Taking the Reins(85)

“No, can’t say that I do.” Red grabbed his father’s bicep and pulled until the man started to move. “Let’s go talk in my office.” Talking was the last thing Red wanted to do, but getting him out of the stable was the first priority.

Mac let his son pull him a few feet, then planted his heels. Though Red wasn’t weak, his father was a big man. Short of finding a wheelbarrow, he wasn’t going to move him without some cooperation.

“I rather like the atmosphere in here.” Mac’s eyes roamed over the stables, taking in the clean floors, the high ceiling, the few curious horses who were watching. “Nice setup. Classy joint.”

“Agreed. I can give you the grand tour, starting with my living quarters.” Desperate to move the man, Red threw one arm around his father’s shoulder as if hugging him from the side, trying to step forward. But Mac didn’t budge.

“Nah. I like it here. I was just telling your boys back there how glad I was we were living in the same town now. We haven’t been close for a while, nice that we have this time to catch up.”

The boys, as Mac called them, were listening with poorly concealed curiosity, soaking up every word, every bit of body language. Red nodded. “But since you’re heading out of town soon—”

“Oh, no. Where’d you get an idea like that?” The gleam in Mac’s eyes sent red flags flying through Red’s brain. “I’ve got plans to plant some roots, I do. Make a name for myself here. You’ve already started. The Callahans of Marshall, South Dakota. Has a nice ring to it.”

From the corner of his eye, Red caught Arby leaning in a doorway, watching silently. Another hand stood with him. The crowds were slowly gathering. Drama in the stables brought all the ants to the picnic.

Dammit. He didn’t want to actually use the threat he’d given his father, but he was left with no choice. “Dad,” he said softly, angling his back to the onlookers. “Your deadline’s almost up, in case you forgot.”

Mac nodded. “Sure, sure. Deadline. About that, though.” Mac scratched at his week-old beard as if thinking things through on the fly. “See, I’ve got a bit of a problem with how you tried to push me out of town. Made me wonder if you had something to hide.”

No. Not here. Please, God, anywhere but here. “Dad, don’t make me do this. Go somewhere else, start fresh, and move on.”

“I think not. I think I’d rather stick around.” Mac took a step back, out of Red’s reach. “Shouldn’t hold threats over someone’s head unless your own nose is squeaky clean.”

What the hell could he possibly be talking about? Red had no criminal history, had no problems with previous employers. He was bluffing. “No problems there, then.”

Mac stared at him, judging, considering a long moment. Then he shrugged. “Maybe there isn’t a problem after all. I didn’t realize everyone around here was good with you screwing the Muldoon gal.” Slapping a thick hand on Red’s shoulder, he said, “Take what ass you can, when you can, right? Though banging the boss is a bit of a cliché, even for us Callahans.”

Something behind him dropped, a piece of brass hitting the concrete. Boots shuffled over the floor, edging away, as the men finally realized this was the wrong conversation to be listening in on.

Fuck.

One corner of his father’s mouth twitched, as if holding back a satisfied smile. “I think some of the local businessmen might be interested to know what all goes into a Muldoon business deal.”

Red shrugged his father’s hand off, resisting the urge to plow his fist through his father’s face. Satisfying, yes. Helpful, not in this case. “I don’t know where you get off making up shit like that,” he growled, feeling the heat creep up his neck. Heat from temper as much as embarrassment. “But you need to get the hell off the property. Now.”

Mac smiled and shook his head. “Manners. I keep telling ya, you’ve got no manners. But I’ll head out for now. Call if you want to grab a bite to eat or something, or stop on by. You know where I work.”

Sauntering away, as if he’d just scored big at the craps table, Mac headed out the stable doors. A moment later an engine started up, and tires crunched down the driveway.

Red swiped his hat off and ran a hand down his face. So his father had seen more than Red could have guessed the other night. It made Red’s stomach turn to think about his father spying on that intimate moment with Peyton. And his entire body clenched at the thought of what his father’s little show would mean for them both.