Once a Rancher (11 page)

Heck tossed his head restlessly despite the tight reins. “I have the same flaw,” Slater admitted, suddenly restless himself. “You up for a slightly faster pace? I think Heck here needs to work off some steam.”

Grace said with a straight face, “I think maybe you do, too.”

That was one intuitive woman.

“Maybe,” he muttered and loosened the reins. “Hold on, we're going for a ride.”

CHAPTER TEN

W
HEN
H
ECK
BOLTED
,
Slater was prepared and pulled him up immediately, making him settle into a reasonable pace, not a flat-out run. Grace saw that her companion handled the impatient bay so easily it seemed effortless, but she was well aware that there was skill involved. They made a striking pair silhouetted against the slanted light of the setting sun.

Her horse, Jupiter, followed; fortunately, he'd warned her and she was prepared, so she just decided to hang on because the last thing she wanted was to go sprawling in the dirt right before meeting his family, much less in front of him. She'd already cottoned on that Jupiter was going to obey Slater much more than she'd pay attention to Grace's tentative commands. That was confirmed when he barked out, “Slow up.”

The mare immediately checked her gait.

When both horses obeyed, she reflected wryly that it must feel good to have that kind of authority. She was impressed. Or maybe the horses were smarter than most human beings. That was entirely possible. Grace was just glad she didn't fall off and Jupiter was no longer like a torpedo being launched from a submarine.

They galloped across flat pasture, and she had to admit it was exhilarating, with the wind in her hair and the fluid motion of the horse, the air scented with pine and the perfume of crushed grass. Slater pulled up by a small stream so clear every pebble was visible, and her mount slowed to a reasonable walk. Slater gave her a grin of approval. “You did fine, Ms. Emery.”

“I'll have sore muscles tomorrow,” she predicted breathlessly. “Wow, look at that view. You can see the whole valley.” The place was picturesque, dotted with grazing cattle, the ranch itself far in the distance, the shadows lengthening.

Slater's eyes were shaded by his hat. “I used to come up here as a kid all the time just to be alone. The ranch is always busy, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Livestock don't believe in holidays. First thing I did when my father died was come up here to sit and try and make sense of it all. I don't know that it makes any more sense to me now than it did then, but it gave me some peace, anyway.”

“I'm sorry,” Grace said quietly.

“Me, too.” His voice was somber. “You get used to it but you don't get over it. I still miss him every single day. Tell me, what's the story with Ryder's mother?”

Grace sighed, their horses walking along the stream. “She'd already decided to divorce Hank, even though she was six months pregnant. He was out of the country, of course, and not available for deep, personal discussions, but his parents persuaded her not to put the baby up for adoption, which was what she wanted to do. They took Ryder home from the hospital, and his mother has never seen him since that day. When Hank and I got married, he came to live with us—which really means he came to live with me. To Hank's credit, since there were a lot of decisions being made for him, he accepted the situation. That said, I figured out pretty early that one of the reasons he married me was so Ryder would have a built-in parent.”

“I can think of quite a few other reasons he married you,” Slater said with flattering emphasis. “Don't sell yourself short.”

Ryder had been the hardest part of her decision to end a marriage she'd realized was going nowhere. Hank was very focused, just not on her or his son. She smiled briefly. “Thanks. Leaving Ryder with his grandparents again was really difficult for me. He's like a chessboard piece, being moved here and there, but not actually in the game. It really affects his sense of self-worth, and I'm doing my best to give him the emotional support he needs. Even though his grandparents adore him, they can't deal with a boy his age right now.”

“He's a good kid, but all teens need a gatekeeper. Daisy's turning eleven next week... Time sure is flying by. Next thing you know, I'll be buying her a car and we'll be picking out colleges. But I'm lucky. Raine is there for her.”

“No residual feelings? For Raine?” She asked it cautiously. He'd already said he and Raine had agreed they weren't right for each other, but that didn't mean he wasn't still involved emotionally.

