Once a Rancher (10 page)

“Fine night.”

He hadn't realized Mace was there, lounging in a chair, feet propped up. His brother tipped back a beer and grinned. “Tell me, in order of importance, how was your delicious redhead, and then how was the wine?”

Slater wasn't convinced that Grace was
his
in any way. One kiss hardly sealed the deal. “It was a good evening and good wine.” He rubbed his jaw. “What is it with this family and probing questions?”

“The redhead is personal, the wine is research. As the creator, I
want
it to be good, so I'm not impartial. Was it? Honestly?”

“It really was. Grace is going to suggest it to her staff for the wine list.”

Mace pushed to his feet and ran his hand through his hair in evident—and amusing—relief. “You're sure she liked it?”

“Hell yes, I'm sure,” Slater said, inwardly laughing. “You think I'd make that up? When did you develop all this insecurity, brother? The wine was excellent and Grace loved it.”

His brother turned away for a minute and then audibly exhaled. “I've been busting my ass trying to make this vineyard a going concern. Every success takes me one step closer. I tossed the dice on not oaking that chard. Everyone told me people pick up a chardonnay and expect that certain taste.”

Slater rested his elbows on the rail. “Here's a thought. Ask Grace to let you host tasting parties at the resort. Maybe offer to print a wine list that features Mountain Wines. Raine could do some fantastic graphics. You'd be giving some of it away for free, but the publicity would be worth it.”

Mace's eyes gleamed in the starlight. “I'm game. You care to run the idea by her? I reckon you've got some influence.”

“I'd like to think so.” Slater shook his head. “But I can't promise I do. That is one very independent female. She doesn't need me. She doesn't need the Carson legacy. She doesn't need anyone but herself. Her assistant suggested she might be interested in wine-tasting tours here for their guests, so the rest is up to the two of you.”

As usual, Mace broke everything down to its basics. “You might
think
she doesn't need anything, but we all need something. Plants need soil, sunlight, nutrients, rainfall... Human beings need family, friends, shelter, food, and maybe I've been around Mom a few years too long, but love is a good thing, too.”

“Ever been?” Slater shot his youngest brother a questioning look.

“In love? Nope. Still waiting for her. Like a fine wine, you can't rush it. You?”

He took in a deep lungful of clean air and considered his answer. “I'm in love with this place, with the spirit of it. I felt a certain kind of love with Raine, but we were both finding our way around life then, trying to make sense of things. We can agree on one matter, anyway—we both love Daisy.”

“That's obvious to everyone, and it's also obvious that if you were meant to be with Raine, you would've moved heaven and earth to make it happen. Is Grace Emery a possibility?”

Was she? He was interested in her sexually; that was undeniable. Just the sight of her bare feet had turned him on big-time, so what would the bare rest of her do to him? He'd give a lot to find out. “That's way too profound a question this early on. She and I hardly know each other.”

“I thought love was a little like being struck by lightning,” Mace said.

Slater recalled the evening Grace had stalked into his office, dragging Ryder with her, furious and determined to set things straight. If that was lightning, it was heat lightning, and it
was
like being hit and hit hard.

“Could be,” he commented lightly.

“Slate,” his younger brother said sagely, “I'm gonna tell you what your problem is. It's always been your problem.”

Hell, he couldn't wait to hear this. Criticism wasn't his favorite thing, and no good comment ever followed
always been your problem
.

“Like what?”

“Of the three of us, you're the true Romeo.” Mace held up his hand, palm forward. “Shut up and let me finish, because I know you're going to argue, but it's true. Drake and I want the same things you do, but we're more grounded. We deal with plants, horses, cattle—the weather today, not a hundred years ago... We're not re-creating the past.”

“Documenting the past,” he corrected.

Mace laughed quietly. “Okay, you win that one, but you aren't off the hook. For lack of a better way to put it, although this sounds like Valentine card drivel, you have a romantic soul. That's why history interests you so much.”

“Shouldn't I be lying on a couch in your office, Dr. Carson? Let's leave my soul, romantic or otherwise, out of this discussion.” He shrugged. “Grace is beautiful and smart. I know for a fact that I'm not the only man who finds her attractive. Let's see what happens. We both have a lot going on right now. For one thing, her ex-husband is coming to see Ryder and wants to stay with them. She didn't seem all that thrilled about it.”

