Taking the Reins(40)

Silence reigned for a moment.

“Ever considered AI?”

Artificial Insemination. She grimaced, though she didn’t mean to. “No. I know it has its uses, and that’s fine. But for us . . .” She sighed and rotated, turning her back to the stall and leaning her shoulders against the wood. “I would just rather keep some things the same. The mating process here is as natural as we can make it, while still being safe. With all the sweat, and the work it takes. The entire teasing game from the beginning, letting him know she’s here, she’s the one for him but he can’t have her quite yet. The energy you get when he covers her, keeping on your toes in case you have a biter and have to separate them. The pheromones flying around the place . . .” She trailed off, realizing what she’d said, how it’d come out. And she glanced, horrified, at Red to see if he was even paying attention.

He was not just paying attention, but honed in on her with an intensity she hadn’t seen in a man’s eyes . . . ever. Like he might jump her the minute her back was turned, pull her into an empty stall, and cover her like a stallion with his mate, and damn whoever else was in the stables and could hear them.

Jesus God in heaven. What had she started? Inching away, she kept herself facing him. “So, I have . . . stuff. Work. Things like that.”

His eyes tracked her movements, and for a moment she had the distinct impression of being hunted by Red. A predator watching for any hint, any slight weakness to pounce on and bring his prey down.

And it shouldn’t turn her on, how intense he was. It should scare the crap out of her. But she felt it, felt it deep inside where she hid all her feminine, girly thoughts and wishes.

“So, let’s get in there and see how our new guy is doing.” Morgan stepped up, rubbing his hands together. Then, sensing the tension between the two, he paused and pushed his glasses up just a little. “Did I interrupt a conversation? I can come back in a few—”

“Nope.” Red cut him off with the single word, but his eyes never left Peyton’s. “We’re done here.” Then he turned and left without another word, without another heated glance in her direction.

Morgan whistled through his teeth. “Peyton, Peyton, Peyton.”

“What?” she snapped, finally looking at her friend rather than the trainer walking away.

“You got it bad.”

“What’s ‘it’?”

He poked her in the shoulder, hard. That’s what she liked about Morgan. He didn’t pull punches—figuratively—with her because she was a female. “Don’t play coy. It doesn’t fit under your hat.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sorry for not being a dopey girl. And just for the record, I have nothing. Bad or otherwise.”

“Liar, liar, Wranglers on fire,” he sang, unlatching the stall door and sliding it open.

“Bite me.”

“You’re asking the wrong man, if I’m not mistaken.”

Peyton walked away, flipping him the bird over her shoulder when he laughed.





Piss poor timing, Morgan.

Though Red had no clue what might have happened had the vet not stepped in, he knew it was something important. Something he needed to explore.

The fact that he still had a job spoke volumes. Peyton might feel like he was their only shot, but that wasn’t the truth. And she wasn’t an idiot. There were other ways to get back on their feet. His reputation might get them there faster, but Peyton wasn’t going to sacrifice her own dignity for it.

So she was keeping him around for some other reason.

Knowing he would do nobody any good, he checked with Tiny to see which horse might need some exercise, then saddled up the meanest of the group for a hard ride around the perimeter of the property. He needed the time to think about something other than her. And his mount was enjoying the challenge. Double advantage. Soon enough, his mind cleared and he had to focus his entire attention on keeping the animal in check. The ornery SOB—a five-year-old stallion named Salamander—kept him engaged the entire ride, testing his limits every step of the way.

But an hour later, when he rode back into the stable and started to dismount, his eyes automatically started scanning the area for Peyton.

Clearly he hadn’t ridden hard enough, long enough. Probably no way to do that. He was screwed where that woman was concerned. Only confirmed his suspicions from the beginning. Which was why he’d tried to avoid taking the job in the first place.

Now look where it got him.

Trace walked up beside him, Ninja on a lead. “Did you clear your head yet?”

“Hmm?” Red led Salamander, who was trying to take a chunk out of his shoulder with his teeth, to his stall and started the process of unsaddling.