“Raine is a friend. And friendship is worth a lot. I'm glad for Daisy's sake that it's worked out this way. I'll always have feelings for Raine, since she's the mother of my child. However, if I'm interpreting the nuances of your question correctly, I should explain they're not
those
types of feelings. My turn now. How about you and your ex? Any residual feelings there?”

The conversation sounded suspiciously as though they were testing the waters of romantic availability. Grace's impression was that when Slater Carson made up his mind about something, he moved forward as fast as possible and damn the torpedoes.

He wanted to sleep with her, and she'd entertained a fantasy or two involving him and a bed, with clothing tossed haphazardly all over the floor, but she wasn't at a stage in her life for anything serious in the way of relationships. And she'd never indulged in one-night stands or the emotional equivalent.

Inherent honesty made her say, “Hank and I aren't particularly friends, but we're not enemies, either. It wasn't an acrimonious divorce. I'd just come to the conclusion that the life I was living was how it was always going to be, which fell into the category of only on his terms. He's an attractive, intelligent, driven man, but regardless of whether it was his fault, or mine, I wasn't happy.”

Slater didn't immediately comment, sitting relaxed in the saddle, hands loose. Then he asked, “Did he even
try
to make you happy?”

Unfortunately, she was able to answer the question. “I doubt that he thought about it one way or the other.”

“Well, I can promise you this. I would definitely think about it.”

What the hell did that mean?

* * *

H
E
WAS
MOVING
too fast.

Making her problems his problem, thinking about her too much for his peace of mind, enjoying the sight of Grace at the dinner table with his family...

Promising—he'd used the word
promise
for heaven's sake—that he'd think about her happiness.

Maybe he should be annoyed with himself for saying that, but at the moment he was a lot more annoyed with Drake and Mace.

Shameless flirtation was a mild description of their behavior. Oh, they were needling him, but that wasn't unexpected.

What
was
unexpected was that it seemed to be working.

Drake wasn't a guy who tended to be gregarious and chat during dinner. Mace, though, was in rare form, flashing his smile, and while they usually butted heads like bighorn rams on a mountainside, his two brothers played off each other seamlessly. In fact, you'd think they'd rehearsed their little performance. Grace knew exactly what was going on, too, and damned if she didn't go right along with it.

The whole thing was designed to get under his skin. Although he wasn't entirely sure what
her
motivations were. The entertainment value? Or because...

He put up with it until just before dessert. When Mace, wearing his most innocent expression, suggested that the vineyard was particularly beautiful in the moonlight if she'd like to take a walk after dinner, Slater gave an audible snort of disgust. Ryder, who'd demolished his meal as if he hadn't eaten in ten years or so, looked up from his plate with a grin.

Grace said sweetly that she'd love to see it.

Drake went into a coughing fit, he was laughing so hard, and even their mother, the traitor, hid her smile, not very successfully, behind her napkin.

“
I'll
be happy to show her,” Slater informed his younger brother with a scowl that was only partially feigned. He was both amused by their antics and irritated that they bothered him when he knew full well they were only kidding around. “You two idiots can stop spoiling everyone's appetite by monopolizing the conversation.”

“Just trying to be pleasant,” Mace said, pretending to be affronted. “Jeez, Slate. We have a guest and you've barely said two words to her.”

“Because you've been babbling in her ear nonstop ever since we sat down.”

“You have,” Drake chimed in helpfully from across the table, as if he wasn't equally guilty.

“I was doing my best to spare you the embarrassment of saying something stupid,” Mace snapped at his brother.

“I think you might want to focus on your own conversational skills. There's definite room for improvement.”

Their mother murmured, looking at Grace, “Oh, here we go. I've been dealing with this for over thirty years. To think I encouraged them to learn how to talk.”

It became the usual Carson circus after that. Slater thought with resignation that dinner at the ranch was a trial by fire experience. Survive it once, and there should be a medal awarded.

At least dessert was delicious as usual, some concoction of baked apples with a light flaky crust topped by homemade vanilla ice cream with a hint of cinnamon. As predicted, Harry gave Ryder a double helping, beaming with approval as he scarfed it down so fast that Grace said to the table at large, “I swear I feed him. I really do.”