Mace gave him a speculative look. “You don't, either.”

“No comment.”

Just then Drake appeared, walking up the shadowed path to the house, his shoulders slumped with weariness, two of the herding dogs, a large German shepherd named Harold, and his slightly smaller female counterpart, Violet, trotting behind him. His clothes were dusty, and when he took off his hat as he climbed the steps, there was a smear of dirt across his forehead. As he reached the porch, a long distant howl rose in the background, answered almost immediately by another wolf.

Mace said sardonically, “Hey, Drake, I think they're singing you a lullaby.”

“I hear 'em. Luckily, I'm bone-tired so the happy reminder that they're out there, probably scouting our cattle, won't even keep me awake.”

The sound made the dogs restless, though. Slater put his hand on Violet's head and she calmed down, but Harold was on full alert, nose in the air, hackles up.

“They know what's going on out there.”

“Hell, yes. Those dogs know everything. Back to what's going on—how was your date?”

Slater had had enough and got to his feet. “This is the nosiest damn family in the world. I'm going to bed.”

“What's up with that?” Drake took his now-empty chair.

As Slater reached the door, he heard Mace say casually, “Don't mind him. He's the dictionary definition of a lovesick fool.”

Pure Drake, his brother retorted, “Like you'd recognize a dictionary if it bit you on the ass.”

Despite his annoyance, Slater had to laugh.
Let the games begin.
He'd be surprised if they weren't still sitting there arguing when he strolled out with his cup of coffee in the morning.

CHAPTER NINE

H
ER
TIRE
WAS
FLAT
.

Not a big deal, Grace acknowledged as she walked slowly to her personal parking space, except this was the second one in two days—and it wasn't the same tire.

David Reinhart was her first suspect, especially when she saw the jagged scratch on the door of her sporty SUV.

One giant letter.
B.

For
bitch
, of course. Very creative.

He'd picked up his last check that morning.

She was coldly furious. But her car was just an object. Maybe her time as a police officer had made her too aware that people were capable of some truly terrible things, so her first reaction was to pull up Slater's number from her contact list. To her relief he answered promptly. “Hi, Grace.”

“Is Ryder there, safe and sound?”

“As far as I know, yes. Want me to go out to the barn and check?”

“Yes, please.” She found it unsettling that her panic was so apparent, but he seemed to be tuned in to how she felt without her having to spell it out. “I'd appreciate that.”

“Call you right back.”

She phoned Meg as she started to walk to the house, asking her to get in touch with a tow company because the spare was already on, and the scratched paint would need to be fixed. It was convenient that she could walk back to the condo. If the weather held, she'd be fine for the next few days.

Just give her the good news that Ryder was safe, and then she could go ahead and get fighting mad, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Perhaps it was the result of working with some very brave men and women in law enforcement, and—although he had faults—being married to a man who considered risking his life for his country part of his daily routine, but she thoroughly despised cowards.

Destruction like this was the act of someone who didn't have the courage to face his victim. His
target
. Sounded way too much like David. Adding to her fear, he knew Ryder... All the staff did.

Her phone rang and she answered immediately, without even looking at the call display. “Slater?”

“He's here and he's fine. Mind telling me what's going on?”

She walked past the resort entrance, awash in relief, wondering how much to say. It was normal operating procedure to keep her problems to herself, but Slater had taken on responsibility for her stepson every afternoon. “Someone vandalized my car and I've had two flat tires this week. It's quite a leap from that to harming anyone, but people are unpredictable. Until I have a chance to talk to him, do me a favor and tell him not to go
anywhere
with
anyone
besides you or me.”

“You talking about the guy you fired?”

He was quick, wasn't he? She said flatly, “I have absolutely no proof, but that would be my guess.”

“I'll come and pick you up. You and Ryder can stay here at the ranch. We have plenty of guest rooms.”

“That's jumping the gun,” she said in exasperation. “And speaking of guns, I'm not only licensed to carry one, but I know how to use it. I can defend myself.”

“My mother's issued the decree that I should invite you to dinner, and tonight is as good a time as any. Besides, we can go for that relaxing evening ride I promised you. Ryder is really a natural. I bet he'd love to show off for you by saddling your horse.”

