Once a Rancher (15 page)

“Essentially. He has a distinct personality and, like I said, he's important to Ryder.”

“I need to snap you up before Drake figures out how you feel about animals. Will you marry me?”

Her eyes went wide. Maybe he had the same shocked expression. As if he'd departed reality and flown off into an alternate dimension, flapping wings and all.

He'd just proposed?

Maybe he'd done exactly that. He was stunned, but then again he wasn't. This had been coming since the moment she'd dragged Ryder into his office.

“You don't mean it.” Grace lost interest in her salad. She didn't look at him, but turned and stared over the balcony railing. “Slater, please tell me you aren't serious.”

He studied the fall of her red-gold hair. Her profile. The enticing silhouette of her body. “I
could
be serious,” he admitted hoarsely. “I'm not going to say I planned this, but you've been in love before and I haven't. Not really. How does it work? Have I done everything wrong? I need a crash course right now.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “You
aren't
in love with me.”

“To be honest, I wish that was true, because my life would be simpler that way, but I'm starting to worry you're wrong.”

She made a moaning sound and rested her forehead on her clenched hands. “No.”

“That's bad?” He was unwillingly amused.

“Very bad.”

“Should I apologize for falling in love with you?”

She raised her head. “Slater, shut up, please. I had a terrible morning. Now you're telling me you think you're proposing? We
can't
get married.”

He could hear the panic in her voice. “Why not?” he asked calmly.

The idea was growing on him. It was like hitting a ball off the first tee. As he'd told her, he really hadn't planned it, and he had no idea how high and far the ball would fly, but he'd made the swing. This wasn't the first time it had occurred to him, although he probably should've had a spray of roses in his hand and a ring in his pocket. However, he'd done it now—even if he hadn't done it well. “Because...because you have a daughter.”

“So? She's wonderful. You have a son. We'd make an unusual blended family, since I was never married to Daisy's mother and you aren't Ryder's biological parent, but those are two really nice kids. I wouldn't mind having a few more.”

That left her staring at him. “You don't do anything halfway, do you? Marriage and babies in the same conversation?”

“I think we both agree that making babies wouldn't exactly be a chore. We're already lovers.”

“One night does not make us lovers. And for the record,
lovers
is an archaic term only used in historical romance novels, along with smelling salts and perfectly tied cravats.”

“Tell me you didn't wish I was in your bed last night, making passionate love to you, instead of on the couch.”

That scored a hit. A flush rose to her face. “Of all the arrogant, conceited—”

“Tell me.”

If there was one thing he'd discovered quickly, it was that Grace didn't lie. She just avoided the question.

“I have a good relationship with your son. I bet he'd be pretty supportive,” he said persuasively.

“I don't have a—” She stopped, then said quietly, “All right, I do. I have a son. He's certainly more mine than Hank's. And speaking of Hank, you do remember my little speech the other morning, right?”

Slater took another bite of chicken, because it was delicious and he was hungry, and he needed to think before he spoke again. Finally, he nodded. “I understand you don't want to make another mistake,” he said. “Do you really feel it would be?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
HERE
WERE
SOME
moments that were going to be embedded in her memory forever, and this was one of them.

Shrimp salad, her little balcony and Slater Carson proposing out of the blue with dust on his shirt, while munching on his Chicken Creole. They might have a chemistry she couldn't deny, but they didn't know each other very well.

Okay, maybe that wasn't entirely accurate. They knew each other's bodies intimately, she'd met his family, she'd stayed at his home, he'd stayed at hers and Ryder had accepted him in their lives with atypical teenage enthusiasm. He was an intelligent man whose actions revealed decency toward others and staunch loyalty.

Only a fool would refuse him.

On the other hand, he was used to running the show—literally—and so was she. She felt almost certain that his self-assurance and hers were going to clash, and this particular moment was an example of that. Yes, it was memorable—but not for the usual reasons. He'd proposed to her, or so it seemed. Impulsively. On a whim.

No bended knee.

No glittering diamond.

No flowery words.

She didn't care about any of that, since she'd had it once and hadn't exactly ended up with starry-eyed happiness, but still... Slater had just
assumed
she'd say yes. She doubted he'd given it a minute's thought until now. He was simply so used to getting what he wanted. “You didn't
mean
to ask. Did you?”

He settled his elbows on the glass table. “Grace, you keep telling me what I meant to do and not do. I'd prefer if you just considered the question.”

This time, he didn't interrupt her. He sat there calmly, watching whatever emotions were flitting across her face—elation and dismay, confidence and uncertainty, reckless joy counteracted by the knowledge that she needed to stay steady, to bear in mind that rash decisions were the enemy of happiness.

When she still hadn't spoken, he finally said, “We don't have to rush the engagement.” His voice was mild. “My mother will want time to plan the wedding, anyway.”

Grace threw her napkin at him. “She's
not
planning our wedding.”

His eyes were alive as he caught it in a swift reflexive movement. “Is that a yes? You just said
our
wedding
.”

