Once a Rancher (18 page)

Grace came back into the room, unable to conceal the surprise on her face at seeing the two of them talking like civilized individuals. “Something's wrong with one of the ovens, and apparently that means the spa chef has to use the hotel kitchen for tomorrow's breakfast. That'll be World War Three. I'll brace myself, bring earplugs to drown out the temperamental shouting. I can picture those two chefs facing off with spatulas like fencing masters.”

Her forced levity didn't fool him at all. She was upset under her cool facade, and that was both good and bad. He hoped the emotion wasn't because of a resurgence of feelings for Emery. She'd never said she didn't love the man, just admitted she couldn't live with him.

Well, hell.

Time to go.

Slater got up. “I guess you don't need me. Tell Ryder I'll see him tomorrow.”

That was hard to say out loud.
I guess you don't need me.

Grace nodded and he could tell she wanted to say something else as she walked him to the door. But maybe not. All she offered him was a simple thank-you. His smile was ironic. “But you don't need me rushing to your rescue, I know. You were very clear about that.”

“I love having you rush to my rescue.” Grace followed him out the front door, and suddenly her hands were warm on his shoulders as she rose up to kiss him. “
Need
is different.”

He pulled her close and savored the contact, murmuring against her mouth, “Feels good to hear the word
love
.”

She finally pushed him away with a soft laugh. “I'll see you tomorrow night.”

For his production company event. He climbed into his truck mollified, but not sure if all signals were registering on his channels—or registering correctly. A very satisfactory goodbye kiss, though.

With the ex-husband right there.

It was an iffy situation and he couldn't decide what to make of it, but he did know that driving off wasn't the easiest thing he'd ever done. His entire adult life, he'd shied away from clinging women, but Grace took it a little too far in the other direction. He wanted to protect her; instead, Emery got assigned that duty.

His phone pinged and he pulled into the parking lot at the local bakery, which had been closed for hours now, to read the message. It was from Spence.

We have a description from a neighbor of a man hopping Grace's fence. It fits Reinhart.

He typed back:

Enough to bring him in?

For questioning, yes. Have to find him first. Got kicked out of the apartment he was sharing with a friend for being in arrears with the rent. I was able to uncover that he has a major gambling problem.

He suspected that wouldn't surprise Grace and typed back:

Keep me posted.

Will do.

Slater sat there for a moment. Maybe Grace was right and the man had left town, but if money was enough of an issue that he was skimming from the bar at the resort and not paying his rent, he was probably desperate.

And had a lot of time on his hands to plot revenge.

With that disquieting thought, Slater put the vehicle in gear and drove back toward the ranch.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

G
RACE
DID
ANOTHER
LAP
, flipped around, pushed off the side and finished her swim at full speed.

It felt good and there was nothing like exercise to relieve stress, she reminded herself. She climbed out of the pool and reached for her towel. Lately she'd become an expert on the subject of stress, but she wanted to relinquish that particular honor.

Slater's production company event was only hours away. She'd considered letting Meg handle it, but for big bookings like this one, she always oversaw the details and it was important to the resort that it go well. She didn't think Slater would be concerned about whether or not his napkin was folded in a certain shape, but his investors would be there, and they were all wealthy and connected and would have very specific expectations. A good impression was her goal, not to mention her responsibility.

To her job, and to him.

She was beginning to understand how much trust was involved in their relationship. She'd compiled a short mental list. She trusted him with Ryder's well-being, and that was no small thing. He trusted her with Hank, who was staying at her home, but he didn't go all male ego on her. Equally, she trusted that he was telling the truth about his relationship with Raine. He trusted she might someday respond to his proposal.

She was a little hung up on that one.

“Hey, Grace, we have a problem.” Meg came through the glass doors to the pool area, waving a piece of paper. “No salmon.”

“No salmon?” Grace finished drying her hair with the towel. “What does that mean?”

Her assistant was clearly flustered. “Full service menu for the Carson Production meeting tonight and we didn't get in the fresh wild salmon.”

On the scorecard of disasters, this was about a two at most. “All right. What about the other fish we offer?”

“We have those.”

“Then relax. I keep waiting for a perfect day. You know, when not one thing goes wrong? It hasn't happened in my lifetime. So we can't serve salmon. Okay, that's too bad, but we'll soldier on and none of the guests will starve to death. Everything else good?”

“I think so.”

“I appreciate your attention to detail.”

“Are you really going to marry him?”

Grace almost dropped her towel. “What?”

“Slater Carson.” Her assistant smiled apologetically, hair curling in the humidity of the pool enclosure. “This is Bliss County. Word has it he proposed.”

