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Authors: Kat Murray

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BOOK: Taking the Reins (Roped and Wrangled)
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He knocked on the door, which was cracked a bit, and heard a feminine voice bid him enter. And walking in, he paused a moment to watch her work.
Peyton Muldoon, little queen of her realm, sat behind a large oak desk that dwarfed her. The desk was obviously built for work, not show, though it was an attractive piece of furniture in itself. Bookshelves lined one entire wall, and he saw all manner of books sitting there. From veterinary help manuals to horse genealogy to . . . was that the latest best-selling thriller novel?
Peyton Muldoon. So many layers.
“Done studying my office?”
Her words jarred him back to the present. “Sure am.” Why bother denying?
She sat back, laced her fingers together over her stomach. One of her braids, which made her hair look even darker than usual, flipped over her shoulder. “You probably know what I’m going to say.”
He sat down in the chair opposite and mirrored her posture. “How about we not go down the assumption road and just talk in real time?”
“Fine. I’m offering you the job.”
“Done.”
“Comes with the trainer room, which is an apartment built over the equipment barn. Sounds primitive but it’s actually pretty nice.”
“Works for me.” An apartment within arm’s reach of the facility, where he wouldn’t have to fight off bedbugs or be awoken by the prostitute next door with her john at three in the morning? It was his childhood dream come true. Not that she needed to know that.
Leaning forward, she pushed a paper across the desk. “Here’s the salary information, as well as the other typical hiring info you’ll need.”
He was supposed to be grabbing for the paper. But instead he couldn’t stop looking at her shirt to see if it was a figment of his imagination, or did he catch a hint of her cleavage when she leaned over . . .
“Callahan.”
“Hmm?”
She gave him a sugary smile. “Like I said before, the pay’s likely not what you’re used to.”
She thought he’d been staring at the hiring information, not her chest. Good enough for him. “I’m fine with it. Don’t need much. Place to park my trailer and somewhere to set my boots at night.”
One disbelieving brow winged up. “Not going to negotiate better pay? Better benefits?”
“There are no benefits.”
“As I said . . .” She sighed and raised her hands. “Fine. Here’s the contract. Go ahead and sign your life away.” As he reached for the second paper she slid across the desk, she snatched it back, paper fluttering in the air. He looked up into her eyes, all kidding and amusement gone. “You realize this is a permanent position we’re offering. Not one of your
here today, gone tomorrow
gigs? You’re being brought in to build the brand. Not just fix a singular problem.”
“Yeah. I know.” His hand snaked out and tried to pull the paper, but she held it firmly.
“If you get a better offer next week and quit on me, I’m not going to be happy. There’s an easy-out clause in here, despite my better judgment, but my lawyer insisted it was for both our benefits. And I’m gonna be pissed if you use it soon after starting.”
“You don’t seem all that happy with me right now.” He tugged again, but it was like she’d glued the page to the wood. “I need this back so I can sign it, you know.”
“Right.” She let up and settled back. And, he couldn’t help but notice, she watched with an eagle eye as his pen scratched across the surface of the page with his signature and date.
“Good. Now that that’s done, time for a tour.” She stood and grabbed her hat from one of the bookshelves. As she walked by him, he was eye level with her waist. Dang, she was a tiny thing.
She turned to open the door, and he got a nice view of her backside.
Not tiny everywhere. Curves where it counted. He liked that in a woman.
“Let’s go, cowboy. I’ve got things to do later on.”
He debated a moment telling her he’d already done his research, knew the general outline of the ranch. But that seemed imprudent, so he meekly stood and followed her out, slipping on his boots next to her at the front door and following her out toward the stables.
With a view like that, he might just follow her off a cliff.
 
“So what did you think of the place?”
During their tour, Peyton had spoken with such pride, such loyalty to her ranch. And she did have reason to be pleased, Red could admit.
