Free Taking the Reins (Roped and Wrangled) by Kat Murray Page 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