She was going to kill him. Then she reconsidered. “He'd never tell anyone he proposed.” She knew in her heart that Melody and Hadleigh wouldn't, either.

Meg looked slightly superior. “Were you alone?”

“Yes, we were.”

“Hmm. Balconies below your office. Balconies above. One on each side. Still think you were alone?”

The housekeeping staff
was
around at that time of day... Oh, this got better and better. That was when they cleaned the rooms
and
the offices. Checkout at eleven, check-in at three. She and Slater had that lunch around one...

“I guess not.” She wanted to grind her teeth, but that wouldn't change anything. “I just
thought
we were. Silly me. As for the question, I'm sure the entire world also knows I haven't answered him yet.”

“You can't blame everyone for being curious.” Meg flashed her impish smile. “It's
Slater Carson
. He's probably the closest thing to a celebrity we have in Mustang Creek, and, well...you've
seen
him.”

Maybe if she wasn't sleep deprived because of current events, she wouldn't have said it. “Yeah, I've seen him. All of him,” she went on recklessly. If there were no secrets here, why try to keep them? “Feel free to let everyone know he's definitely worth looking at. Now, please tell me the waitstaff understands that this really isn't about impressing Slater. It has more to do with making a positive impression on his guests. He already likes the resort and gives us his business. Let's make sure his trust in us is well placed, shall we? I'm going home to shower and change.”

“The black lace dress. Since you're his date.”

Her wet feet on the tiles, Grace swung around so fast she almost lost her balance. “I'm what?”

Meg looked sheepish. “That dress is fantastic on you, and he called today and specifically asked for you to be added to the guest list. He said he'd pick you up at six-thirty.”

It was
such
a Slater move. “He might've called me himself,” she muttered.

“He said he knew you were busy.”

She was, but what he really wanted to do was not give her a chance to refuse. Meg was obviously part of the conspiracy and she didn't seem to feel guilty about it at all. Instead, she smiled brilliantly. “So, the black lace. I mean...you always look great, but that dress could've been made just for you.”

Grace had worn it only once, to a board meeting that included dinner, right after she was hired. Her lucky dress... Maybe this
was
the time. “Great suggestion. Thanks.”

Meg's eyes were warm. “I'm happy for you.”

She was still waffling over whether or not she was happy for herself. “Slater's a good man,” she said slowly. “But a match made in heaven? That's a myth. I'm so gun-shy it isn't funny. One minute I want to say yes, but the next I tell myself I never want to go through a breakup again. It's so heart-wrenching when it happens, I can't sleep or eat.”

“He's really in love with you.”

Her innocence was touching, but still... “What makes you say that?”

“I've seen him look at you.” She seemed so sincere.

It must be nice to be that young and naive, Grace thought, feeling slightly jaded, but then her assistant turned the moment on her by adding, “
And
I've seen you look at
him
. I'll make sure the dinner goes smoothly, I promise. If you trust me, this will be my first executive party going solo. You just sit there and be a guest. Let me handle everything. I'd love to take a shot at it.”

Great to know she wore her heart on her sleeve. Grace was used to being the one advising people, not the other way around. However, she'd be grateful to hand over the reins now and then, and Meg was certainly capable. Besides, worst-case scenario, she'd be right there. “Okay, take the shot.”

“Go get ready.” Meg pointed at the door. “There's nothing like having the boss there watching your every move. Excuse me, I need to run now. I have a thousand things to do.”

She ran. She booked it out of the room so fast, her feet barely hit the floor. When she'd left, Grace changed into sweats, bunched her hair into a swift twist, and tossed her bathing suit in a bag. To her relief, her car sat there unscathed, tires inflated, paint immaculate. She'd taken to parking by the main entrance, while she used to park near the back to leave the better spots for guests, but she still subscribed to the theory that David Reinhart had left the area.

That was a cheerful thought. Even more appealing was the prospect of the coming evening. Despite his methods—how did Slater know she'd find it harder to deflate Meg than to say no to him—she was looking forward to seeing him in action as the boss, to meeting his colleagues and investors, to sitting next to him...

To knocking his socks off. Black lace dress, check. High heels, check...the ones with the small ruffle on top and the open toe. Light makeup, and she might even tame her hair into an elegant style.

Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Carson.

* * *

“W
HAT
DO
YOU
THINK
?”
he asked.

Daisy cocked her head and
considered the question. She was spending the night at the ranch, much to his mother's delight, because Raine had some out-of-town business. She'd knocked on his door just as Slater was shrugging into his suit coat and she was now perched on the edge of the bed, studying his evening attire with a critical eye. With the frankness of a ten-year-old going on eleven (although he often felt she must be going on thirty), she said succinctly, “Lose the tie, Dad. I don't like it.”

Definitely
going on thirty.

