He was hanging up his tack, staring at it like he was memorizing the placement on the peg board and table where he settled all the equipment. “Problem, Trace?” He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Just giving everything a once-over. I like to see if elves have moved anything overnight.” “Elves?” Morgan glanced at his friend in the dim light. “Been drinking already?” Trace laughed and shook his head again. “Nah.” With a brush of his hands on the thighs of his jeans, he turned and smiled. “So, what’s up? It’s not normal rotation day. Peyton call you out?” “Nope. Stopped by to talk to you, actually.” “Okay. Shoot.” Trace led the way out of the equipment area and into the long row of stalls. Equine heads poked out over several stalls to say hello, and the men stopped to give a rub or a quick word of hello to each one. “I’m going to be dating your sister.” Trace stopped short, hand frozen over a sweet mare’s forelock. “I think you should talk to Red about that one, since I’m pretty damn sure he’s gonna have—”
