Grace finally found her voice. “She’ll take care of it?”
“Look at it like this. You’ll have a much prettier ring than if it was me doing the shopping. I might’ve asked Red to go along with me, and you’d end up with a forty-pound nugget of gold to lug around on your finger.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything.” Her eyes flashed, but her mouth twitched.
He looked straight back at her. “Not yet. I’m hopeful, though. The slideshow’s over and Meg’s having the staff clear off the appetizer table right on cue. She’s doing a great job. Let me make my brief speech and then we can relax and have dinner. I’m thinking of ordering salmon, just to see how Meg handles it.”
Grace gulped down a mouthful of wine, no doubt sorely needed after Mrs. Arbuckle-Calder’s drive-by visit. “You’re impossible.”
He took her elbow. “Get used to it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SHE WAS SEATED next to Drake, which was welcome, since she’d describe him as the quiet brother, and Grace didn’t need a lot of questions at the moment. He ordered sea scallops, risotto with a sweet potato puree and an endive and hearts of palm salad.
That would never have been the menu choice she figured a six-foot-plus cowboy with a nonchalant demeanor would select. He’d chosen to wear boots and a denim shirt even to a gathering like this one, but all the pomp didn’t bother him, even if he’d picked beer instead of wine, and there was no crystal glass involved, just a cold bottle.
The Carson brothers were an interesting trio.
In an attempt at humor, she remarked, “You do realize I’ll have to tell Red about the salad. Hearts of palm does not seem like standard cowboy fare.”
“He won’t blink an eye. You’d never guess it but he’s kind of an amateur chef,” Drake informed her, his amiable smile surfacing. “I know, he’s a wizened old cowhand—and I swear I’m not making this up—but he made paella last week. Borrowed Harry’s special pan and everything for the occasion. He scoured the shops in town for the ingredients and drove sixty miles to buy saffron. I was just riding in while it was cooking, and let me tell you, it smelled great. So I stopped and had a plate.”
“And?”
“It was good stuff. Not joking. It would make his day if you asked him to whip some up for you.” Drake brightened. “I’m serious here. Hey, at your reception, you should pit him and Harry against each other. I doubt you’d need fireworks then. Oh, man, toss in Bad Billy, and you could light up the night sky. Those three could be the caterers from heaven if you gave them the chance to compete with each other.”
She was trying to decide how irritated to be at the assumption everyone seemed to have that she was going to marry Slater simply because he’d asked her. Time for a change of subject. Besides, she really did need his help. “I’ll think about that, but in the meanwhile, I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor.”
“Yes.”
She looked at Slater’s brother with wry amusement. “You don’t know what it is yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”
This unswerving acceptance was getting to her. “Ryder’s cat—”
“Bonaparte, right? The stray you took in. The kid talks about him constantly. What? Please tell me there’s nothing wrong.”
Well, what were connections worth if you didn’t use them? Grace explained, “No, not wrong, but we do have a small problem. Slater said you’re like a magician with animals. There’s no getting that stubborn feline in his crate to go to the vet. The complex won’t even let us keep him if he isn’t up to date on his shots, and I doubt he’s had a single one. I need to turn in the paperwork before someone reports him. Plus, he needs to be neutered. He seems to be able to read my mind whenever I’ve tried to grab him for an appointment, and then he does a disappearing act, so we’ve missed at least three.”
“Done.”
That type of confidence—with a finicky cat—made her blink. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty much.” He shrugged, and she believed him. “I reckon I can talk some sense into the critter. Do you love my brother?”
Back to that and—he was a straight shooter, too. Got right to the point; she hadn’t distracted him one bit.
Grace fought the urge to slug back her wine, but took a deep breath instead. “Wish I didn’t.”
“You should love him. Not an easy proposition, maybe, and Slater isn’t perfect, but he’s…great.” Drake smiled again. “Don’t tell him I said that. He’s loyal to a fault, so he’ll never be unfaithful. He’s fantastic with Daisy. Which means that when you have kids, you can be sure they’ll have a wonderful father. He makes those artsy films, but he can rope a calf with the best of ’em. Family means a lot to him, so I’m afraid the Carson bunch is part of the package. Hope that doesn’t bother you.”
“You don’t have to sell him to me.” Grace was amused and also touched. Evidently, Slater wasn’t the only loyal Carson.
When you have kids. Yet another assumption.
“Then just say yes.”
That sounded so simple. “Is there a family debate going on?” Or a bet?
“No, but I think there might be in the future. Wear your nicest nightgown in case we decide to abduct you and haul you in front of the preacher at midnight. This is the wild West, after all.”
He looked like the classic romantic cowboy with his tousled curls and ingenuous blue eyes.
“I’ll keep that in mind, but doesn’t the bride’s family usually do the ‘at gunpoint’ thing?”
“The Carson family can improvise.”
She was sure that in this neck of the woods the Carson family could do just about anything they wanted. They were unquestionably the royalty of Bliss County. “I promise I’ll find a white negligee somewhere,” she said, “if they even make such a thing, but in case everyone has a faulty memory, I’ve been married before. It didn’t work out. And…Slater and I haven’t known each other very long.”
