Once A Rancher

Since there was no one around to see, Slater punched the air with one fist and muttered, “Yes!”

Ideally, the meeting would be one-on-one. No assistants. No heads of this department or that.

Just Grace and him.

But life was rarely ideal.

Warning himself to rein it in, not to read too much into the unexpected invitation, Slater printed out the confirmation for the other event, his company gathering, filed it and sent the notice to his guests, indicating the time and place—one month from this coming Saturday.

That done, he carefully composed his RSVP to the second get-together.

Of course the email would go straight to Grace’s assistant, someone named Meg, but surely she’d see it, too. He rested his elbows on the desk, that smile still lingering on his mouth, although most of his triumph had subsided, turning into something more fragile, like hope.

He’d sensed, despite the bristling body language and snappy retorts of the night before, that the attraction between him and Grace hadn’t all been on his side.

But maybe he was wrong on that score. Maybe the invitation was exactly what it appeared to be—strictly business.

Slater paused, leaning back in his chair, reflecting. Going by what his brothers had told him about Grace, she’d already given plenty of eager cowboys the brush-off. She was, after all, a busy woman with a demanding job, plus dealing with a troubled teenage boy. While Ryder seemed like an intelligent kid, the smart ones were often the hardest to manage. Throw in a move from one state to another and a career change, and it was no great leap to figure out that romance might not be all that high on Grace Emery’s to-do list.

Come to think of it, getting involved wasn’t really on Slater’s agenda, either. He loved his work, enjoyed dating a wide variety of women, most of whom he met on location, spent as much quality time with his young daughter, Daisy, as possible, and helped his brothers with the ranch and the winery. He figured that was more than enough for one man. And he subscribed to the if-it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it theory. Nope, he wasn’t looking to complicate matters.

Still, some of the best things in life were unplanned.

Like his daughter, Daisy, for instance.

Pensive now, Slater picked up his phone, scrolled down his contact list and hoped he’d catch up with Raine this time around. He’d left two messages already, but his ex-girlfriend, who happened to be the mother of his only child, kept eclectic hours, and her somewhat free-spirited lifestyle often made communication difficult. When she answered, she said with a little laugh, “Well, I guess trouble’s back in town.”

Slater smiled. He’d thought he’d loved Raine, back when they were together, and he knew she’d believed she loved him. And yet they’d always been more friends than lovers. Yes, the sex had been stellar, but they’d both been young and healthy, so it made sense that they’d enjoyed making love. They’d finally realized that they didn’t have what it took to get married and stay that way. “You guess?” he countered mildly, snapping out of his reflective mood. “I’ve sent you a couple of emails and called a few times. Some people would interpret those things as clues to my return.” He spoke in a relaxed tone, used to Raine and her legendary ability to focus on her work, when she chose, to the exclusion of everything and everybody around her—except for their young daughter. “Fortunately, Daisy bothered to get back to me, and we’ve been plotting against you. What are you doing for dinner tonight? I haven’t seen my daughter in two months, if you don’t count that flying visit so I could see her in the school play. And according to Mom, Daisy’s playing softball this summer, so I’ll want to be at as many of her games as I can.” A pause. “Obviously, I have some catching up to do in the father department.”

There was a lilt in Raine’s voice. Predictably, she’d let most of what Slater had said pass. “Dinner?” she echoed. She’d probably been thinking about some project she was working on. “I guess it depends on whether or not Harry’s doing the cooking. Our being available, I mean.”

“Harry is doing the cooking,” Slater confirmed, amused. He’d already worked out an arrangement with the housekeeper. “Unless you’d rather go to a restaurant.”

“And miss one of Harry’s incomparable meals? No way, José.”

He laughed outright, warmed by Raine’s friendship. Their relationship, long over in terms of romance, had been an interesting chapter in his life, an illustration of the old adage that opposites attract. Slater believed in roots, family, tradition, while Raine took a more whimsical approach, but they usually managed to agree on the basics.

Usually.

Slater felt a twinge, remembering. They’d already gone their separate ways, quite peaceably, and been apart for six months or so when Raine had come to see him after a lengthy visit with some New Mexico cousins. She’d been eight months pregnant when she turned up on his doorstep and, while the prospect of becoming a father had brought him up short, once the initial shock was past, he’d been delighted.

Raine was fiercely independent and when she’d discovered she was pregnant she’d never questioned, not for one second, that she wanted the baby. They hadn’t discussed parenthood during their time as a couple, except in the most hypothetical way. Yes, they both liked the idea of having a baby—later. Some vague, undefined later. Maybe that was why she hadn’t informed Slater when she found out, but he’d never once doubted that the child she carried was his.

He’d asked Raine to marry him.

She’d smiled and punched him in the shoulder and said, “Don’t be silly. It wouldn’t work, and we both know it.”

So there’d been no wedding.

And while Slater and Raine had never lived under the same roof, they’d become a sort of family, the three of them. Slater supported Daisy, spent as much time as he could with her, loved her as deeply as any father had ever loved a child. And Raine was equally committed to motherhood.

It was an innovative setup, no denying that, but Slater wouldn’t have changed anything, even if a do-over had been possible.

He’d fought it for a while, had wanted to take the traditional approach. In the end, he knew Raine had been right all along. Daisy was a happy, well-adjusted child. She got excellent grades in school, had numerous friends, was healthy in every way. She had a solid home—two of them, actually—and parents who loved her.

So far, so good.

“Slater?” Raine’s voice was like a friendly poke in the ribs. “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” he replied quietly.

“So what’s on the menu? For dinner, I mean? Not that I care, because everything Harry makes is delicious.”

Slater snapped out of his momentary distraction for the second time in two minutes. He grinned. “I have no idea what Harry’s planning to whip up, but she’s cooking it, not me. So are you going to be here or what?”

“We’ll be there,” Raine said. “Usual time?”

“Yeah. You know Harry and her schedules. This place runs like clockwork.”

“We’ll be prompt. The last time I was late, she claimed the dishwasher was broken and made me do up the whole works while she supervised. Remember?”

He did. “Served you right,” he said.

“Never any sympathy,” Raine accused him. “In fact, you laughed.”

Slater had to laugh again, recalling the incident. “I’ve warned you over and over, sugarplum. Punctuality’s important to Harry. Nobody holds up the program and gets away with it.”

“Well,” Raine said, “her one-of-a-kind garlic mashed potatoes are important to me, so let’s hope she’s serving up a batch of those. Daisy and I will be there at six sharp.”

When Slater ended the call, he texted his mother, which seemed ridiculous since they were in the same house, but such were the oddities of modern life.

Ready to go to the vineyard?

The response was almost instantaneous.

I can’t wait to show you the changes we’ve made. Meet you out front.

Slater stood, his thumbs working on the phone’s keyboard.

By the way, Raine and Daisy will be here for dinner tonight.

We’ll keep it short then. I’ll run into town for ice cream as soon as we’re done.

Walking, Slater keyed in a couple of smiley-face icons, followed by:

I was hoping for those lemon bars Harry bakes.

Already on the menu. But Daisy loves chocolate ice cream, and thanks to your brothers, we’re always out of the stuff.