“Nice area, big but not unmanageable. Seems like your staff knows what they’re doing”—though he’d double-check that himself—“and clean. I highly recommend investing in some surveillance cameras in the breeding section, especially in the foaling stalls. Owners like the security, and it makes the operation easier to monitor.” He smiled a little. “Upgrades matter to potential buyers, whether you’re talking about cars or horses.”
She scowled as she approached a building at the back of the property, the last in a circle of buildings that made up the business. “I know. They’re just expensive. It’s on the list. And finally,” she said, her tone telling him she wasn’t about to go into the budget with him, “we have the equipment garage.” Peyton yanked hard on the door handle to the large building, sliding the door along the dirty floor with effort.
Red would offer to help, but knowing Peyton, she’d bite him. So he slipped his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, waiting patiently.
“I hate when you do that.” She dusted her hands off on the thighs of her jeans and shook her head.
“Do what?”
“Do that patient thing.” She waved a hand at his body like that was going to give him any clues. “The whole ‘I could stand here all day, I’m fine’ thing. Nobody has that much patience.”
“I hear it’s a virtue, especially working with the stock.”
“Well, you’re not with animals now. You’re with a human.” She stepped inside, into the much cooler, shady interior of the barn.
“Yes, I am.” Though after spending a good hour in her presence, he was feeling a little animalistic himself.
“Here’s where we keep all the big equipment. Also where all the ranch trucks and trailers go at the end of the night.” She turned a tight circle. “Though we’re thinking of building a smaller one, more garage-style, for just the trucks. Seems impractical to have them settling in next to the tractors.”
“If you want an opinion on where to put the building, let me know,” he offered mildly.
She gave him a surprised glance, but nodded. “Thanks. Over on that side of the barn, on the outside, there’s a set of stairs that lead up to your apartment. Remind me to give you the key later.”
“Will do.”
“Peyton? You in here?”
Both turned, but looking out from the darkened barn with the sun shining at the angle it was, it was impossible for Red to see who the visitor was.
Not that Peyton needed any help identifying the man. “Hey, Morgan. Come on in.”
A man probably in his thirties, taller than Red by at least two inches but definitely lankier, stepped forward. Long legs carried him in a few steps to Peyton’s side. His shirt was new looking, though dusty. And he wore a pair of glasses that looked smudged with dirt.
And he was vaguely familiar, though Red struggled to nail down where he’d seen him before.
“Oh my Lord, you’re a mess.” Peyton laughed and reached up for his face. The man clearly knew what she was up to, because he bent over enough to give her access. Plucking the glasses off his face, she patted his cheek and started cleaning the lenses off with the corner of her shirt. As she lifted the material up, Red got a glimpse of smooth skin and a hint of rib before she let the cotton go to hand the glasses back.
“Thanks. Thought it looked a little darker today than it should have.” He finally—finally—noticed Red standing there like an idiot and held out a hand. “Morgan Browning.”
Ah. Now it clicked. One of the area’s large breed vets. And apparently, close personal friend of Peyton Muldoon’s. “Red Callahan.” He shook, feeling like a third wheel and hating the way Peyton smiled at the man. And feeling five kinds of fool that he hated it at all.
“Horse trainer, right? I thought you were over at Three Trees now.” Morgan stuffed his hands in his pockets, smiling easily.
“Finished up there. Now I’m here. With Peyton,” he added, for no reason at all.
“He’s M-Star’s trainer now,” she clarified when Morgan gave her a confused look. To Red, she added, “Morgan’s our vet, so you’ll likely get to see him around often enough.”
“Convenient for all, since I just live down the way.”
“With your parents,” she put in with a laugh.
He scowled at her. “Why do you always have to put it like that? I’m not living in their basement with my mom doing my laundry, thank you very much. I just live on the property. I built my own house on a corner, away from the main house,” he explained to Red.
Red nodded, though it didn’t matter much to him one way or another. Long as Morgan knew his job and Red could trust the guy with the animals, didn’t matter if he lived in a van off the highway. Though the distance was a convenience, to be sure.
“Wait, we didn’t have an appointment. What had you stopping by?” Peyton asked.
