Once a Rancher (16 page)

She sent him a purely Carson triumphant smile. “I just won that round.”

“You have to be kidding me.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischievous laughter. “I see no reason why Drake and Mace shouldn't water my flowers for a week. I deserve a vacation. I suppose it's a teeny bit much that they have to wear my gardening hat while they do the watering, but I couldn't resist.”

Slater found that quite funny. He slid an arm around his mother's waist and squeezed gently. “If that doesn't cure them of gambling on my love life, nothing will. I'm going to take pictures of them in that big floppy hat.”

She hugged him back. “I'm so glad for you, darling. As soon as I saw the two of you together, I knew Grace was the one.”

“Yeah, well, let's see if she feels that way, too.” He said it with a touch of grimness. “She told me flat out she doesn't want to get married again. She meant it, too. And I see her point in a way. Her ex-husband was—and still is—away from home a lot, he's dedicated almost exclusively to his work and she's had to shoulder almost sole responsibility for his child, other than what he provides financially. Let's face it, she isn't going to get a much better deal with me. I even made the mistake of saying I want more kids. Grace is a bright woman, and I'm sure she instantly reminded herself that I'd be gone for months at a time, leaving her as the one and only parent all over again.”

He wanted to kick himself for mentioning more children, but he was just being honest with her. Better now than springing it on her once they were married. Yes, they'd have Daisy and Ryder, but to share a child...

Maybe Mace was right and he did have a romantic soul, whatever the hell that meant.

“Wanting a child is never wrong.” His mother supported him instantly, her tone full of conviction. “You're a wonderful father. Daisy adores you. For that matter, I think she and Ryder have formed the Slater Carson fan club. And may I point out that on this ranch, no one parents alone.”

With a rueful smile, he said, “I have no idea if Grace would even want to live on this ranch. We haven't talked about it. There's a lot to discuss, because I didn't think through the proposal. Talk about acting spontaneously.”

Jeez, that was true.

“Regrets?” His mother's gaze was assessing.

“No.” Crazy as it was, he didn't. It felt as if the minute he'd first seen Grace, something had snapped loose inside him. A taut wire had broken free. One he didn't know was there, holding him back from an important part of life he didn't realize he was missing.

He repeated, “No.”

His mother linked her arm with his. “I think Harry, who was positive I'd win this bet, made you some lemon bars. Let's go have some to celebrate.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

S
LATER
WAS
NOWHERE
in sight.

Just as well.

Only trouble was, Grace didn't
want
to see him and yet, perversely, she did. She wanted to find him waiting for her on the elegant veranda of the ranch house in eager anticipation of her arrival. She'd texted that she'd pick up Ryder at seven, so he knew she was coming.

They hadn't talked in three days.

Since he'd proposed, he'd been remarkably absent from her life. It was hard to say whether he was running scared, or if it was because of Hank's presence. Or maybe he was just busy, since he seemed to be jumping feet first into this new project. Boxes were being carted from the basement daily, and she was given receipts signed with his sprawling signature. But she hadn't actually seen the man himself...

She parked and got out, hoping she wouldn't have to go to the door of the house, in case he'd told his family about his off-the-cuff proposal. She knew this much about the Carson clan, though—Blythe would support his decision, his brothers would be amused and Harry might poison Grace's food if she didn't accept.

Grace, on the other hand, didn't have nearly as much of a support network. Oh, Slater was right that Ryder would be pleased, to the extent that a teen could be excited about anything. But her brother was a busy man with a young family, and her parents hadn't approved of her divorcing Hank. Her Seattle friends all had busy careers and complicated lives; their contact was rather perfunctory these days. So she was on her own.

Except for an unexpected gift in the form of Hadleigh Galloway and Melody Hogan.

Those two women had been a source of boundless information, not to mention that she'd made two good friends. The three of them had connected instantly, and had already made plans to get together again. Other than Meg—and she wasn't going to confide in someone who not only worked for her, but was also quite young and obviously had a crush on Slater—she hadn't been in Mustang Creek long enough to make friends.

Especially ones who were lifelong residents and had the real scoop. Like Hadleigh and Mel.

Slater Carson, they'd let her know over a cup of Earl Grey, was considered a player. Not that it meant he wasn't known as an all-around terrific guy, but his reputation was love 'em and leave 'em. Now, when he'd gotten Raine pregnant, he'd stepped right up, so no one could fault him for not being a great dad. When he was in town, he attended Daisy's ball games and went to parent/teacher conferences, and when he was off on location, his family pitched in to fill the void.

That was the good side.

