“Hush.” She mimicked a beak closing with her fingers. “I don’t know why he’d send me something this late. Probably a misdial. I think there’s someone he’s interested in at school. Maybe he . . .” Peyton felt the blood rush from her head as she read the message. “Shit. Bea, we gotta go.”
“Now?” Bea stared at her half-full drink. “We just got here.”
Peyton tossed a twenty and a ten on the table—likely an overpayment for the drinks, but she wasn’t waiting around for the bill—and hopped down. “Haul ass, princess. Something’s up at home.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“If you don’t mind me giving you a little advice . . .”
Trace started, rocking back on his heels as he paced through the tiny apartment.
“I do mind,” Red answered, knowing it was pointless. Though Trace wasn’t drunk, he was slowly but surely plowing through the beer with full steam. No real reason why, it seemed. Red wasn’t about to judge. Sometimes a man just needed to let loose with other males.
Even if one of the males in question hadn’t celebrated his first birthday yet.
“Too bad. I say screw what people think.”
“Including me?” Red chuckled when Trace’s face went blank with confusion. “Sorry. You were making a point?”
“Hell yeah. You two thought you were so clever, sneaking around. But Emma knows all.”
“Emma?” Red went a little white at the thought. That woman was scarier than a two-ton bull headed right at you in an open field. Nowhere to hide. “Emma knows?”
“Of course Emma knows. Emma’s all knowing.” Trace looked disgusted Red would even question the thought. “I’d be willing to bet most people knew already around here. They were just keeping their traps shut ’cause they like Peyton and their paycheck.”
“Not everyone will keep their traps shut. Not everyone likes Peyton.”
“Because she’s a girl? Yeah. Fuck them.” Trace shot a guilty glance at his son, dead asleep on the makeshift pallet he’d created out of his jacket on the floor. “Sorry, bud.”
“I think he’s still conked out.”
“Yeah, well, the books say to start curbing the language early. They’re sponges, you know.”
No, he didn’t know. But it amused Red that Trace scoured through parenting books looking for answers. He was a good guy, Trace Muldoon. Not at all what he’d expected. But that’s what he got for making assumptions based on a profile built up through the rodeo media.
“She’s done with me. I’m not going to force myself on her.”
“She’s not done with you. I know my sister. She’s not a quitter. She just hasn’t figured out an angle yet. Give her some cool-down time and try again.”
Amused, Red crossed his arms and propped one foot up on the chair Trace had evacuated to pace around. “You giving me tips on how to pick up your sister?”
“Hell no. I’d rather you stayed away from her.” Trace shrugged. “But it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? Might as well be you rather than someone else.”
“Better the devil you know?” he mumbled.
Trace saluted him with his bottle. “Got it in one.”
Red’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. “I thought you said your sisters went out for some girls’ night thing.”
“They did.”
“Then why is Peyton calling me?” He answered. “Peyton, what’s up?”
“Red, thank God. Billy texted me and there’s trouble at the house and Trace is there with the baby and I didn’t want to call him unless I knew what was going on and—”
“Peyton, slow down.” He stood, body going on high alert at the panic and fear in his woman’s voice. “Slow down, baby. Trace and Seth are here in my apartment. They’re fine.”
“Thank God,” she breathed, and he heard her repeat what he’d just said to someone else. A feminine voice echoed her gratitude. Bea’s voice.
“Where are you?”
“Driving home. Well, Bea is, I’m riding shotgun. Luckily he texted before we’d drunk too much to drive home. Now listen. Billy said he was out at the barn, staying over with one of the grooms. When he went out to take a leak, he caught movement by the main house, like a person walking around the back, by the kitchen door. Knows it isn’t Emma—her car isn’t there. I know it’s not you or Trace. So it’s someone up to no good. I thought Trace might be in there and—”
“Say no more. When you get here, keep the car down by the end of the drive and lock the doors. Don’t come out unless you hear the okay from me or Trace. Keep your cell phones ready to call either 911 or one of us for help.”