“Came over to see Trace. Bastard called me, said he’s been around for days and he just now lets me know.”
“He’s been a little busy,” Peyton said sardonically.
“Sure has. Cute kid he’s got.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I lucked out with an adorable nephew.”
Nephew. The kid wasn’t hers, but Trace’s. Interesting. Not that it mattered . . .
Oh hell, it mattered. It all mattered with Peyton. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid by not taking the job in the first damn place. Lusting after your boss was an easy way to kill your job, and your reputation.
Time to pull his head out and get started on work.
“If you two don’t mind, I’m going to head over to the office and get started on figuring out the filing system, getting things in order, that sort of thing.”
Peyton nodded. “Sounds good. Remember to stop by the office for your key later. If I’m not there, I’ll leave it with Emma.”
He waved good-bye and headed back for the arena and his own office. Something had to cut through the edge of this lust fast. And paperwork was a surefire way to dull his senses, inside and out.
Chapter Five
P
eyton watched as Red sauntered out of the barn and toward the training arena where his office was attached. And yeah, sauntered was the only way to describe how he walked. Deceptively easy, as if he didn’t have a care in the world and no purpose. But she knew better.
“So that’s the new trainer.”
“Yup. Like you didn’t already know that. Word travels around here too fast for you not to have heard.”
“Maybe,” he hedged.
She nudged Morgan with her knee, moving the conversation from owner-vet to friend-friend. “What’s up with you?”
“Same old, same old. Mom says hi.”
She smiled. “I’m gonna have to pop on over there again soon for some more of your mom’s pie.”
He groaned. “You keep doing that and my mom is going to have worse ideas about us than she already does.”
She laughed, amused at the thought of making his life miserable. “Your mom loves you and wants you to settle down with a nice young lady.”
“So why she wants me to marry you, God only knows,” he shot back.
“I’m convenient and in her line of vision. She’ll see it eventually. I’m not for you. You’re not for me.”
“Too damn bad that never clicked, huh?” He reached out and gave her a brotherly tug on one of her braids. “Convenience factor is through the roof.”
Swatting his hand away, she rolled her eyes. “Convenience. Just what every woman is dying to hear.”
“You gonna tell me the whole story about hiring Red there?”
With a shrug, she started over toward the stables. Pausing to shut the barn door, she said, “He’s our new trainer. We need help. And he’s got the reputation to bring people running. Nothing more to it.”
After watching her struggle for a moment, Morgan sighed and reached over her shoulder to yank the door. Once started, she was able to slide it shut on her own.
“I thought he never stayed in one place long enough to be associated with one particular outfit. Just a problem fixer and a roamer.”
“Maybe I offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse.” They both knew that was a lie. She hooked an arm through his and tugged him along. “You little snake. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”
He grinned. “You don’t even wanna know.”
“True enough.”
His expression grew serious and he hugged her closer. “Just be careful. I’m sure he’s a good guy and all. Never heard a bad word about him. But, you know. I’m sorta fond of you.”
“Convenience,” she sang mockingly.
“Like a sister,” he added with a pinch to her ribs. She shrieked and jumped out of arm’s reach. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Financially, or any other way.”
“There’s no risk here. He’s got the goods.” No need to mention she’d be counting the goods he packaged in sexy denim in that mix. “He can deliver. So we’re using his name and riding it. It’s mutually beneficial. Maybe he’s ready to settle down for a while.”
“Hmm.” Far from sounding convinced, Morgan fell back in step with her.
“While you’re here, you mind checking on a colt?”
“You’re just using me for my medical bag,” he said, his fake pout making him look like an adorable little boy rather than a grown man.
“You bet. I’m a user, baby. Now go get your sexy black bag from your truck. I know you have it with you. I’ll meet you in the stall.”
With a push, he laughed and loped off easily, long legs carrying him over the distance of the yard with a speed she could only envy.
Being short was so annoying.
