Taking the Reins(33)

Red’s face and neck flushed. “Peyton . . .” Wait, she thought he had rough edges? “I think it’s time for this kid to head to his favorite aunt.”

“I have paperwork. And phone calls.” Her brows lowered. “Where’s Emma?”

“Sick.” Which was what Red was about to be if this bundle woke up completely and realized he wasn’t dear old dad.

Peyton sighed, then apparently decided to take pity on him. She took another step up and swung easily over the gate despite her height disadvantage, slipping a hand between the baby and his chest and retrieving the kid. The moment he was gone, Red’s chest felt cool, like it was missing something. But that was just the loss of heat, he rationalized.

He watched as Peyton cradled the child expertly. She touched a finger to his nose and he opened his eyes, giving her a gummy smile and grabbing for her hand. She smiled back and cooed a nonsense word, which delighted the kid into a giggle.

“Yes, you love your auntie, don’t you? Who’s your favorite? Me? I think so, too,” she sang to him softly.

The coolness faded and warmth spread through his chest, swirling down into his gut the way a shot of good Jack did.

She was meant for this. All of it. Peyton Muldoon was a woman meant to have it all. The ranch she loved, and a family, too. If there was a woman alive who could keep the two running like a well-oiled John Deere, it was she.

For just a moment, he regretted he wasn’t a family man. That his life had always been about being as loose and free as possible, from the moment he was born. He’d been destined to live the life of a wanderer. And it was the first time he could ever remember considering any other way.

“Red, quick question,” Trace called from behind him.

He turned toward Trace, holding Lad at attention in the center of the ring, waiting for him.

“Yeah. Coming.”





Peyton sat still on her bed, book open and ignored in her lap. The night was so quiet without Trace. She almost missed hearing the dull hum of the TV he left on after he passed out, sprawled over the couch like he had when he was a teen.

Funny how she’d gone from loving her solitude and privacy to missing her brother so ferociously in the span of a few weeks.

It was only one night. But she realized she wanted him back home. Which only served as a reminder that they were still one sibling short of a full house. Without thought, she reached for her cell phone and tried once again to reach Bea. Not surprising, she was sent straight to voicemail. But this time, she tried a different tact.

“Bea, it’s me. I’ve asked you to come back so many times, I’ve lost count. I asked you to come back for Mama. For the ranch. For business. None of that worked. So I’ll ask you to come back for me. I miss my sister. Plus, you have a nephew that is dying to meet his Auntie Bea. So come home, please? We need you.”

She clicked the end call button, set the phone on the bed in front of her, and stared at it. Why, she had no clue. It wasn’t like she expected Bea to hear the voicemail and immediately call back.

Okay, maybe she had. Just a little. But clearly that wasn’t going to happen. She set the phone back on her nightstand, then heard Seth start to wake. Peyton checked the nightstand clock. Yup, midnight bottle time. Stuffing the cell in her sweatshirt pocket, she made her way to the mini-fridge in the family living area where they kept the overnight bottles pre-made. She retrieved Seth, changed his diaper, then settled down in the rocking chair Emma had found in the attic along with the crib and waited for him to finish eating.

Which he did, in ten minutes flat. “Greedy as your daddy when it comes to food, aren’t you?” she teased softly, putting the child over her shoulder for a burp before laying him back down. But when he proved he wasn’t ready to sleep just yet, she sat back in the rocker and gave up on the idea of heading to her room anytime soon.

“You’re not so bad to have around, you know,” she told him. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure how you’d fit in at first. But you proved me wrong. Even charmed that big old horse trainer, didn’t you?” She snickered. “When you weren’t busy scaring the piss out of him.” She paused a moment, then added, “Don’t say piss. Your daddy would skin me. I guess we’ll keep you. Yup. You passed your trial run. Long as I don’t have to wear that Bjorn thing. No, Auntie Peyton is not signing up for that one. No way. ’Cause Daddy looks silly wearing it, doesn’t he? Yes, he does.”

Her phone buzzed and she reached in her pocket to grab it.

“It’s a text from your daddy.” She read the text, then called Trace rather than attempting to text back with her arms full.