She had. No one was more surprised than she was, and Slater had an unfortunate way of doing that to her—getting her to blurt out things she hadn't intended to say. “The sentiment I wanted to convey was that although I think your mother is delightful, if we
were
to plan a wedding, I doubt I'd ask her to do it for me.”

He looked at her, the laughter still sparking in his eyes. “If this was the olden days, I'd give you twenty-four hours to meet me in the middle of the street, come hell or high water, with your answer.”

“That's for gunslingers, not men and women.”

“Feels like the same kind of decision to me.”

True. Sort of. They weren't talking life or death—like a gunslingers' battle in one of those old Westerns. They were talking life or...a better life.

And yet, there were more reasons
not
to marry him than to go ahead and do it.

The worst of it, she thought in despair, was that she was in love with him, too. She felt as if she was tumbling down a mountain slope unchecked, a canyon yawning at the bottom. “If you want someone who could gun you down, Carson, you're looking at her. And really?
The olden days?
I hate to break it to you, but you aren't in grade school anymore.”

His smile was engaging. “True enough, but I hang out with someone who is, and that's one of her favorite expressions. Of course, Daisy's usually referring to
my
youth. I once mentioned riding the school bus, and she looked at me as if she didn't quite believe there were gas-powered vehicles back then. In light of my extreme age, I can't wait around forever. Unless you want some sort of elaborate event, we could just elope and have a reception at the ranch later.”

“Slater!”

“Just thinking out loud.” He looked absolutely unrepentant, lounging in his chair with masculine grace, that faint grin telling her that now he'd made up his mind, he wasn't giving up easily. With an almost desperate firmness, she said, “I don't
want
to get married again.”

The grin faded as he searched her face. “Wouldn't it be more accurate to say you don't want to get divorced again? I'm not asking you to change your life, Grace. I just want to share it.”

Unfortunately for her, that was exactly the right thing to say. She pushed her salad away. Then she massaged her temples. “This is turning into a very complicated day.”

A minute later she discovered that was one heck of an understatement.

“Grace?” Meg stepped into her office and spotted them on the balcony. “Oh, sorry, but...well...you have a visitor. He said you're expecting him.”

What now?

When her ex-husband walked through the door and onto her balcony, she had to stifle a bubble of hysterical laughter. Somewhere, Fate was chortling, probably hooting it up, as the infamous Red would say. Slater took in her expression, the military uniform on the man coming toward them and came to the correct conclusion in a split second. He rose to his feet, and she noticed that they were almost precisely the same height. Evidently, she liked tall men. Hank spoke first, eyeing her companion. “Hello, Grace. I tried your cell, but just got your voice mail. Then I went to the condo. When no one answered the door, I came here.”

“Hi, Hank. Sorry, I had a busy morning. This is Slater Carson. Slater, Hank Emery.”

“I gathered that,” Slater said, getting up to extend his hand. “Very nice to meet Ryder's dad. He's a good kid.”

She could see that Hank, too, was drawing the correct conclusion and not liking it, but he was cordial enough as they shook hands. “Mr. Carson. Ryder mentioned you on the phone. Said he has a job on your family ranch. That was kind of you. He seems to like it.”

“I doubt he likes it when he has to shovel out horse stalls, but he's doing a fine job.” Slater turned to Grace with a meaningful look. “I'm headed back to the basement and my new treasure trove. I'll give Meg the keys when I'm done. Talk to you later?”

Great. He didn't seem any happier than Hank did.
What bad thing have I done in a former life to bring me this particular day?

She'd agree to just about anything to escape this awkwardness. “I'll call you.”

He left, and then she was stuck there, alone with her ex-husband, who sent her a glance that should have been conciliatory, but wasn't. “It's good to see you, Grace. You look beautiful, but then you always do.”

He looked well, fit as ever, sporting a tan that wasn't from a beach somewhere. It enhanced his chiseled features, and the uniform didn't hurt. The problem was that living with him had been an adventure in frustration, so
older and wiser
definitely applied. “Thanks. Let me give you the entry code to the condo. Just make yourself at home. Ryder has to work, but I'll pick him up early.”

“It's good to see you, too,” he said with unmistakable sarcasm.

He was right; she should be civil, but her world was completely out of alignment. She took a steadying breath and walked past him to her desk. “I had a stressful morning, so my apologies if I sounded brusque. Ryder might not act like it, but he's very excited to see you.” She jotted down the numbers. “This will open the garage, and the door to the inside is unlocked. Like I said, make yourself at home.”

“You don't mind me staying there?”

She needed to answer that question carefully. Meeting his eyes, she said, “Ryder wants you there. So I don't mind for his sake. I guess it's kind of unusual, but then our whole situation is unusual. How's your mother doing, anyway? I haven't talked to your dad in a couple of days.”

“The chemo is a bear, of course. She's pretty sick.” He hesitated. “Thanks for taking on Ryder.”