It sounded more tempting than spending the evening doing laundry and paying bills. She had the next day off, too, and for once, she might just take it. She could have balked at spending the night at the ranch, but that would mean Slater had to drive her home in addition to picking her up, and he was already being generous.

“It's last-minute. Are you sure?”

He said with conviction, “Positive. I'll be there in less than thirty minutes.”

If she'd wanted to object, there would've been no opportunity, because he pulled a Slater Carson and just ended the call. Grace looked at her phone and said out loud, “Seriously?”

But suddenly, she was looking forward to her evening.

After a quick survey, she walked briskly to her front door, went inside and swiftly locked it behind her. She was more nervous than she'd realized. She changed into jeans, a light ivory blouse with feminine ruffles at the elbow-length sleeves, then ran a comb through her hair. She thought about putting it up, but the minute she was dressed, her phone rang. It was someone from the tow company with a few questions, and by the time she was done, she heard the engine of an approaching vehicle.

Slater.

She was annoyed to find her pulse had suddenly picked up, but the physical reaction was undeniable. She'd shoved a few things into a bag during the call, so when he knocked she was ready and opened the door—only to be barreled backward as he stepped in and pushed her against the wall.

She looked into intense blue eyes and demanded, “What are you
doing
?”

Slater's hands were firm on her shoulders. “Checking to see how on guard you are. Come on, Grace. I could've been anyone. Don't just open the damn door.”

What she might have said was cut short because he kissed her just before she could knee him where it counted. He had maybe two seconds, tops.

The man moved like lightning.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, but she'd already come to the conclusion that he could read her easily and knew that she'd respond to his urgency. Grace kissed him right back—the attraction between them was spiraling out of control—and when they came up for air, he tantalizingly nuzzled the juncture between her neck and shoulder, murmuring, “I thought we needed to finish what we started the other night.”

She almost made the mistake of pointing out she didn't think they were finished at all, but she decided he didn't need the encouragement. With some effort Grace found her voice. “Uh, you just took care of that. Let me grab my bag.”

He, of course, immediately removed it from her hand. If nothing else, he was unfailingly courteous. As they walked out to the truck, Slater told her, “The chief of police is a friend of mine. I hope you don't mind that I gave Spence a call and told him I thought you were being harassed.”

Did she mind? She wasn't sure. It was presumptuous, but Slater didn't seem to be lacking in that department. However, it could be helpful if David—and she couldn't guarantee he was the culprit—took further action and she had to lodge a formal complaint. “I can't point a finger at anyone at this stage.”

“Hop in and let's forget about it for now.” He opened the door and deposited her bag on the backseat. “Worrying isn't on the agenda tonight. There's our horseback ride and a great dinner, including Harry's famous baked pork chops and her tomato tart. Also a dessert of some kind. I don't know what but it'll be fantastic.” He grinned. “A lifetime of experience goes into that statement.”

Grace got in and thought with a twinge of dismay that she'd be meeting two mothers this evening—Mrs. Slater and the famous Harry—and that would intimidate anyone.

Mustang Creek wasn't proving to be as peaceful as she'd anticipated.

* * *

G
RACE
E
MERY
SURE
could fill out a pair of faded jeans.

Slater had a feeling that “ladies first” was a selfish male ritual for a reason that had nothing to do with being polite. He didn't mind following her into the barn. Not at all.

Ryder was sweeping industriously, with enough straw stuck to his clothes that it looked as if he'd been digging into the job, exactly as required.

Slater had to admit he was impressed so far. Ryder did a good job of cleaning the stalls, but what impressed Slater was that the boy was still enthusiastic about it. It had been
his
first real job growing up, too, Red being a demanding boss to say the least, and he was cut no slack simply because he was a Carson. He and Drake and Mace had all quickly learned to do a superior job or else they either had a repeat performance in their future—or worse, had to take on someone else's chores and see his smug smile all afternoon. It had been a clever kind of motivation; the sense of competition among the three of them meant they tried to outdo each other, just like they did with anything else. The stable had damn tidy stalls during those years.

It wasn't looking too bad now, either. Ryder was already feeling relaxed with the horses, for someone just getting the hang of handling them. He was fourteen, and therefore ten feet tall and bulletproof. Horses were big animals; if you were skittish around them, they were the same way around you.

“Hey, Grace.” Ryder looked up with an uneasy expression on his face. “What's going on? Why'd you want to know if I was here? Why am I not supposed to go anywhere with anyone? I'm smarter than that, anyway!”

