Taking the Reins(35)

He wanted those hands sifting through his hair, scratching and scraping his own scalp. And dammit, no, he didn’t. He didn’t want that at all. Acting like a fool, taking that road. Red rolled his eyes at himself and stood. “I checked on the breeding stalls, and Suzy Q is close to dropping foal.”

Peyton nodded absently, her hand sliding down to rub the horse’s nose. “I saw her earlier. Tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”

From what little he knew, females were a complex breed . . . no matter what species. He wasn’t about to bet his money on any one of the fairer sex doing what she was expected to. But he nodded anyway. “The others will be close soon. I’d like to see the schedule of rotation on who stays in the barn overnight.”

Peyton shrugged. “That’s Arby’s thing, so you can ask him.”

He would. Then he shrugged in a mirror gesture of her own. “I know a few guys, if you want to call them in to do an analysis of the area, get quotes on how much it’d cost for the closed circuit cameras in here.”

She watched him from the corner of her eye, and he already knew what she was thinking. So before she could break down her pride to ask—because that could take all damn day, knowing her stubborn ass—he added, “Free consultations. Just quotes.”

She grimaced, as if hating that it even had to be said, but then she sighed. “Yeah. I know. It’s something to think about. I know at Ten Fork they have alarm systems for when the ladies lie down. You probably wish we were more advanced.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s different, that’s all. Sometimes technology gets in the way. It doesn’t—”

“Encourage you to trust your instincts?” Peyton finished, grinning. “I’ve always thought that, too. It’s great and all, and I know we need the cameras, for marketing as well as sheer practicality. But sometimes I feel like we give too much power to the machines and not enough to ourselves.”

Smart woman. At least to his way of thinking. “They all have instructions to call you and me both, right?”

“Yup. In that order.” She gave him a cheeky smile.

As he walked away, he muttered, “Stubborn female.” But he was smiling, in spite of himself.





The call at one in the morning shocked him out of a deep sleep.

The barn. Suzy Q.

He grabbed for his cell and answered while standing to grab the nearest pair of jeans he could find.

“Son! What’s going on with you?”

“Da—Dad?” He stopped, one leg in his jeans, and sat down on the bed. Figured. It just figured Mac would wake him up when he needed sleep the most, to stay sharp when the call from the barn came.

“How many people you got calling you, son?” Mac’s gruff voice asked.

“Too many to count,” he replied, because being a smart-ass was easier than reminding his father he didn’t like to be called son. It was too ironic a nickname, since his father resented parenthood more often than not.

“You wound me.” The words were slightly slurred and Red rolled his eyes.

“What did you need, Dad?” He pulled the jeans off his leg and shifted to lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I wasn’t calling for anything. But now that you mention it, a couple hundred for—”

“No.”

Mac sighed, taking the instant rejection philosophically. “I really called to see if you landed somewhere. Last we talked, you hadn’t found a place yet.”

“Yes, I found a place. And so no, I won’t be taking you up on the offer to come out there with you.” Just like he’d said the last time. Not that being told no ever had any effect whatsoever on Mac Callahan.

“That offer was ages ago. Jackass left me high and dry anyway. I wouldn’t let you near him with a ten-foot pole.”

“Uh huh.” All of which was likely code for I was drinking on the job and got caught. Or maybe I got into it with the law—again—and my employer wouldn’t bail me out. Or the old standby, Things started going missing and they can’t prove it was me . . . but I got let go anyway.

Variety was the spice of life, as long as the spices were vaguely familiar.

“So I’m hoping you can point me in the right direction.”

“Right direction for what?” Red turned to watch the clock tick another minute off. Another minute he wouldn’t be sleeping, when being well-rested was integral to his job performance.

What was Peyton doing now? Sleeping? Reading? Thinking of him?

“Where you are, dummy. I need to know how to get there.”

Red sat up again, staring into the dark his eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to yet. “There . . . where?”