Once a Rancher Read Online Free PDF Page A

trick here is dealing with our weather and finding vines that can handle the winters and still produce the quality of fruit and yield we’re after. Right now we buy most of our grapes from other states. That’s not unusual, but I’d like to swing the pendulum our way.”
    Slater enjoyed his younger brother’s passion for the wine business because he knew this venture was their mother’s dream as much as it was Mace’s. They were three very different people, he and Mace and Blythe, but he could identify with both of them, since filmmaking and running a successful vineyard were both artistic pursuits. Drake, however, couldn’t have been less interested, down to earth as he was—always active, always on the move. It was almost comical the way animals and kids gravitated toward him. Slater had seen his middle brother at many a picnic or cookout with a toddler on his lap and three dogs belonging to someone else at his feet. He’d be talking away with friends, evidently oblivious to the Doctor Dolittle phenomenon.
    â€œI don’t know much of anything about making wine,” Slater admitted, addressing Mace, “but that sounds like a plan to me. I can grow mold on a piece of cheese in the fridge, and that’s about it. Speaking of wine and cheese, I need to throw a shindig for the investors. They deserve a celebration. I’m thinking the resort would be the perfect venue.”
    Both his brothers laughed, and Drake reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills. He selected one and handed it to Mace. “You win,” he said. “Here’s your ten bucks.”
    * * *
    G RACE PEERED AT her computer screen, blinked a couple of times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. The booking had come in just as she was thinking about taking her lunch, and it was major. Slater Carson’s production company had reserved fifteen of the resort’s best rooms as well as the private dining room, and had requested gourmet menu suggestions and comprehensive spa privileges for its top executives and a number of investors.
    The bill would amount to tens of thousands of dollars. Grace was new enough to the resort-management field to be impressed, although she supposed such expenditures were common in the corporate world.
    Not that Slater struck her as the corporate type; she couldn’t really picture him wearing a suit, giving speeches in some boardroom. He’d looked like a denim and custom-made boots man to her, but then she’d met him only once, and under distinctly awkward circumstances at that. So maybe she’d missed something.
    Still, Grace had good instincts where people were concerned; as a cop, she’d learned to depend on her gut.
    She’d certainly noticed Slater’s easy air of command. He was clearly comfortable with himself, and he was assertive but not overbearing. Otherwise, he would’ve been a lot tougher on Ryder the night before.
    It was a safe bet that Mr. Carson had a clear idea of what he wanted and seldom, if ever, hesitated to go after it.
    She couldn’t help making a few comparisons—and there were undeniable similarities between Slater and Hank, her ex-husband. Both men were strong, single-minded and ambitious.
    There were undeniable differences between them, too.
    Hank, in fact, was not merely ambitious, he was driven, a trait that could seem sexy at first glance; power usually was sexy. She’d been drawn in quickly, despite the practicality that had served her so well on the force. Trouble was, she’d sadly miscalculated her place in the pecking order. On the list of Hank’s priorities, she came in last.
    Even Ryder was low on the figurative totem pole. Hank’s career was number one, and both she and his son were basically distractions. Afterthoughts.
    She’d been wounded by this realization, and she’d been cautious ever since. One major mistake was forgivable; two would constitute