Taking the Reins(80)

Dammit, Mac. Red halted, knowing the chase would do no good. Instead, he turned on his heel and raced back to the barn to see how far his father had gotten in the process of breaking into the barn. The lock still looked intact. Going around to the front, where the large sliding door wouldn’t be locked, he stepped onto the concrete floor. One lazy head poked out from her stall to give him a soulful look, begging for a late-night snack.

“Sorry sweetheart.” He scratched the mare between her ears. He headed a little farther in to find Steve sitting in a folding chair, boots propped up on a bucket, reading a worn paperback. “All well in here?”

Steve folded down the corner of the page and closed the book. He didn’t appear at all disturbed. “Yup. No activity, they’re all quiet.”

Red glanced around, but nothing was out of place. “Nothing weird, no strange sounds?”

“Nope.” Steve eyed him and checked his watch, pressing a button on the side to illuminate the face. “Kinda late to be making a round. Everything okay?”

Red paused, listening again to the comforting sounds of a barn at peace. Deep breathing of sleeping equines, the soft rustle of hay beneath feet, the low hum of the one overhead light kept on for Steve. “No, everything’s fine.” He gave Steve a nod and headed back out.

So his father intended to slip in to the office and slip out again. Must have figured on the ranch having twenty-four watch. It was the only reason he’d go in through a locked door rather than the easy way.

One thing was for certain. Red wasn’t about to let Peyton roam around the grounds in the dead of night. No way was he giving his father a chance to get to her.





Chapter Seventeen


She really had to stop doing this. Night after night of slipping out in the dark to meet with Red, then getting up earlier than normal to sneak back in was wearing on her.

But God, what a good week and a half it’d been. She smiled as she set her boots down on the floor by the door and tiptoed up the stairs in her socks, counting down the minutes she still had left to catch some sleep in her own bed before she’d have to start her day. And as she hit the top landing, she ran straight into something that squeaked.

“Oh my God!” Bea’s voice cried out in the dark. “Who’s th—Peyton?” Her sister’s hands gripped her upper arms. “Is that you?”

“Yeah. It’s me.” Peyton took a step back in case Bea could tell she was chilled from being outside. “What are you doing up?”

Bea took a step back herself, sliding closer toward her own bedroom door. “Bathroom.”

“You have your own bathroom in your room.”

“Right. Yeah.” Bea tapped her head and shook it. “Sorry, sleep fog. I meant water. I went downstairs for some water.”

Peyton surveyed her sister’s attire. Jeans and a sweater, though the details were difficult to make out in the dark. All that for a trip downstairs. But she wasn’t about to ask questions, which might only prompt Bea to ask where she’d been herself. So she nodded and slid to her room and shut the door behind her.

And within seconds, she was lying in her own bed, ready for a few moments of shut eye.

But her body was too wired, her nerves still singing from the delicious treatment she’d received in Red’s apartment.

The man’s hands were a gift from God.

A gift Peyton wanted to keep receiving. But each time, each night they were together, it was just another chance to get caught. Could she seriously risk being outted as sleeping with her trainer? It hadn’t exactly worked well for her mother’s reputation. That’s just what she needed . . . people thinking she was a carbon copy of Sylvia. Peyton had too much to risk. An entire staff of employees, not to mention Emma, who was more family than employee herself. Plus Trace was now on payroll, and Seth’s well-being was wrapped up in his.

And she couldn’t very well buy out Bea’s share if the place tanked.

Time to stop the nonsense, she lectured herself as she rolled over and punched her pillow into shape. Time to stop sneaking around, stop dancing with the devil just because it feels good. Time to grow up.

But oh God, she was going to miss those stolen moments with Red. All of them, not just the naked ones.

And that was the worst part of all.

An hour later, Peyton settled down to breakfast, a plate of Emma’s infamous blueberry pancakes and crispy bacon in front of her.

“You’re up early,” Emma commented lightly. “Normally you’d be rolling one of these pancakes dry and shoving it in your mouth as you ran to the barn. Couldn’t sleep last night?”

Peyton kept her eyes on the syrup as she dribbled it in a delicate pattern over the stack. “I slept fine.”