Once a Rancher

by Linda Lael Miller

  Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Carson.

  *

  “WHAT 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.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JUST HER LUCK. When she dashed to the door to answer the knock before Hank could get there, it was the Chinese take-out delivery man. Hank came to the door, anyway, paid for the food and took the bag. Her ex-husband informed her, “Carson and I are not going to decide on pistols at dawn just because you’re going to dinner with him. Do I wish it was with me instead? Hell, yes, I do, but the minute I walked into your office I figured you weren’t going to change your mind about us. You look fantastic, by the way. He’s a lucky bastard.”

  At that moment the lucky bastard pulled in. Ryder jumped out of his truck and waved with delighted familiarity at the delivery man, then came inside to head straight for the shower. In passing, he said casually, “Hey, Dad. Hi, Grace. Hey, you look nice.”

  The job at the ranch had certainly improved his attitude. She wondered if Hank had any idea what his parents had tried to handle, and the difficult child she’d ended up with when they couldn’t do it anymore. She doubted it. Already she could sense that Hank was bored with the visit, unhappy she was involved with someone else. Ryder was probably right; he wasn’t going to stick around. If she had to predict, she’d give him about three more days. Luckily, Ryder had Slater, Drake and Mace, not to mention the old cowboy, Red, who seemed to be something of a hero to him. So when Hank came up with an excuse to leave early, he wouldn’t be without a father figure.

  “Thanks,” she murmured to his retreating back as she reached for her black clutch.

  The look on Slater’s face was worth the hour she’d spent getting ready. His oh-so-blue eyes widened and he stopped abruptly as he walked up to the door. “I am officially,” he said in a husky tone, “speechless.”

  “You just said something, so that isn’t true,” she pointed out as she swept past him. “Don’t expect salmon t
onight, by the way. File all complaints with the management.”

  “I’m sure I won’t have any complaints at all.” Hurrying to his truck, he made a beeline for her door and got there in time to open it for her. She was nervous for some reason she couldn’t fathom. Part of it might be that he looked incredible in his dark suit, and she was simply too susceptible.

  She needed to get a grip and remind herself that her life was complicated, but the chaos would pass, and she’d find a steady pace again. For the moment, though, Slater Carson made her feel unsteady.

  She climbed into his truck, which was a little complicated in her dress. “Keep in mind that Meg’s in charge and she’s kind of nervous.”

  “Gotcha.” His smile was charming as he clasped her elbow and helped her in. “I think my guests will be suitably kind to her, so stop worrying. If anything goes wrong, besides the very minor salmon issue, I’m sure you’ll leap up and save the day. Relax.”

  Easy for him to say. She wanted to ask if she looked okay, but that was a stupid idea on several levels, one of them being that he would inevitably answer yes. The other was that she didn’t require his reassurance every five seconds. If he didn’t like how she looked, acted or anything else, he was free to move on.

  But she was coming to the conclusion that she didn’t want him moving anywhere…

  However… That meant she had to accept his proposal. Marry him, move to the ranch and hope for happy-ever-after.

  He climbed into the driver’s side and started the truck. She, in turn, stared out the front window. “I love you.”

  He accidentally put the vehicle in neutral and they coasted backward until he found the brake and jerked to a stop. “Mind repeating that?”

  Grace still didn’t want to look at him so she continued to stare straight ahead. “I think you heard me. And…I’ve already told you I didn’t want to fall in love with you.”

  “I remember,” he said in a thick voice. “Quite clearly.”

  “You have the right to expect me to jump up and down over your proposal. You have the right to expect tears of joy at the idea of becoming your wife. You have the right to—”

  “Remain silent?” he interrupted, and when she glanced at him, she was smiling.

  He had a unique way of turning a situation to his favor.

  “No,” she said with a sigh. “You can say whatever you want and it won’t be held against you.”

  “I’m going to respond to that by saying the evening’s started out well. Couldn’t be better, in fact. You love me, and I love you. When it’s time for us to sit down and really talk, let me know.”

  “What? We’ll have a meeting?”

  He laughed, and she said, “The meeting to worry about is the one tonight.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried. All the men in that room will look at you, and they won’t be able to think about anything else, so everything should go my way. They’ll just put up the money and they won’t be able to string two words together.”

  He was a charmer, and she needed to remember that. “Slater, can we come to an agreement? First, let me make sure David Reinhart is going to either leave me alone or do jail time. Let me get my ex-husband out of my hair. Let me make sure Ryder’s adjusted to his new life before I have to decide if a white dress and a change of last name is a good idea.”

  He didn’t skip a beat. “Take all the time you need, Grace, but maybe you should look at it from my perspective. Let me help you with David Reinhart. Hank Emery won’t be around long, as we both know. Ryder’s adjusting well, according to my mother. And the white dress is totally optional. I like the black number you’re wearing now—a lot. Did I mention that?”

  “You did, and thank you for the compliment.”

  “I meant a real lot.”

  “That’s not even good English.” She was laughing.

  He drove out of the condo complex. “I suspect you’re right. So Meg and Mace? Thoughts?”

  Now he was a matchmaker, not just a filmmaker? She did think it over. Mace Carson was good-looking but that applied to all three brothers. “Maybe. She has a crush on you, by the way.”

  “She’s a very nice girl, but I’m kind of taken. I hope.”

