Taking the Reins(51)

As his lips cruised down her jaw, all her nerve endings stood up and started a line dance. She jerked as the tip of his tongue traced over her pulse, knocking his hat to the ground. The hand on her butt started to knead, the one behind her head slipping down and around to cup her breast. And she almost stopped breathing. The gentle, tender way he touched her made her knees weak. He might say he wanted someone sturdy, but he treated her like glass. And it made her want to cry with the realization she’d wanted to be treated the same way. At least for a minute.

Voices on the other side of the way, just outside the barn reminded her they weren’t in a dark bedroom, lying on a feather-filled mattress with all the time in the world to explore. No, they were seconds away from getting caught by a couple of her men, blowing all her hard work.

“Dammit.” Red pulled back before she had a chance to make a decision. Regret creased his brows and he smoothed one thumb down her cheek before his hand fell to his side. “Now is definitely not the time for this.”

“No,” she breathed, then cleared her throat. “It’s not.”

Red’s voice dropped to a low, gravelly tone she hadn’t heard from him before. Something she could recognize as lust. “What I’ve got in mind where you’re concerned requires a soft bed and an entire night. I’m not settling for a wooden barrel and five stolen minutes in some dark corner.”

That snapped her back to reality. “No,” she said again. The word came out in a short burst of breath. She used the moment to push off, out of reach.

“What—”

“No.” Pleased by the force it came out with the second time, she blinked until her own eyes were clear of any lingering lust-haze. “Can’t.”

“I said that already. Right now isn’t the time for—”

“Not now, not ever. We can’t.”

Red’s eyes narrowed. “You’re too honest for that. Call it what it is, Peyton. Won’t.”

“You’re right.” She nodded and bent to pick up his hat, making sure their fingers didn’t touch as she handed it over. “But it comes out to the same thing. We can’t do this again. We won’t,” she corrected before he could jump down her throat.

Calmer now, he brushed his hat off and settled it on his head. Then the corner of his mouth ticked up. “So you say, boss.” With that confusing parting shot, he left her in the darkness.

Literally and figuratively.





Chapter Eleven


“Trace.” Peyton stuck her head in Seth’s room to find her brother finishing up with Seth’s morning dress routine. “I think it’s time.”

He nodded and gave Seth an absent pat on the bottom. “You’re right. It’s just gonna piss her off anyway. Might as well let her cool down while we’re out of the state. Let me run him down to Emma and I’ll be back up.”

Peyton waited impatiently in the family room while he took his son to the housekeeper, who Peyton could guess was already in the kitchen. She should be in there, too, grabbing breakfast on her way to get some work done. But thanks to her sister’s skill at avoiding confrontation—a trick she’d honed as a child and clearly had only perfected during their years apart—Peyton realized drastic action was required.

“Okay.” Trace hit the top step and nodded. “You go in first.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you’re the girl. If she’s sleeping naked or something, I don’t wanna walk in on that.” Trace pushed her at Bea’s bedroom door until she had no choice but to open it and walk through, or be slammed into the wood. She chose the first.

“Bea?” Glancing around the door, she blinked into the pitch black room. The sun had just started its slow creep up the sky, but at least some light should have shown through the big windows by this time.

Then she noticed the blanket her sister must have draped over the curtain rod, blocking out every inch of the window blinds and effectively turning her room into a cave. No wonder the woman could sleep until noon. Rolling her eyes, Peyton strode into the room and yanked the blanket down.

The room didn’t flood with light, which would have been more satisfying. But the noise and small light that did seep in was enough to wake Bea.

“What the . . . hey!” Bea sat up in bed, and Peyton was grateful to see she wore a nightgown. “Put that back! I’m still on Cali time.”

“That excuse would have worked a week ago. Now? You’re on Lazy time. We need to talk.”

Bea huffed and pulled her blankets around her like a queen gathering her skirts before sitting on the royal throne. “Your reasons for doing this at six in the morning are what?”