Taking the Reins(82)

Peyton laughed at that. It felt good, laughing with her sister. Maybe they could try it again tomorrow.

“So you really aren’t going to tell me who the guy was?”

Peyton sobered and stared out the window. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bea rolled her eyes and broke a piece of bacon off Peyton’s plate. “It doesn’t count if it’s not from your own plate,” she said quickly before Peyton could snark at her. “And I know that look. That satisfied, loose look. You’re getting some attention from someone, and I’m jealous.” Bea chewed the tiny piece of stolen bacon. “Though around here, I don’t know who you would be with. Knowing you, you’d have some sort of weird rule about sleeping with any of the employees. Too Sylvia for you.”

Though it was a joke, Peyton’s throat closed.

“I doubt you went into town, since I didn’t hear the Jeep drive back up, unless you parked farther away and walked. Oh!” Bea’s eyes widened. “Morgan Browning. The Brownings still live down the road, right? Was it him?”

“No. Definitely not Morgan.” The finality in Peyton’s voice was convincing, especially since it was true.

“Definitely not Morgan, which means it’s definitely someone else.” Satisfied she’d pried that much from her tight-lipped sister, Bea stood and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m just glad you’re loosening up a bit. We all have more fun when you’re not so wound up.”

Peyton waited until she heard the blender start and let her head drop into her hands. How could she have thought for a moment sleeping with someone who worked on the ranch was okay? Even Bea had made the Sylvia connection. If someone as unobservant as Bea could put two and two together . . .

Pushing away her mostly uneaten breakfast, she stood and hurried to the front door to grab her boots and get to work. She needed a distraction from that thought.



“Peyton, you’ve got a visitor.” Trace laid a hand on her shoulder as she stood in the middle of the birthing barn.

“Who is it?” she asked without turning around. Red was working out a three-year-old in the training arena, and she was mesmerized.

Red’s shirt pulled across his back as he leaned over the horse’s neck for a moment to rub his neck. His hat was tipped back, enough that she could see the fierce concentration on his face. She could have stripped naked and he wouldn’t have noticed. In Red’s world, he and the horse existed alone, in a vacuum.

Red shifted, using his legs to maintain balance and then guide the reluctant horse in the direction he wanted. There were several hundred pounds difference between man and horse, but the man was in control, always. His hands, covered in their worn leather gloves, kept their loose grip on the reins, never pulling, but keeping firm pressure.

The thought of his hands brought up reminders of his touch, how his fingers skimmed over her body so gently, so tenderly. Almost reverent in his touch. And then more roughly when she raced him to the finish line, gripping and kneading and telling her without words that he was as lost as she was when they were together. Unable to stop reaching for each other at all hours of the night.

“Peyton.”

She worked hard to contain the flush. “Sorry, what?”

Trace eyed her a moment, then shrugged. “Your visitor, a guy named Peterson. Said you weren’t expecting him, but he’s here all the same.”

Peyton nodded. “Thanks.” A quick jog to the house and a stop in the kitchen to rinse her hands off took her all of five minutes. Luckily she saw Emma had played hostess for her in the living room. A wiry man with light brown hair going gray at the temples sat with a glass of lemonade in his hand.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Peyton Muldoon.” She held out a hand and the man stood.

“Chuck Peterson. Pleased to meet ya.” He set the glass on the coffee table on a coaster. “Wondered if we might talk a little business. I’m in the market for a stud, and I’ve heard you might just be the place for it.”

“Have you?” She guided the man to her office, her heart doing a giddy skip-dance in her chest. Word of mouth was the golden ticket in the horse world.

“Yup. Came over from Wyoming, so I’m glad you could see me with no notice. Was at an event a few weeks ago, saw your brother Trace competing. Asked around, heard he was a top-notch competitor.”

“Absolutely. He’s my brother, and I love him. But I don’t mind saying it pains just a little to say when he’s on, he’s unbeatable.” She grinned when the man chuckled. If only all business meetings started so promisingly.