“No.” She wished she could disagree. “Hank was taken completely off guard. That’s my fault.”
“We’ll figure this out.” He sounded very sure of himself.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Producer, how is it that you think you can do it better than a former police officer?”
“My network is a little larger.”
The Carson connections. He could even be right. In Mustang Creek the Carson name had influence—and they knew everyone in the area. “This has taken a different, more dangerous turn,” he said, his face grim. “Your ex-husband isn’t a small guy. So if Reinhart is willing to go after Hank, no more fooling around. Ryder is still a kid, and former police officer or not, you’re a woman. Let’s just assume the worst could happen. I have a plan.”
That declaration made her pause. “Like?”
“I can move in here or you and Ryder can move to the ranch.”
If he moved in here…that would mean Hank and him in the same space. That was hardly going to work. “No.”
Slater’s gaze was unflinching. “That was not a yes or no question.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that she wanted to fling herself into his arms again, she’d be more irritated. Actually, she was irritated that she wanted to throw herself into his arms. “I don’t want to leave either one of them here alone.”
“Then I move in.”
“Oh, more males,” she said sarcastically. “That works out well for me. Let’s see, you, Ryder, Bonaparte and Hank? Where would you even sleep? The floor? Hank’s got Ryder’s room and Ryder’s on the couch. And don’t you dare say my bed.”
He did grin, but it held an edge of exasperation. “I’m suggesting a solution to keep us both sane. If you think for one minute that I’m not worried sick about you, get real. I’d happily camp out on the floor to keep you safe.”
She hadn’t been particularly worried before this incident, but felt a whole new level of concern over what might happen next. Slater was right about that. David had taken a step that could land him some major jail time if he was caught. “If I were David Reinhart,” she said, her voice calmer than she felt, “I’d be headed straight out of town. I suspect he’s long gone.”
Slater glanced in through the glass doors. “I doubt he realizes he attacked a high-ranking military officer. Hank’s wearing civilian clothes right now, so he looks like an ordinary guy.”
David probably assumed Hank was you, Grace realized with a start, and that you’d gotten your hair cut. David and Slater had seen each other briefly and only in passing. Slater’s height and coloring were similar to Hank’s.
Wonderful. Now she was going to worry about Slater, too.
Luckily, one of her worries evaporated when she heard a faint meow and saw Bonaparte sitting on top of the fence. He licked his paw and then jumped down to saunter over. If only cats could talk, she thought as she bent to stroke his fur. She’d bet he’d been a witness.
Despite her faith in his sense of feline self-preservation, it was a relief to see him alive and well.
Slater went to the door. “Hey, Ryder. Someone here to see you.”
Boy meets cat was a happy reunion. One cloud banished from her horizon, anyway, but the sun wasn’t exactly shining.
*
SLATER WASN’T SURE how to handle the Hank Emery situation. He hoped Grace might agree to stay at the ranch and bring Ryder along.
Well, maybe. Although it didn’t seem quite fair to leave Emery here on his own, military training or not.
Besides, Grace would never go along with either scenario—staying at the ranch or him moving in here. She had an independent spirit, and he probably wouldn’t be as interested in her if she didn’t, so that part of the problem was his own damn fault. He couldn’t dislike Emery, because he seemed decent enough, and for Ryder’s sake alone, he wanted to believe Emery was a good guy. Maybe not husband material, maybe not a stellar father, but as a man, not so bad or Grace wouldn’t have married him in the first place. Neither could he forget Emery’s dedication to the armed services. That was something he had to respect.
So they now sat looking at each other, and ironically they probably had exactly the same thing in mind. Protecting Grace and Ryder—the number-one priority for both of them.
While Grace answered her phone—a call from the resort—he and the major took each other’s measure. They watched Grace take her cell into the kitchen. Calls from work seemed to be a recurring theme. She worked long hours, but Slater did, too, so he could hardly fault her for that. The deputy had departed, and Ryder was still out on the patio with his cat, giving him his evening meal, apparently unwilling to let the animal out of his sight. That meant Slater was on his own with Grace’s ex-husband.
He’d chosen a patterned chair and considered the man seated on the couch across from him. “You’re a strategist. Tell me, what do we do now, Major Emery? I don’t want Grace or Ryder alone. I assume that, considering the bruise I can see on your temple, you agree.”
Emery’s eyes were such a pale blue they were almost gray, and he leveled a stern look at Slater. “They won’t be alone,” he said. “I’m right here. I didn’t know there was anything going on. Now that I do…well, that changes things.”
“But you won’t be here indefinitely. If I could, I’d like to relocate them to the ranch, where there are always people coming and going, and most of them are hefty ranch hands. Convincing Grace is my main problem. I was kind of hoping you’d help me out.”
What a gamble. He didn’t have any illusions. They wanted the same woman, and they both knew it. Hands-down rivals and members of the same I-Want-Her club.
Despite that, Emery responded reasonably. “When I get new orders, I’ll suggest it. If we’d had this conversation yesterday, I doubt it would’ve gone this way. It doesn’t hurt that your background check came out clean.”
Slater wasn’t surprised. He probably would’ve done that, too. “How about my degenerate brothers?”
Emery actually laughed, but then winced and put the compress back against his face. “They’re also upstanding citizens. The worst I could find was that the younger one, Mason, got a speeding ticket when he was eighteen, but I think we’ll just let that one slide since he went on to graduate with honors from UCLA. Ryder spends a lot of time with the Carson family, according to Grace. I suspect she does, as well. Don’t blame me for being careful.”
“I don’t.” Slater meant it. He added with a hint of humor, “And I knew about the speeding ticket because I lent him the money to pay it, but don’t mention that ticket in front of my mother. All these years later, she still doesn’t know.”
“My lips are sealed.”
At least they weren’t antagonistic. There was no way for two men—two people—to go after the same thing and be best friends. Respectful, yes, even cordial. To a point. But what Slater really wanted was someone watching out for Grace and Ryder. “I can’t tell Grace what to do.”
Emery gave him a male look of brotherhood, a look that wasn’t confrontational. “No, you can’t. Take it from me. I tell people what to do all day, but she just won’t go along with the program.”
“Up until now, all this guy was trying to do was get under her skin. The attack on you changes the whole game.”
“I can’t disagree with that. At least with his job at the ranch, Ryder isn’t coming home to an empty house anymore.”
That was true. This evening had proven that Reinhart was willing to do anything to avoid getting caught.
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 und
er 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
GRACE 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.
Once a Rancher Page 18