“Not a good argument.” Drake shook his head. “The right woman hasn’t walked into my line of vision yet. I’ll know it when she does.”
“You believe in love at first sight?”
“Damn straight I do, pardon my language.”
He really was that romantic cowboy. And she understood what he was saying. The minute she’d hauled Ryder into Slater’s office and he’d gotten to his feet, she’d been struck by something hard to define and unique in her experience. When she’d met Hank, she’d been attracted to him—his natural air of command had appealed to her—but there was no lightning bolt.
There was a thunderstorm raging on the Carson front. However, operating from logic rather than emotion was the wisest course in her opinion. She told Drake, “She’ll be a lucky lady, whoever she is.”
“I’ll do my best to make her feel that way. If my brother loves you and wants to marry you, he’ll do the same thing. I’ll bring Ryder home tomorrow and take care of Bonaparte. Jax Locke, he’s our vet, will see him after-hours. No one understands more than he does that animals don’t believe in appointments. He’s seen many a sick calf for me in the middle of the night.”
Then he went back to polishing off his risotto.
She had the impression she’d just been given an ultimatum, Wyoming-style.
*
EVEN WHILE CHATTING with the important people who’d help him make this project happen, Slater was acutely aware of Grace. And of course, he noticed his brother talking to her. A lot.
Drake was an action-is-better-than-words sort of guy, so Slater felt a certain amount of trepidation about what their in-depth conversation might be about. Him. That was an obvious conclusion, but Drake was straightforward enough that he was worried she was going to get the full-court press and wondered if he should rescue her.
Oh, wait. She didn’t want him to rescue her.
So he should just leave her to Drake’s tender mercies?
“Terrific party, and everyone seems on board with the film.” Mick Branson’s sophist
icated voice came through loud and clear as he walked up. “Great wine, too. I don’t need another investment project, but your brother’s doing a good job of convincing me without saying a word. Is he open to incorporation? I know a company in California that might be really interested.”
It was Slater’s absolute policy never to speak for anyone else. “I don’t have any idea, but I can set up a meeting if you’re serious.”
Mick looked at him over the rim of his glass. “Slate, when am I not serious? About business, anyway. Your redhead looks gorgeous tonight. Progress?”
Slater didn’t really know the answer to that one, either. “Maybe. I might be planning a wedding cake with her—though I have to admit I don’t care, even if she wants neon pink—but she might just say no. I don’t think we have a ruling yet.”
“Hmm. Sorry to hear that. I can guess you’re getting a bit anxious.” What an understatement. Other than his insistence on being part of Daisy’s life, he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted this. “I’ve asked. Like I said, I’m still waiting for an answer.”
“You’ll be the first to hear.”
“One would hope,” he said with true humor, “but this is a tough negotiation. How was your dinner? Grace will ask me.”
“Very good.”
Mick was conservative when it came to praise, and he’d eaten in high-profile restaurants on most continents. The very meant he was impressed. Slater could see that while Grace had to put up with some rivalry between her chefs, there was a reason she tolerated them. The food at both the resort and the spa was excellent. “She’ll be glad to hear it. Let me know when I should talk to the writers.” He thought regretfully about his lost trip. “I’m scouting location shots in the next few days, one of which will be right here. As you saw in Nathan’s slide show, the old pictures of the hotel are fantastic.”
“Can’t wait to see what you do with this.”
That was also high praise. “If I can top the last one, I’ll be happy, too.”
“You should be. 160 might make you a household name.”
He wasn’t sure about that, but he was sure the party was ending, and he was about to make a major play that might decide his future. “We’ll see. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think Grace is finally free. Thanks for coming.”
Mick grinned as he waved him on, and that was unusual. Mick did not grin. Slater caught up with Grace by the drinks table where she was doing inventory.
He thought about touching her, but decided to stay hands off. Instead, he said from directly behind her, “Meg gets five stars from me. Tell her thanks. Great party.”
Grace turned. “We have a room, don’t we?”
We sounded promising. “I’d complain to the management if that wasn’t true. I reserved one. I’m probably okay to drive, but I’m not taking any chances.”
“Let’s go there now. To your room. Do you mind?” She tossed back that gorgeous hair and gave him a challenging look.
Mind? Had the chef put loco weed in her salad instead of lettuce? She didn’t have to ask him twice. “No, I sure don’t.”
“Don’t do it, Carson.” Grace correctly interpreted his urge to pick her up and cart her out the door. “I work here. I’m the boss, remember? You leave first, I’ll talk to Meg and the staff and tell them they did a great job, and then I’ll join you. Discreetly.”
That was fair enough.
Maybe he was prone to theatrical demonstrations—for obvious reasons—but he understood discreet, too. “I’m in room—”
“You think I couldn’t find out?”
Flattering to be informed that she’d paid attention. “Okay. I’ll be waiting.”
Then she sweetened the deal. “Not for long.”
He could swear both Mace and Drake were laughing and money exchanged hands, but he’d just kill them later. He made last-minute thank-you rounds and took off his suit coat in the elevator; luckily, he was alone. He loosened another button on his shirt as he practically jumped off on his floor, ran to his room and fumbled with his key card to unlock the door. Dropped the card, laughed at himself and on his second try got it right.
