. “Thanks. Over on that side of the barn, on the outside, there’s a set of stairs that lead up to your apartment. Remind me to give you the key later.”
“Will do.”
“Peyton? You in here?”
Both turned, but looking out from the darkened barn with the sun shining at the angle it was, it was impossible for Red to see who the visitor was.
Not that Peyton needed any help identifying the man. “Hey, Morgan. Come on in.”
A man probably in his thirties, taller than Red by at least two inches but definitely lankier, stepped forward. Long legs carried him in a few steps to Peyton’s side. His shirt was new looking, though dusty. And he wore a pair of glasses that looked smudged with dirt.
And he was vaguely familiar, though Red struggled to nail down where he’d seen him before.
“Oh my Lord, you’re a mess.” Peyton laughed and reached up for his face. The man clearly knew what she was up to, because he bent over enough to give her access. Plucking the glasses off his face, she patted his cheek and started cleaning the lenses off with the corner of her shirt. As she lifted the material up, Red got a glimpse of smooth skin and a hint of rib before she let the cotton go to hand the glasses back.
“Thanks. Thought it looked a little darker today than it should have.” He finally—finally—noticed Red standing there like an idiot and held out a hand. “Morgan Browning.”
Ah. Now it clicked. One of the area’s large breed vets. And apparently, close personal friend of Peyton Muldoon’s. “Red Callahan.” He shook, feeling like a third wheel and hating the way Peyton smiled at the man. And feeling five kinds of fool that he hated it at all.
“Horse trainer, right? I thought you were over at Three Trees now.” Morgan stuffed his hands in his pockets, smiling easily.
“Finished up there. Now I’m here. With Peyton,” he added, for no reason at all.
“He’s M-Star’s trainer now,” she clarified when Morgan gave her a confused look. To Red, she added, “Morgan’s our vet, so you’ll likely get to see him around often enough.”
“Convenient for all, since I just live down the way.”
“With your parents,” she put in with a laugh.