  How, exactly, was she supposed to survive this evening without falling into his arms? And his bed. She knew full well that he’d booked a room in the resort. “You did hear me a few minutes ago, didn’t you? I need more time.”

  “Oh, absolutely. That’s why we’re not talking about us, but about my brother and your assistant possibly hooking up.”

  “You should’ve invited him to the dinner, then.”

  “I did. I also invited Drake, since he’s a fourth-generation rancher and represents part of what the film’s going to be about. Also some of my guests fund animal rights groups, and I think he belongs to most of them, especially the ones that concentrate on endangered species in this area.” He sent her a sidelong look. “Lettie Arbuckle-Calder will be there, too.”

  Grace raised her eyebrows. “Should I be afraid?”

  He grinned. “No, afraid is the wrong word. I actually like the woman, but your problem is going to be that she happens to be fond of me, as well. Since privacy around these parts is pretty much nonexistent, she’ll probably pounce on you like a starving chicken on a stray kernel of corn. Uh, this won’t surprise you, but she’s heard about my proposal.”

  He said it in his best cowboy drawl, and she was afraid she’d ruin her mascara, with tears of mirth. “Let me guess. Red?”

  “Of course. As I said, Lettie knows everyone around here, and she’s as impressed with him as the rest of us. That man makes a powerful impact on a person’s psyche.” He paused. “Especially a young person’s. Who knows what Ryder will pick up next.”

  What Ryder seemed to be picking up was a solid work ethic, and she was grateful for that. When his report card arrived, she’d find out more, but there’d been no calls from the school lately—a welcome change. “He’s a good influence,” she added with a smile.

  “He is that. Shall we?”

  *

  THE ROOM WAS elegantly decorated, with white tablecloths and crystal, the music as understated as he’d requested. He hated dinners that had so much background noise, you couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, even the people seated beside you. The point of the meeting was to talk about the upcoming film, and his assistant, Nathan, had done an outstanding job with the slideshow that was flashing during the cocktail hour. There were views not only of the Tetons, groves of aspens, meadows with grazing elk, but also old photographs of mining camps, towns founded in the late 1800s, the former hotel and even his family’s ranch.

  He—or rather, he and Grace—hadn’t been able to take their site-scouting trip, due to the attack on Hank Emery. However, Nate had pulled the visuals together, using what they had available from a variety of sources. Everyone was clearly impressed, and the evocative images stirred that needed excitement.

  Great start to the evening. Except that Grace was distracting every male in the room. He’d be the first to admit she was stunning, and he also had the feeling she’d dressed like this on purpose to get back at him because of the way he’d arranged for her to be a guest instead of the efficient resort manager. Okay, he’d been a little manipulative, but…

  Call it even.

  He wasn’t trying to be high-handed; he was feeling his way around their relationship. And he really just wanted to spend the evening with her.

  The rest of his life with her.

  One thing he would say, Grace stuck by his side as he moved around the room. She wasn’t technically at work, so she did accept a glass of Mountain Vineyards wine Mace insisted she try, since she appeared to be his new favorite critic. She took a sip of the pinot noir, proclaimed it the best yet. Meg bustled in now and again, very competent and unfailingly sweet. At one point Grace murmured, “She’s so going to replace me one day.”

  It was said with affection, and he didn’t blame her. Too public a place for hi
s own show of affection? He risked the PDA and put his arm around her waist. “No one can replace you.”

  “Carson, you are so transparent it isn’t funny.” She leaned toward him and whispered in his ear. “Might be why I’m being won over.”

  Now, that was the best news he’d had in a long while.

  “I’m listening.”

  Mrs. Arbuckle-Calder (still generally known as Mrs. A) walked up at that very moment in a waft of some expensive perfume, and dressed as usual in a suit that probably had a Parisian label. She held a crystal glass in her hand. By way of greeting, she said succinctly, “Melody Hogan.”

  Slater was used to her imperious manner, so he didn’t bat an eye. “Good evening, Mrs. A. Have you met Grace Emery?”

  “No.” There was a nod of approval after a sweeping assessment of Grace’s person. “You know how to pick them, young man. But back to my original point. Melody Hogan.”

  He didn’t dare look over at Grace, afraid he’d shout with laughter at her expression. People not used to the Arbuckle approach were often flummoxed by her, confused about how to respond. Just being called a young man at his age was funny enough. He said mildly, “I know Melody. What about her?”

  “For the ring.” Mrs. A scowled at him as if he was an idiot for not discerning exactly what she meant.

  The light dawned. Melody designed custom jewelry. It was actually a very good idea, much better than walking into some generic jewelry store, squinting at a case of diamonds and randomly selecting one. He could make films and had plenty of other skills, too, but jewelry was not in his area of expertise. However, since Grace didn’t want to be pushed, he hadn’t taken that step yet.

  “That’s an excellent suggestion.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’m thinking a sapphire the color of her eyes. Yes, that’s the ticket. I need more wine.”

  Grace was still speechless when the woman walked away. Slater spoke first. “Conversations with Lettie Arbuckle-Calder are never dull. I believe I warned you. They always end the same way, too. When she’s finished saying whatever she has to say, she either hangs up or leaves. She isn’t being rude, or not to her mind, anyway. The discussion is over, and that’s that.”