In the kid's voice, Slater could hear the underlying question.
Don't you trust me?
He hadn't explained because he wasn't sure how Grace wanted to handle it.

Grace was Grace, though, and that meant straightforward. “Someone vandalized my car. I have an idea who it might be, and I don't
think
he'd hurt you to get back at me. That doesn't mean I know for sure, so I want you to be careful.”

Her posture was perfect—spine straight, shoulders slightly back, eyes direct. But Slater could feel her tension, and he didn't blame her. She might've been a police officer. However, she was a woman on her own, responsible for a child. Unfortunately, if someone wanted to get at you badly enough, he or she could probably manage it. Her background no doubt made her very aware of how true that was.

He was absurdly proud of Ryder when he didn't scoff at Grace, but nodded and said, “I will,” his voice mature.

“You want to saddle up Jupiter for Grace?” he asked casually, trying to ease the mood. “I'll take care of Heck. You can ride out with Drake to check fences after dinner, since you're staying over. We could pick up your clothes or whatever later.”

“Yeah! Real cowboy stuff.” Ryder grinned. “That's what I'm talkin' about.”

The kid had been spending way too much time around Red, since that was one of his favorite expressions. Slater stifled a laugh and went to get his saddle. Heck was still far and gone too hard for a novice to handle, and he doubted the horse would calm down until he got a few more years on him.

They had the usual battle of wills, mostly because the horse was impatient to get moving. But having a saddle tossed on his back meant a good run, so Heck and Slater were getting used to each other and he wasn't nearly as fractious.

He did hand the reins to Ryder while he checked the girth on Grace's horse, and gave her a leg up. She settled into the saddle on the placid Jupiter—a mare his mother had always favored because of her good disposition and easy gait—and seemed to know what she was doing when she gathered up the reins.

He swung into the saddle, too, and they rode out into one of those evenings he loved, clear with a light cooling breeze, the air just ruffling Grace's bright hair. They didn't talk at first, but that was okay with him. The air smelled fresh and sweet as the horses walked along, side by side. Grace seemed comfortable, even composed. Finally, she said, “He likes it here. Thank you.”

“Thank the horses and cows.” Slater smiled lazily, trying to hide with a tight rein how much Heck wanted to run, testing his rider with every slow step. “I didn't do anything. Kids seem to find them really exciting.”

That did draw a smile. “I have a feeling it's a mistake to say this, but I think it's you. We've got some hero worship going on here.”

“I'm glad if he likes it on the ranch. Even when my parents completely ticked me off, I always did. At one time I thought I was the single most beleaguered teenage boy in the great American West. You have to keep in mind that I had Drake and Mace on my hands, so I was usually dealing with a small war in progress. They're only eleven months apart in age.”

“They don't get along?” She looked curious, and he was happy to see Jupiter moseying along in her usual calm manner.

“No.” He had to take a moment to reflect. “They're actually best friends. They just don't know it. They're grown men, and they haven't figured it out.”

“Too much alike?”

“You nailed it. They're both hardworking, intelligent, and would lay down their lives for someone they cared about, but let's not leave out pigheaded—and often about exactly the same things. We all fondly refer to it as the Carson way.”

Grace laughed. She looked particularly beautiful in the setting he liked most—the mountains in the background, a lowering sun spreading indigo light, their horses moving through the long grass, the breeze molding her light blouse to the curves of her breasts...

She caught the direction of his gaze and said tartly, “Carson, you are so obvious.”

“Just admiring the view. Pretty night, isn't it?” Nope, he wasn't going to apologize, and if she knew what he was thinking... Well, it wasn't hard to guess.

He could fall in love with her.

His conversation with Mace had made him think about a subject he tended to avoid. He wasn't opposed to permanence; it was just that he hadn't met anyone who inspired that kind of thought. Casual relationships were about enjoying the moment, about charming company and transient pleasure. He wanted to see this woman first thing in the morning
every
morning.

Or maybe he had. It was startling. Two kisses and a little heat lightning and he was considering the possibility? Couldn't be! Even with Raine, he'd never felt that kind of...intensity. That kind of certainty. “You were right.” Grace said the words quietly. “This is a perfect break from doing something every single minute of the day. I have a tendency to make myself as busy as possible.”