More annoying was the fact that she’d missed walking to the stables with Red. After having him around all morning, she was used to his questions, his comments. His presence. Not just annoying, but stupid. She had zero right to get attached to the man like that. It was business between them and nothing more.
A woman in a man’s world didn’t have room for flings with coworkers. It never ended well. And if the word got out, nobody would take her seriously. Already she had her youth and the ranch’s current reputation against her. Personal issues couldn’t be added. There was no margin for error anymore.
As she stepped into the stable and saw a number of fuzzy heads pop out over their stall doors to greet her, she knew she’d do almost anything to keep their family ranch afloat.
 
Just before dawn was his favorite time of day. When things were quiet, people were still asleep, and only the animals could hear him. The air was cooler, sweeter almost, as if the lack of activity kept it pure, and the soft light from the rising sun made everything look a little more romantic.
Not that he was about to admit any of that. A poet, he was not. But as Red dressed for the day, he knew it didn’t take a poet to appreciate the fact that he all but had the entire ranch to himself. Which was why he was always up early. Partly to have the day to himself. Some people needed coffee to get their day started right. He just needed a few minutes of quiet.
Of course, since it was his first full day at M-Star, he wouldn’t mind the time alone to get his feet under him, either.
But, to his shock, as he headed to the stables, he realized he wasn’t the only one up that morning. Not by a long shot. The stables buzzed with activity. The day workers were already bringing feed and water to the horses. Two were being led to the hot walk ring.
In the barn, he found the man named Tiny, a man likely in his late forties and starting to develop the middle age spread around his waist, brushing a mare, crooning to her like she was a lover he wanted to coax back into bed rather than a seven-hundred pound temperamental horse trying to take a chunk out of his butt for his trouble.
“Now, sweetheart, you know it feels good,” he said, his voice still gravelly with sleep. “Why do we gotta go through this every morning?”
Red leaned against the outer stall post and watched as his competent hands worked quickly, efficiently, getting the job done while nimbly avoiding the snipping teeth.
“Got your hands full,” he commented idly when Tiny caught sight of him from the corner of his eye.
“She’s got fight in ’er. But I’ve always been partial to the ones with fight.” Tiny smiled and patted the mare’s neck, jerking his hand away a second before teeth clipped where it had just been. “Destiny here’s one of our best breeders. Puts out the feisty fillies and the arrogant colts.”
She wasn’t much of a looker as far as coloring went, but Red could always see past that. Sometimes the sheer spirit of a horse mattered most.
“People always up and around this early?”
“Mostly. Work goes in shifts. You got the few of us up here now, getting the day started. Few more show up in a couple hours, then we’re off and the latecomers stay through the day.”
“You like working for M-Star?”
Tiny gave him the side eye. “This an interview?”
“Not at all. Trying to get a feel for things.”
Tiny was quiet for a moment, the only sound the shuffling of the horse’s hooves in the hay and the brush smoothing over her flanks. “Working for Peyton’s mama was a hell of its own kind, for just about everyone. But her daddy was always a good man, good to the staff, though I think he had more heart than business sense. The horses were his life. The books, not so much.”
It jived with everything else he’d heard about the ranch.
“I like working for Peyton. Kid’s nearly half my age and knows what she’s doing. Got ideas to expand, wants to make this place a real draw. Not just survive.”
Red nodded. “I’m just gonna observe, find the rhythm for the day.” He wasn’t asking permission, but smiled when Tiny nodded and went back to cooing at his four-legged female companion.
Three hours later, he made his way to his office, having developed a sense of how things were run. A few things he would change. But the basic flow was something he appreciated. What he appreciated even more was that he continually caught glimpses of Peyton from the corner of his eye. Walking this way, talking to that hand, checking on a horse or slipping treats when she thought nobody was watching. An owner in the middle of things, not just sitting on her throne away from the dirty work.
Heading back to his office, he flipped through the books, comparing the figures from several years ago, the trainer before Nylen, and then all of Nylen’s records. And one glaring inconsistency popped out, over and over again.
