Taking the Reins(25)

Emma walked in just as she was making a final note for her own records about the call. “Potential client?”

“Yup. Wasn’t overly certain about things until I mentioned Red’s name. Then it was all ‘Oh, that’s great! When can I come by? Can’t wait to get there!’ ” Peyton snorted. “The man doesn’t even sound like he knows which way to saddle a horse, but he’s heard of Red and suddenly we’re sent from the bottom of the barrel to the top of his list.” It still burned that she had to use someone else’s reputation to bump her own. But she’d do what she had to.

Emma wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist and eyed her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t that the entire purpose of hiring Redford?”

Peyton smiled. “You know, I think you’re the only person who calls him that on a casual basis.”

“It’s his name, isn’t it?”

“That it is. And yes. It’s why we hired him. And he’s done some amazing work in the last two weeks.” The fact that Peyton had been sneaking over to watch him work with the horses more than she should have been was only a little lowering. “It’s just a bit humbling, being reminded that our own reputation isn’t doing the job.”

“That’ll change,” Emma assured her. “Now, do me a favor and take a tray up to your brother.”

“He’s got legs,” she whined in a childlike voice. “Make him come down and get it.”

“He’s got Seth with him upstairs. Be a good sister and just run it up.”

“Fine,” she muttered, but inwardly was pleased to see the baby. Not that she’d admit it, hell no. But that little boy was her new favorite thing in life. Except when he needed a diaper change. Her auntie skills only extended so far.

She passed by the living room to grab the tray in the kitchen, getting a glimpse of the training yard and Red working a yearling.

Seth isn’t your only new favorite thing . . .

Ugh. Definitely not what she should be thinking right now. She grabbed the tray Emma had left on the kitchen counter and hustled back through the sitting area and toward the double stairs. She hated the first floor, except for the kitchen and her office. Her mother felt that the appearance of wealth was the way to woo potential customers, so she’d turned the place into a gaudy palace, with floors everyone was scared to walk on, uncomfortable furniture, and artwork nobody liked, simply because they looked—in Sylvia’s word—artsy.

Peyton had another word for it. Ugly.

The upstairs, though, was the family’s haven. Comfort reigned and the main purpose of the space was to be lived in. The staircases opened into the family living area, then broke off into several bedrooms.

Trace and Seth were sprawled on the carpeted floor of the family area. Well, Trace was sprawled. Seth lay facedown on a quilt spread out on the floor, screaming his head off and flailing his arms.

“Should he be eating the quilt like that? I think a nice bottle would be better, don’t you?” She put the tray down on the coffee table and settled on the edge of the couch to watch.

“It’s called tummy time. It’s supposed to help with crawling and neck strength and crap,” Trace replied testily. But when he reached out to rub his son’s back, his movements were smooth and soft. “He’s not a fan, but the book says it’s good for him.”

As she watched, Seth struggled to raise his head, arms helplessly pushing against the blanket to support his upper body. Tears streaked his cheeks and his gums were showing as he wailed in protest.

“What book was this, 101 Ways To Torment Your Child?”

“Okay, dude. All right. Come here.” Rolling onto his back, Trace grabbed Seth and plopped him stomach-down over his chest so they were nose to nose. Instantly the crying stopped and a gurgle of happiness sounded.

“Why is it he hated being on his stomach on the blanket, but that’s fine?”

“Face to face contact, best I can tell.” Trace smiled and ran one fingertip down his son’s cheek. “I don’t really mind. I’d rather hang with the guy this way than listen to him cry anyway.”

Watching the tender father-son moment had Peyton swallowing back tears. Being an aunt was something she hadn’t thought of before, though she was catching on easily. A kid as cute as Seth made the aunt gig a no-brainer. Watching her brother as a father was a daily source of amazement. Not that he didn’t have it in him. But knowing he was capable and seeing it in action were two totally different things.

The number of books he read on the subject of child-rearing was almost comical. He constantly asked Emma for her advice, which she was more than willing to impart. And he didn’t try to foist the kid off on the older woman more than necessary, choosing to stay home rather than run wild in town at night. More than once she’d heard him singing a soft sweet country lullaby to Seth when he was fussy at night.