Here was the part where he should apologize for never being around. Surely at his rank, he could request different duty. The government wasn't insensitive to the fact that military personnel had families. He just wouldn't think of doing it.

No, worse, it wouldn't even occur to him.

She said simply, “I love Ryder. We're figuring a few things out, but Slater's right. He's a good kid. I hope the two of you spend a lot of time together.”

Hank might be insensitive, although he was hardly stupid. “I'd consider that unsolicited advice, but I get it, Officer Emery. I assume I'm going to be seeing Carson fairly often during this visit.”

She wasn't interested in an argument, plus a single glance at the cell phone she'd ignored all morning showed a long list of missed messages, two of which she actually welcomed. “See you at the condo later. I have an errand to run. Please excuse me.”

She practically sprinted out of the resort, wondering if she should leave Hank and Slater in the same building, but decided it was their problem, not hers.

Her car, delivered as promised, was sitting in the resort parking lot, all the tires inflated and the scratch repaired. She grabbed the extra set of keys from her purse, unlocked it and jumped in, eager to get the hell out of Dodge.

A discarded husband and a potential husband in the same building—that state of affairs was probably about as stable as two hand grenades with the pins pulled. At the moment Grace didn't care. The new quilt she'd ordered on one of her shopping trips was ready to be picked up. When she'd stopped by the shop in Mustang Creek, she'd loved the designs but had specific colors in mind, so she'd ordered a custom quilt.

On a day like today, she needed to do something nice for herself.

A bell sounded when she opened the door to the quilt shop. She saw two toddlers sitting on a blanket, arguing over toys, babbling in baby talk with the occasional recognizable word tossed in.
Mine
seemed to win the day. A pretty blonde leaned on the counter; the owner was chatting with her, but smiled in recognition when Grace came in. Grace knew that her husband, Tripp, was the friend of Slater's who'd flown Ryder to the football game. Hadleigh Galloway said graciously, “Hi, Grace. Glad you got my message. That was quick. This is Melody Hogan, by the way.”

That was a familiar name. “Is Spencer Hogan your husband, by any chance?”

The blonde nodded, her gaze curious. “He sure is.”

“I need to talk to him.”

Both women looked at her and their brows rose a fraction.

“Not right now. Sorry, but I'm tired of the male of our species,” she explained. “For today, anyway. Even if I occasionally need their help.”

The other two women exchanged a grin. “Oh, we get that,” Hadleigh said. “Want a cup of tea? We can sit down and talk about your man problems.”

* * *

S
LATER
JUST
PLAIN
didn't want to discuss it.

That was a hope born to be dashed.

The second he walked through the door late that afternoon, he ran into his mother in the hallway, which made him suspect she'd been hovering there, waiting for him.

Blythe Carson only hovered for one reason. She wanted answers. “Is Grace okay?”

Slater figured there were probably cobwebs in his hair, so maybe his spider joke wasn't so funny anymore. He put down the box of pictures he wanted to start with and sighed in exhaustion, picturing Grace with her ex-husband, who didn't have cobwebs in his hair but instead looked like the classically dashing war hero, with insignias and whatever all across his uniform jacket. Then his heart froze when he thought about her vindictive ex-employee. “She's fine last I knew, and I saw her a few hours ago. Why? Has something happened?”

His mother instantly shook her head. “No, not that I know of, so wipe that alarmed expression off your face. But Ryder looked a little wound up when he came to the house.”

Slater consciously relaxed his shoulders. His mother didn't need to know about David Reinhart. “His father just arrived in Mustang Creek,” he said. “I met him. He seems okay, but Ryder's going to have to adjust to his presence here, and of course, Grace isn't all that comfortable with it, either. There are some complicated emotions involved.”

His mother propped her hip on the table in the hallway and folded her arms. “Hmm, and how many of those emotions involve Slater Carson? And since we're on the subject of emotions—how are
his
emotions moseying along when it comes to the lovely Ms. Emery?”

“My emotions are just fine.” Not exactly true. Her handsome ex-husband had clearly identified him as competition, and the man was going to be living with her for a month.

“You wouldn't tell me if they weren't, anyway.” His mother's voice was resigned.

Well, that
was
true. “I'd be reluctant to,” he acquiesced. “You'd try to fix every little thing. I'm afraid to ask, but can you tell me why we're having this conversation?”

“Mace and Drake have a bet going about when you're going to propose to Grace, and I got in on the action.”

If she hadn't winked at him, he might have stomped off and throttled his brothers in front of witnesses. “You all think you're so hilarious. For the record, I have no intention of proposing in the future.”

Not a lie. He already had.

“What did she say?”

He forgot his mother was the most insightful person he'd ever known. Slater gave up. “She's thinking it over. Mom, she's divorced, I didn't plan it properly and her ex-husband walked in on the big moment. I'm not sure of anything right now, but I
am
sure that if Drake and Mace don't stop these bets, the three of us are going to tangle.”