When she lifted her hand to brush a red-gold curl from her neck, he experienced a pang of hunger that had nothing to do with the meal.

He'd been trying all evening to keep his eyes off her but not succeeding. Everyone was aware of it, he was aware of it and she probably was, too.

Actually, a walk in the vineyard wasn't a bad idea. He was, as Tripp Galloway had once put it, a ranch kid, so strolling hand in hand through rows of grapevines wasn't his first thought when he entertained a pretty girl. He usually took her for a horseback ride instead. But it was a lovely evening, so why not take advantage of that? Slater certainly realized that Harry had outdone herself to impress Grace. His whole family seemed to be meddling, not that he was surprised. They all tended to weigh in on his life, although to be fair, that wasn't a one-sided arrangement. If he had advice for Drake or Mace, he spelled it out right then and there. They all worked that way. Up front and direct.

He was getting the signal that they approved of Grace.

Now, if she approved of
him
...

When they rose from the table, he automatically moved to clear the plates, as did Drake and Mace, a long-ingrained habit, and his mother and Ryder went off to the den to review his homework. Grace insisted on washing up whatever didn't go in the dishwasher, and he offered to dry, just so he could stand next to her.

Harry, supervising her domain with a sharp eye, gave Grace a knowing look. “Now, that's what I like to see. A big strong cowboy with a dishtowel in his hand. Slater Carson has never volunteered to dry dishes in his life.”

“Hey, I've done my share right here at this very sink,” he argued, but he kept his voice polite. Sassing Harry wasn't a mistake he'd made since he was about six years old.

Harry put her hands on her hips. “Yes, you have. Because I've always insisted you boys help out as a favor to your future wives. No man should ever think he's above scrubbing a pot when it needs doing. That isn't a woman's chore, it's a chore anyone with a pair of hands can do. I was pointing out that you never
volunteered
before now.”

That was no doubt true. Usually he and Drake and Mace vamoosed quickly after dinner, not to go sit around or goof off, but because the livestock needed to be checked, and one or another of them rode down to secure the main gate for the night.

Grace listened to the exchange with a faint smile, finishing up the last pan and handing it over. He took it, his return smile rather sheepish. “It's possible she could be right.”

“Hmph.
Possible?
” Harry went back into the dining room, no doubt to check everything was cleaned and tidied to her exacting standards.

Grace raised her brows. “I'm flattered you were trying to impress me.”

“Did it work?” He tried for an air of boyish hopefulness but had no idea if he'd achieved it.

“Maybe.” She dried her hands and frowned. “Are you sure I shouldn't sit in on Ryder's homework discussion?”

“Positive.” He could say that with conviction, and it had nothing to do with looking forward to their moonlight stroll. “My mother said he's doing better already, but she can tell he's worried he'll disappoint you. With her, he can simply listen to what she has to say and fix the problem, ask questions and so on, because he isn't nearly as concerned about what she thinks of him. With you, when he makes a mistake, he sees it as a failure.”

“I have
never
tried to make him feel like a failure.” Her expression reflected her dismay.

“Nope, I'm sure you've done just the opposite.” Slater was positive of that. “But think about it, Grace. You're the most important person in his life right now. In fact, you're the
only
important person in his life right now. You can drop in on Ryder and my mom if you want, but I'd leave it be. If there's one thing I can say for her, it's that she understands how the minds of young boys work.”

“She seems wonderful.”

“I'm not exactly impartial, but she is mighty special to all of us.” He took Grace's hand. “Unless you'd prefer either of my annoying brothers, I'd be happy to show you the vineyard by moonlight. Or the barn, a field full of cattle, the rusty skeleton of an old tractor my father insisted we keep because his grandfather gave it to him...”

She was laughing now, shaking her head. “As romantic as it sounds, I think I'll skip the scenic tractor tour. The vineyard will be lovely.”

Maybe he owed Mace one, for letting him do the honors by conducting the tour. Slater guided her toward the doorway. “I'm an excellent tour guide. You won't be disappointed.”