Bad side existed, too. He'd shown no desire to commit to one woman and settle down. He was too focused on his job, and as they sipped tea, neither Hadleigh nor Melody had given her any lace-edged promises that this was likely to change. Based on her experience with Hank and her knowledge of Slater, she had to agree. She admired Slater's talent and vision, but would that be outweighed by the fact that she'd be on her own most of the time?

Back to square one.

Driven man equaled uncertain future spent mostly alone. Yup, she was all too familiar with that equation.

Both Hadleigh and Melody had just about toppled off their chairs when she confessed that he'd asked her to marry him. If she wasn't so conflicted and confused, she would've loved to take out her phone and snap a quick picture of their comical expressions.

Hadleigh Galloway had plopped down her cup so hard tea sloshed over the side. “Slater Carson asked you to
marry
him?”

Gloomily, Grace had nodded. “And he made it clear he hoped the deal would include more children.”

“He did?” Melody Hogan had sounded positively astonished. “Was he drinking? I mean, he doesn't overindulge, but I suppose if he had one beer too many—”

Before Grace could explain, Hadleigh broke in. “Mel,” she'd said, narrowing her eyes. “That's not it. Look at her!”

Grace couldn't decide if she should burst into laughter at the sudden female assessment or dash to the nearest mirror and fix her hair. Melody had studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I see your point. She's exactly his type, right? Slater likes them pretty and smart.”

That had been flattering, but it didn't solve her dilemma. “He wasn't drinking unless you count iced tea. We were having lunch.” Grace had sighed. “I couldn't even tell if he was serious at first. He asked and then went on eating. Just munching away.”

Hadleigh snorted. “Men.”

Melody said, “Par for the course. If they can mess anything up, it's a romantic moment. Will you marry me and please pass the ketchup.”

Grace did start laughing then, and was grateful for the shared amusement.

They'd all agreed no man was perfect, but their consensus was that she'd be a fool to pass up his offer. Why she'd confided in strangers was a mystery to her, but she supposed she'd just needed some advice.

If it was any consolation, they'd both agreed he was one very good-looking man, with both brains and charm. An ideal groom in some ways, or as ideal as you were going to get. But they weren't going to lay down any promises. His father had been a notorious womanizer until he'd met Blythe.

Clean as a whistle once he'd spoken his vows, though. Devoted to his wife and his family.

She hoped Slater followed in the family footsteps.

Grace hurried to the barn, determined to get Ryder and go home, which would involve another dinner with Hank. Those dinners were proving to be difficult. Slater was actually there, stripped to the waist and hefting Heck's saddle, turning as she came in.

She stopped dead in her tracks and to her horror, her eyes filled with tears. It wasn't like her, damn it! She didn't normally cry. He set down the saddle, and his voice was low as he walked over and placed his arms around her. “Grace? Hey. Take it easy. Everything all right?”

No, this
really
wasn't like her. She didn't need a man to reassure her that everything was going to be fine. Grace hiccupped against his neck and said, “You haven't even called.”

He touched her cheek, his fingers gentle. “I thought you didn't want me to call.”

“Think again, Carson.”

His bare shoulder was salty, and she gave it a shove, but not before she'd kissed it.

He ran his hand through his hair after he let her go, his eyes intense, inquiring. “I was trying to give you some space.”

There was no reason to be mad at him. She knew it, and he knew it, but somehow that didn't make it better. She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I'm not like this.”

“Understood. Is this about Hank?”

“No. It's about you.”

He rocked back on his heels, his chest gleaming with a faint sheen of perspiration, and she wondered if he'd been working so hard for the same reason she was acting out of character. “I don't even want to ask how. Just because I didn't call for three days? I didn't notice you calling me, either.”

“You asked me to marry you.”

“I remember,” he said, smiling. “And don't make it sound like a crime. If I recall, the idea wasn't met with handsprings and loud cheers, was it? I was hoping you've been thinking about changing your mind.” Luckily, Ryder came out of a stall just then with a bucket in his hand, straw stuck to him from head to toe. Straw that would end up all over her car. At least his timing was good. She didn't want to answer Slater's question, but she had one of her own.

She took the plunge. “What weekend did you have in mind? For...for our trip.”

Slater's expression lightened immediately. “To scope out sites for the shoot? You name it. I'm there.”

“How about this coming one? Seems to me we should talk about...a few things.”

He leaned over and picked up the saddle he'd put down. “We're on. What time should I pick you up on Friday?”

“I'm driving.” She needed to take control of
something
. Everything seemed to be slipping away. She had no control over having Hank back in her life. No control over David Reinhart's little stunts—because Spence Hogan had regretfully agreed with her that the lack of any concrete evidence tied his hands. And no control over her volatile love life.

“Hi, Grace.” Ryder had obviously sensed the edginess, suddenly swiping at his clothes. “I didn't have any homework today, so if Slate says it okay, we're done.”