Slater glanced in the mirror. He wasn't fond of ties to begin with but it seemed fine to him. “What's wrong with it?”

“You don't look like you.”

What the heck did that mean?

She went on earnestly, “My dad doesn't wear ties. He wears cowboy boots and jeans and a hat.”

When had she gotten so gangly? He could swear she'd sprouted up about half a foot in the past month. “It's all about you, huh? Okay, I'll lose the tie. But this isn't a dinner for jeans and a hat.” He might as well be honest. “I'd rather dress that way and be more comfortable, though.”

“Then why don't you do it? Grown-ups get to do what they want.”

He loosened the tie and then tossed it aside. Her endless questions never ceased to amaze him, and the most remarkable part was that he actually got stumped now and then. “Not quite true, honey. I wish I could promise you that you'll never have to do anything you don't want once you hit a certain age, but then I wouldn't be telling you the truth. Grown-ups have to do things they don't like, but that's life. However, I think you're right about the tie. Good call. I'll wear the suit, skip the tie.”

She nodded. “Is Grace going to be there?”

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected this to come up. “I hope so. I invited her.”

“Because you like her.” Her eyes were solemn.

“Because I like her, yes.” He unbuttoned his collar and really
was
a lot more comfortable. Not with the conversation, though it had to be addressed. “Is that okay with you?” He didn't need her permission; however, it was important to know how she felt.

She did think it over for a moment, then nodded. “She seems cool.”

He could agree with that. “She
is
cool.”

“Her hair's pretty.” Daisy swung her legs and creased her forehead.

He agreed with that, too. “Very.”

“I asked Uncle Mace if you were going to marry her.”

At least it was Mace and not Drake. Drake was so painfully honest that a direct question, even from a ten-year-old, would be answered frankly. Mace had the ability to evade if necessary. Cautiously, Slater asked his daughter, “And what did he say?”

“He said it's possible.” Her dimples flashed as she smiled. “Then he gave me some ice cream. Whenever I ask him something he doesn't want to talk about, he gives me ice cream.”

Slater burst out laughing. “In other words, you played him.”

“A little.”

Still smiling, he went over and sat down beside her, hands clasped between his knees. “Why didn't you just ask me?”

The answer was significant to him. He wanted to be accessible if she ever had a question.

“Mom told me if I wanted the truth I should ask Uncle Drake, but if I wanted ice cream, I should ask Uncle Mace. I wanted ice cream.”

That was so Raine.

It was impossible not to laugh again, but he gave Daisy a brief hug. “Your mom was right there. I do want to marry Grace, and I hope that won't upset you, because it doesn't change anything between me and you, or me and your mom. Got it?”

“Got it.” She had a child's pragmatic attitude. “I want chocolate cake for my birthday party with that whipped cream frosting.”

Moment passed, moment saved. He nodded. “I'll tell Harry.”

She stood up and waved her hand airily. “I already have, Dad. Just wanted to make sure you didn't want yucky strawberry or anything.”

He thought the real point of the conversation was Grace but didn't argue. His inquisitive daughter had asked her mother about the subject, and he wasn't surprised by the response, which sounded exactly like Raine. Then she'd let him handle it however he wanted, and that was exactly like her, too.

He hoped he'd done a good job. He remembered the day he'd heard about his father's death. His mother had dealt with it in a straightforward manner. In retrospect, she'd obviously been devastated, but she was calm when she spoke to her boys, pointing out that life was unpredictable and looking at what you had instead of what you don't have was the only way to cope. She'd told them their dad would always be part of their lives. He admired her and wanted to offer that same rock-solid guidance to his own child.

“I won't do any cake interference,” he promised, and Daisy's sunny smile told him she'd been teasing; she knew Harry wouldn't dream of baking anything except the cake she wanted on her birthday.

“Mom said if she was going to pick someone for you, she'd pick Grace.”

With that declaration Daisy went out the door at her usual hundred miles an hour, signaling that their discussion was over. He went back to the large mirror his mother had hung on the wall and reconsidered his image, something he almost never did. Shaving when he realized it had been a couple of days—that was about the only time he paid attention to his appearance. Daisy, he decided, was absolutely right. Losing the tie made him look more relaxed...even if he wasn't.

Tonight was important in a way that had nothing to do with the upcoming project.

He and Grace would be out in public as a couple for the first time. He wished she'd answer his question, but he wasn't going to push it, because he sensed that patience was the best strategy. It didn't help his ego that half of Wyoming seemed to know he'd asked her to marry him and that she hadn't given him a resounding
yes.
At least he hadn't gotten a firm
no
, either.

With that in mind, he went off to find Ryder, drop him off at home and pick up his date.