“Damn.” The man had been systematically skimming from the feed fund. It wasn’t the first time Red had seen it. But to this level . . . another story entirely. Anyone who took five minutes to double check his records would have seen this. The arrogant bastard hadn’t even bothered to do more than a half-assed job hiding it.
A knock at the open door had him looking up. Peyton stood at the threshold, waiting for him to ask her in, a small smile tilting her lips.
Damn. Again. She looked fresh and flustered all at once. Her face was free of makeup, hair in those pigtail braids that fit under her hat. But she was dusty, and had a smear of dirt over one cheek, like she’d wiped at her face with her sleeve and only made the problem worse.
And if she were any other woman, and he were any other man, he’d jerk her inside, slam the door shut, and give himself a lunch hour to remember.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Please leave the door open. I can’t handle the temptation.
As if reading his mind, she did. She propped one hip on the corner of his desk, completely unaware that it put her very delicious looking ass within touching distance. He balled one fist against his thigh and kept his voice light. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to make sure you were settling in okay. That the guys were all treating you well enough, being helpful.”
The lightness of her voice caught him off guard. It was as if she was determined to play nice. He could get behind that game plan. “I do have one question, actually. Did anyone ever check over Nylen’s books while he was around?”
Her easygoing smile faded and her mouth set in a hard, grim line. “No. Not that I know of. I asked once or twice to check, but I was denied.”
“And you let him get away with that?” he asked, then immediately regretted it when fire flashed in her eyes. “You’re the owner.”
“Now, I am. Until two months ago, I had no authority on this place. It was the Sylvia Muldoon show, nonstop.” She stood quickly, the rickety desk shifting a little under her push off. “I asked, he said no. He kept the door locked when he wasn’t around. And my mother was sleeping with the jackass, so she wasn’t exactly much help either.”
That was news.
She laughed at his wide-eyed surprise. “Right. That one hasn’t made the rounds yet, and I doubt many would be suspicious, since Nylen wasn’t really up to my mom’s usual standard. But apparently Mama was desperate. Or maybe he was passing out kickbacks on what he skimmed.” She nodded. “Yeah, I knew. Or suspected anyway. But without the books, no way to know for sure. Plus, what was I going to do about it? Not my ranch, legally. Once my mother was gone, I managed to get the key and came in here to look. Found the proof I needed, told him to get his sorry ass out of town.”
He settled back, trying to quickly make sense of the whole thing. “Why not involve the police?”
“I just wanted him gone.”
“It’s not too late.” He lifted the book in his hand. “You report him, and we might at least get some of this money back.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And risk having the word out there? It already looks bad enough he left so quickly. I don’t need more negative press. We’re struggling to rise from the ashes as it is.” Leaning over, she placed her palms on the desk and closed in until she was inches from his face. “Before my mother died, I was blocked from every opportunity to make this place better. Now that she’s gone, I still don’t have full authority, thanks to my two siblings. But I did my best then. And I’m doing my best now.”
With that parting shot, she stood and walked out, shutting the door behind her.
Oddly, the action was not nearly as erotic when she was on the other side of it.
And hell, he’d just screwed that one to Kansas and back. She was still touchy on the subject, and he couldn’t blame her. She’d see it as the ultimate slap in the face that someone was stealing out from under her nose and she had no control over it. He hadn’t meant to accuse, just to get a handle on how it’d gone on for so long. But it was obviously still a raw wound. And knowing he’d inadvertently poured salt into that wound tore at his gut in ways he didn’t quite understand.
Time to make amends.
 
Peyton let Lilly Mae’s graying nose snuffle under her arm in search of more treats even though it tickled. Wrapping her arms around the old horse’s neck, she breathed in the familiar scent of horse and hay and feed and instantly felt her heart rate drop from its formerly racing status.
“Big mistake,” she muttered into the horse’s mane. “I let him get to me. Lost my cool. Stupid.”
BOOK: Taking the Reins (Roped and Wrangled)
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