“Wherever you landed for work. I figure any place you found is bound to be a classy operation. Wouldn’t kick a man while he’s down, yeah? So the way I see it, they’d likely have another spot open for me, being your old man and all.”
“No.” Jesus Christ, no.
His father laughed, the same rusty sounding laugh he remembered from his childhood. Whether with a hooker in the room next door, conning someone out of their last paycheck, or hanging out with old friends, Mac was usually laughing. For someone who lived on the edge of the law, he had a lot of natural humor.
Maybe that’s why Red found so little humorous.
“Boy, now that’s not friendly. We can be a package deal. They’re bound to trust your dad. Where do they think you got your skills?”
Not from his father, that was for damn sure. Though Mac wasn’t terrible in the saddle, he wasn’t going to win any rodeos. No, Red learned from practical application and dedication to what he loved.
“Not gonna happen, Dad. This isn’t the place for you.”
“Of course it is. My place is with my son.”
He started to feel a moment of worry. Just a tiny little tic in the corner of his brain. And he knew it wasn’t out of self-preservation. Though that was a consideration as well . . .
No, this was from a need to protect Peyton from his con-artist father. She was too far in the hole right now to dig herself out from another disappointment, another setback.
His phone beeped in his ear, and he pulled it away far enough to see the screen.
“Dad, I have to go. The barn is paging me.”
“But what about—”
He disconnected the call without a second thought and switched lines. “Callahan.”
“Suzy Q’s ready,” was all Steve said.
He grabbed his jeans and started pulling them on again, realizing they were backward before trying once more, this time the right way. Stuffing sockless feet into his boots, he grabbed his hat and the first shirt he could find, shoving his arms through the holes while jogging down the stairs.
Chapter Eight
Foaling, when going right, was a quick process. The whole thing could be over and done with in under thirty minutes. No time for Red to jack around with making sure he looked pretty for the event.
He jogged across the yard, heading straight for the barn. Peyton must have slept in her clothes, because she had beat him there and looked way more put together than he did.
She glanced at him as they headed to the back where the breeding stalls were. Her eyes lowered to his chest and held there. “You forget something?”
He glanced down and realized he’d forgotten to button up his shirt. “Shit. Sorry.”
She smiled, more understanding than amused. “I know. Exciting. No matter how many times I witness it, it’s exciting.” She waited until he finished buttoning the bottom few buttons, then handed him a digital camera. “Keep the flash off, there’s enough light in there. But take pictures.”
He held the small digital camera in his large hand. “And what are you going to be doing?”
She lifted her own hand, wrapped around a small video camera. “Filming. Client will get both video and pictures to document the happy occasion.”
Smart. Not to mention . . . “Helps in case anyone wants to sue for wrongdoing.” With the lack of video surveillance, it was a necessity.
She winked at him. “You got it.” Their tones became more hushed the closer they got to the stall. Steve was already there, standing out of the way while Arby slid the door open just a little.
“She’s on the far left,” Arby said in a hushed, gravelly tone, tilting his head in that direction for emphasis.
“Thanks, Arby.” As she passed by Steve, she gave him an affectionate pat on the arm before stepping in. Red clenched his teeth a little at the obviously lovesick look the young employee shot after her. Being no more than twenty-three, with the maturity to match an eighteen-year-old, Steve didn’t have a shot in hell of making Peyton see him as a potential dating prospect. Red knew that well enough. Not to mention, he worked for her. But that didn’t seem to make it any easier to not shoot daggers at the kid. Instead he followed Peyton into the stall, quickly taking his place as quietly as he could next to her on the floor, as far away from the laboring mare as possible.
They watched in silence, almost as if the world had left them behind and this stall was a little cocoon of life. Snapping pictures as often as possible, hoping some of them turned out well enough to use, he paused to glance at Peyton.
She balanced the small camera on her knee, pointed at the mare, but she watched over the top, not through the viewfinder. And her expression was one of awe. Totally focused on the process, not even registering his own presence.