“
Slate
says it's fine. He's also looking forward to Friday night.”

So was she. Of course, she still had to get through
this
night, and that wasn't going to be easy. She turned to Ryder. “Let's go. I'm picking up some hamburger and buns. Your dad claims he'll grill them. I don't know that I've ever had anything he's cooked, so we'll cross our fingers.”

Wasn't that the unhappy truth? She'd give him credit for eating whatever was set in front of him, but Hank didn't even pour milk on his own cereal. His desire to insinuate himself back into cozy cohabitation was so transparent that she was worried Ryder might've been right when he'd said her ex was more interested in her than in his son. No wonder her nerves were shot.

It didn't help that Slater caught her hand and pulled her in for a brief, hard kiss before he promised, “I'll call you.”

Fortunately, Ryder had left the building.

* * *

H
E
'
D
BEEN
SHOWING
some hard-won restraint, in his opinion, but this afternoon had lifted his spirits.

Slater tipped back a beer, took a swallow and admired the sunset.

Grace had cried because he hadn't called her.

He had the feeling that was simplifying it, since women seemed so damned complicated. He didn't think he'd ever get an angle on it, but she'd come into his arms willingly...and she'd asked for a weekend with him.

He'd smelled the sweet scent of her hair, and for once, hadn't said the wrong thing.

He felt like he was in heaven, or at least close. Especially when Drake stepped outside with the watering can, cautiously looking around, that hilarious hat perched on his head.

“Oh, shit,” his brother grumbled, seeing him in the tilted-back chair, booted feet on the railing. “I knew I wasn't going to catch a break. Good, you can be my witness. I wore the damned hat. I'm a man of my word. All of this is your fault, you know.”

Slater was laughing so hard he was sure he'd be crying soon. “How so?” he managed to gasp out.

“That impromptu proposal ruined my timeline.” Drake glowered at him and dumped half a can of water on a poor inoffensive plant. “Any reasonable adult male would talk to his next of kin, meaning his closest brother, before proposing marriage. Hint, hint, me. I thought I had this in the bag. Instead, here I am.” He gestured at the rows of potted plants around him.

Slater held up a hand, still shaking with mirth. “I'll attest you wore the hat, so you can take it off now. If you don't, I might bust a gut. I beg you, have mercy on a fairly innocent man...”

Drake whipped it off and tossed it on the table, but by then he was laughing, too. “Innocent? Even fairly? Yeah, right. Dream on. So tell me, when's the wedding? After this, you'd better ask me to be best man.”

Slater shrugged but couldn't resist saying, “Only if you wear the hat.”

Drake looked as if he might pour the contents of the watering can over his head, so Slater added sardonically, “Problem is, Grace hasn't answered me. And I can't help it if our mother has miraculous deductive powers.”

“Hasn't answered? Where's the reputed Slater Carson charm?”

“I think that's the problem—it might be reputed but it's unproven. Apparently, a skill I don't really have.”

“Yeah, right.” Drake came over and perched on the railing. Like favorite ghosts, Harold and Violet trailed along and dropped down on the porch with a thump. “You haven't had a problem that I've ever seen. Raine fell for you pretty hard.”

It wasn't the first time he'd sensed that maybe his younger brother was in love with Raine. But Drake didn't disclose that sort of thing; he was a true cowboy, sentimental but intensely private. Keeping his tone neutral, Slater said, “I always wondered why you didn't do anything about your feelings for her when she and I split.”

There was a pause, and Slater thought Drake was going to tell him to go jump off a cliff, that it was none of his business, but to his surprise he hoisted himself up on the railing of the veranda and looked him in the eye. “I did ask her out. By then, she already knew she was pregnant. She's Raine...so she was honest about it. I even took her to one of her doctor's appointments when her car was in the shop and she needed a ride.”

Slater wasn't going to deny that this information was a shock. “You knew about Daisy before
I
knew?”

“Listen, Showbiz, you were off on location, remember?” Drake wasn't defensive; that wasn't his style. “She was having a Carson baby, so she turned, logically enough, to one of us when she needed a favor. Mace or Mom would've insisted she tell you. I'm sure not a saint or anything but I can keep my mouth shut. She hadn't decided when she was going to tell you.”

He couldn't decide whether to be outraged or just shake his head at Drake's revelation. He settled for saying, “Guess if I ever have a life-changing secret I want to keep from someone, I can tell you.”

“Yep.” Drake's grin was crooked. “I figured she'd tell you when she was ready, and she did. Besides, you weren't here, anyway, so she had a point that it would just make you crazy not to be involved. We both agreed on that.”

That could have been true, but it was all over and done with, anyway. Raine had eventually told him, and he had Daisy in his life.