Took a deep breath. Walked in…and waited.
Grace was excruciatingly late—if ten minutes even qualified as late.
The light knock finally came and he walked to the door slowly, with dignified restraint. But when he opened it, his first thought was that sexy black dress had to go. He caught her by the waist, pulled her in for a hungry kiss and was happy—no, thrilled—when she said, “I guess we’ll talk later.”
Perfect. Yes. Later.
She didn’t seem to object to the agenda.
A room with a view really meant something when she was part of it. He slipped off her dress and should probably have appreciated her lingerie, but he was in kind of a hurry. Her high heels were tossed aside. He’d planned to mention that she smelled like lilacs, but he was so desperate for her, he doubted he’d make any sense. As they fell onto the bed, he did manage to say, “I love you. I can’t believe it.”
“You need to work on that line.”
He gazed into her eyes. “My problem is that it’s not a line. I was starting to think this wasn’t going to happen in my life.” He kissed her shoulder. “Okay if I don’t use a condom tonight? Say the word and I will.”
She was so incredibly beautiful lying beneath him. “Slater, we both know I’m going to marry you.”
He’d felt it, but knowing was different. It heightened the moment, and that wasn’t what he needed. “You’ll have to work on that line. I think how it usually works is the proposal’s made and then accepted, but…I’ll take what I can get.” A flat-out yes seemed to be an elusive goal. “I hoped you’d eventually agree. But have mercy on me here. I want you now. Right now.”
“The condom is optional.” Her voice was soft.
Maybe that wasn’t the resounding yes he wanted, either, but it was certainly a sign that Grace was looking toward a future that included both of them. Three of them maybe. Plus Daisy, plus Ryder…that was five… And he couldn’t forget Bonaparte. Would he live on the ranch? Then his family would be in the mix, too.
This might get a little complicated, but he was ready to handle it.
He slid his hands beneath her and moved forward into her heat, her acceptance. Grace’s receptive body told him more than any words that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Making love to a woman you loved, a woman who also loved you, was an unrivaled experience, he decided as pleasure flooded through him. He and Grace had a special communion that shook him, and when her hands tightened on his shoulders he got the message without a single word being said.
The aftermath involved more unspoken messages. He had a lot of things to say, but wasn’t sure quite how to say them, so he followed his instincts and kept his mouth shut. Unless he was lightly tasting her nipple, or skimming the arch of her throat and holding her as intimately as possible, because he knew she wouldn’t stay the night.
Correct on that count. Sometime later, she said, “You need to take me home.”
“I will if that’s what you want, but I think your ex is a big boy. If you spend the night with me, he’ll just have to get over it.”
“But Ryder isn’t a big boy. I don’t want to risk leaving him there alone, especially now. More than once, I’ve woken up in the morning to find a note from Hank that said ‘deployed.’ No warnings, no details, nothing.”
He raised himself up on one elbow. “Do you really think he’d take off like that, leave him on his own?”
“I don’t know. Even though Ryder’s only fourteen, he’s easily going to be as tall as you. He looks like an adult, but he isn’t, and I’m not sure Hank understands that. He isn’t used to taking care of him. My point is that since I’m the one Ryder counts on, I should be there. If Hank got orders, he’d just up and go. I’m speaking with the voice of experience here.”
As he searched for his clothes, he reminded himself that this was why he
was convinced she’d be his ideal life partner. Her sense of responsibility, caring, commitment. A woman Ryder could count on. A woman he could count on. Just like she could count on him…
Yes, he’d take her home, which was ironic since she currently lived with her ex, but that wasn’t her choice. He was.
This had been one hell of a happy evening.
Bonaparte was sleeping on the front stoop when he drove up and even approached him to rub against his ankles. Grace told him in astonishment, “I buy his food and he barely lets me pet him.”
“I have a romantic soul.” He kissed her. “I’ve got that on good authority. Bonaparte senses it.”
“Cats and romance? I don’t quite see how they fit together.”
“Think about it. He loves you and I love you, so we’re kindred souls.”
“Slater, I hope we aren’t rushing this.” Her poignant expression tugged at his heart, but she’d agreed to marry him, so…
He kissed her again. “I get it. You don’t want to love me. You don’t want to get married. Mind setting a date for that wedding you’d rather not have? Once Mrs. A orders the ring, everyone will know, and my mother will start making her plans.”
She pushed him away, laughing. “I’m being railroaded.”
“No question there.” He held up his hands. “We’re definitely on a runaway train. Okay, the wedding. How about early November? Autumn’s really beautiful here. And,” he added, “we don’t want to wait too long. You could be pregnant right now.”
Her smile was tremulous. “You must be joking. About getting married so soon…”
“Would I joke about one of the most important things in my life?” Grace fell into the category labeled Essential to Happiness. He said simply, “I know this is very real for me. Very right for me. For us.”
Grace took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve told myself far too often that I didn’t think it over long enough the first time, so I’m choosing to trust your instincts instead of mine. Yes to November, but you have to deal with Mrs. A.”
Once a Rancher Page 20
