Once a Rancher by Linda Lael Miller Page A

minor in business. My dad was a police officer in Seattle. He’s retired now, but back then he was at the top of his game. I admired him, so I followed in his footsteps. After about five years on the job, I decided to get a master’s degree in hospitality management on the evenings I was off duty. I’d taken a hotel management class as an elective while I was an undergrad, because I thought it would be an easy A. It wasn’t, not at all. Still, I kept thinking about it, and I wondered if down the line I might want to change careers. Plus, by then, my marriage was getting rocky, and I needed something else to think about.”
    Slater’s expression indicated that he understood. Maybe he did.
    She turned the conversation back to him. “So, since the subject came up, why a film producer?”
    He shrugged, his expression casual. “Same story to a certain extent. Took a film production class on a whim and got hooked. I worked various jobs as I was learning, including sound, cameras, even helped put up sets and that’s a physical job, so it suited me. All of it suits me. I grew up out of doors and that’s mostly where we film.” He paused. “And that’s a perfect segue as to why I’m here. I promised Ryder I’d run this by you. I hope I’m not putting you on the spot, but I talked to him about doing some chores on the ranch. Only if you agree, of course.”
    She wasn’t sure what to say. He was putting her on the spot. If she said yes, Ryder might get hurt or find new ways of getting into trouble. If she said no, and the boy had his heart set on doing this, she’d be the ultimate villain.
    As often happened, Slater seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. “If you want to teach that kid real discipline, stick him in a stall with a pitchfork and a wheelbarrow. It’s hard physical work, and he’ll have to learn how to deal with the animals. Ryder told me he wants to ride, so part of his compensation would be riding lessons. My mother will also check his homework regularly, and she’s the most demanding yet gentle critic I’ve ever run across.” He shifted slightly on the desk. “Feel free to get second and third opinions from Mace and Drake on that score.” A pause, another shrug. “Look at it this way. It’ll keep him busy.”
    Grace figured there were several additional ways to look at that offer. There was, for instance, the deliciously dangerous possibility that Slater was trying to get to her through Ryder—but, alas, her highly developed instincts said otherwise.
    Still, his intentions toward her were precisely what she’d imagined in that dream; she was sure of it. But she was equally sure that Slater wasn’t using Ryder to get there. The cowboy code wouldn’t have allowed that.
    â€œI hope your mother’s up for a challenge, because my stepson will definitely be one.” She might have spoken forcefully, but she was already caving. After all, part of Ryder’s problem was a lack of supervision. She worked too many evenings.
    It wasn’t her fault, or Ryder’s; it was just life.
    At least now he had Bonaparte to keep him company, but the cat couldn’t be expected to nag him into doing his homework. Couldn’t provide what Ryder needed most—a strong masculine influence in his life.
    Slater eased his hip off the desk. Stood. “Mom raised three rowdy boys. Mace and Drake were a handful, always arguing over something. They haven’t changed much, to tell you the truth.”
    â€œYou, I suppose, were an angel,” Grace remarked, raising her eyebrows.
    He grinned. “No comment,” he said. “Anyway, if you’re okay with this, Ryder can take the bus to the stop closest to the ranch and walk the rest of the way. It isn’t far. In bad weather he’ll just have to do what we did and bundle up. I’ll expect him to do a good job, of