Her body didn’t take the opportunity. No, instead it was trying to figure out whether it’d be better to stay where it was or lift her arms for better access.
“Crazy,” he murmured.
“Hmm?” She tipped her head back, cursing the brim of her hat for blocking a good portion of her view. But she saw enough. Saw the intent telegraphed by those cool silver-gray eyes as easily as if he’d spoken his wants out loud.
And felt a quick burst of shock to realize their intensity was equaled by the tightening of her own nerves, the quickening of her own breath.
She took a chance and lifted her arms and—
Her phone rang.
Stepping back from her faster than if she were a rearing horse, Red gave her space to grab for her cell in her pocket. The realization that she’d almost made a huge, irreversible decision thanks to a healthy moment of lust had her fumbling with the phone, fighting to flip it open without dropping the thing.
“What?” she snapped.
There was a pause, then Emma’s dry voice filled her ear. “Thought you might wanna know that fella you spoke to earlier this week, that Mr. Schneider, is on the phone. I’ve got him on hold. Figured you’d want to take it.”
She growled deep in her throat at the timing of it all.
“Or I could tell him to call back later,” Emma tried again.
“No.” She bit the word off quickly. Dammit, she had no business even giving that a moment’s thought. No way could she put off a potential client to stay behind the garage with Red and . . . what? Neck like teenagers? Hardly. “Don’t. Tell him I’m coming right now.” Closing the phone with a snap, she squeezed her eyes shut a moment to rid herself of the last feeling of hazy anticipation. Not the right time, and definitely not the right guy. When she opened up again, she saw Red standing a good ten feet away, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed. Not at all affected by what might have just happened.
Or maybe you imagined the whole damn thing and he never even considered making a move on you.
“I need to . . .” She pointed toward the direction of the main house, like that was going to tell him anything. But he seemed to get the hint because he nodded and fell in step with her.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as they came to the stairs that led up to his apartment.
Apologizing for the almost-seduction? Maybe she hadn’t imagined it after all . . .
“I had no right to accuse you like that.”
Or not. She waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. We’re all a little on edge right now. I think after Trace gets back from a successful showing next weekend, we’ll have a better rhythm down.” In more ways than one.
“Agreed.”
“It’s Schneider on the phone. If he needs to talk to you, are you—”
“Just text me, I’ll hustle over or call him right back.” Red held up his cell to indicate he’d have it with him. He patted the railing of the stairs. “This is my stop.”
“Goodnight, then.”
“Peyton.” He laid a hand on her arm when she would have continued on past him.
She cursed her skin that prickled under his completely innocent touch. “Yeah?”
“Schneider’s an easy sell. Breathe.”
Peyton realized her breath was still coming in fast pants, not from stress over the phone call, but leftover nerves from their almost-moment around the corner. But he’d given her an easy out. “Thanks. I’ve got it.”
She turned and walked away, applauding herself when she made it halfway across the yard toward the house before indulging in a quick glance over her shoulder.
He was gone.
And that was good. Because she didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with an infatuation. Where was her head? How could she possibly forget for even one minute that her entire life revolved around the ranch and keeping things afloat?
So what if being that close to Red had sent her body into a spin so intense she’d been ready to forget everything she’d worked for.
So what.
Chapter Seven
The morning after what Red privately thought of as the Stupid Almost Mistake with Peyton behind the garage, he finished in the stables and headed out to where he knew Lad and Trace were waiting in the arena. He’d asked them to work for a bit on their own without him watching, trying out the partnership with no outside interference. Building confidence in both rider and horse. Afterward, they’d work out the bugs together.
But when he approached, he noticed a stable hand holding Lad’s bridle and Trace standing on the side, his back to Red.
“We’ll just wait a few more minutes for Red to get here,” Trace told the hand, who nodded.