Once a Rancher by Linda Lael Miller

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.
    â€œSlater?” Raine’s voice was like a friendly poke in the ribs. “Are you still there?”
    â€œI’m still here,” he replied quietly.
    â€œSo 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?”
    â€œWe’ll be there,” Raine said. “Usual time?”
    â€œYeah. You know Harry and her schedules. This place runs like clockwork.”
    â€œWe’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.
    â€œNever 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.”
    â€œWell,” 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.
    Here’s a concept. Why don’t we discuss this in person?
    Blythe immediately replied with an icon of her own, a smiley face sticking out its tongue.
    Slater groaned and dropped his smart—or smart-ass— phone into his shirt pocket.
    This was going to be a good day, and an even better evening, spent with the women he loved—young, old and in-between.
    Raine was still on his mind as he headed for the front of the house. The last time he’d seen her, her shining dark hair bounced around her shoulders,