The crunch of tire against gravel had her turning toward a dusty, black SUV. A tall man with a white Stetson climbed out and she immediately recognized Ranger Winchester, Jo’s husband. Not Bragg. Relief rushed over her like a burst of cold air.
The Ranger settled his hat on his head and moved toward the tasting room with a quick impatient stride. She’d noticed the way he watched Jo, lean, hungry, impatient, as if he could barely keep his hands off his wife. He adored her.
She opened the door for him. “Welcome, Ranger Winchester.”
He glanced at her and grinned. “Ms. Templeton. Good evening. I’m guessing my better half has paved the way for me.”
His easy smile had her relaxing as she extended her hand. “She has sung your praises.”
He took her hand. “So I hear you’re the one throwing the party tonight.”
“I’m one of many players.” She glanced inside toward Jo who laughed with a young couple. “Your wife knows everyone.”
“That’s my Jo.” He glanced beyond her as if trying to glimpse his wife.
“I’ve seen her glancing toward the door. I think she’s been waiting for you. Glad you could make it.”
He winked. “She’s the only one slippery enough to rope me into one of these parties. No offense.”
“None taken.” He must be aware of Rory’s murder. The Rangers were a small, elite group. For a moment she stood tense, waiting for a question. When none came to breach the growing silence, she was tempted to ask him about Bragg, but quickly decided that could lead to trouble. “The food is worth the crowd.”
“Well, seeing as I never say no to food, I’ll dive into the hornet’s nest. Wish me luck.”
“Luck.” When he vanished into the building, she thought for a moment the evening would end without any great drama. She might walk away in one piece and sane.
The crunch of boots against gravel had her turning and wondering why she’d not heard another car drive up. She saw Bragg making his way up the drive straight toward her.
Chapter Ten
Wednesday, June 4, 8 P.M.
He stood tall, his white Stetson settled squarely on top of his head. He wore dark pants, a white shirt, a string tie, and black snakeskin boots. Whereas Winchester moved with impatience, Bragg’s stride radiated caution.
She rubbed suddenly damp palms together and then forced herself to relax. “Ranger Bragg, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
Surprise, and then a hint of appreciation flickered from his gaze as he reconciled her voice with her appearance. She allowed pride and was glad to know she could still garner appreciation. There’d been a time when she’d lived to turn a man’s head. She’d spent hours primping and pampering. If this had been twelve years ago, she’d have considered herself severely underdressed.
He moved to within inches of her. Soap mingled with a masculine scent. “Ranger Winchester told me about it. I hear his wife was talking this party up.”
“I’m glad you could join us.”
He arched a brow. “Are you?”
“Of course.” Tempted to take a step back, she stood her ground. The scar on his face caught her attention before she wrestled it free. “We’ve a nice Merlot and a Chardonnay at the bar.”
If he sensed her nerves, he wasn’t inclined to ease them. “Afraid I’m more of a beer man.”
His tone was light and easy but the idea of relaxing around him was downright foolish. Even sleeping rattlers were dangerous snakes. “Tell the bartender. We’ve several local beers behind the bar as well.”
“A vineyard owner drinks beer?”
“We can be quite the beer drinkers.” She extended her arm toward the tasting room. She wanted to shoo him into the tasting room far away from her. “The food’s also delicious.”
Instead of leaving, he held his ground, but his gaze moved to the party. “You got a lot of fancy folks in there.”
“They dress up well, but they’re exactly like the rest of us.”
“First time you’ve seen a lot of these folks in a while?”
He’d been asking around about her. “That’s right.”
“How’s it going?”
“About as well as you could expect. I’m sure my ears will be burning for a week or two and then people will forget about me. I’m the flavor of the week.”
“I doubt they’ll forget you.” An edge sharpened his words.
Her heart beat faster. “You overestimate me.”
“Rory Edwards didn’t forget you.”
The statement hit her square in the chest like a one-two punch. “No, he did not. Have you found out what happened to Rory?”
“Still working on it. His brother didn’t have many nice words to say about you.”
“No, I don’t suppose David did.” The last time she’d spoken to David was when she’d shown up at Rory’s house. Her aunt had driven her there right after she’d left Shady Grove. David had answered the door. She couldn’t remember the entire conversation, but it ended along the lines of: they didn’t need her kind of trouble. “I was young and very upset the last time I spoke to him.”
“You made a hell of an impression on him.”
She refused to attach to the anger and frustration building in her. “If you are here to enjoy the party, then please do so. But if you’re here to dig up my past, I’m not going to play tonight. I’ve made a commitment to raise money for the Crisis Center and I won’t be effective if you reduce me to tears.”
His eyes sparked with humor. “You don’t look like you’re about to cry to me.”
“Don’t believe it.”
He shook his head. “You’re one tough gal, Ms. Templeton. I bet you do exactly what needs to be done no matter how tough the job.”
“That good or bad?”
“Suppose that depends on what job needs to be done.” He studied her a beat. And then as if rethinking his line of questioning, he said, “How’s Mitch doing?”
“Quiet. But a hard worker. I like the kid.”
“Why?”
She shook her head. “He’s patient and kind with the animals. Beauty is not an easy horse, but he keeps his cool no matter how difficult she can be.”
He rested his hand on his hip inches from his badge. “Tell me why you hired Mitch.”
Insistence underscored his words, and she had the sense he’d not take her standard line of making the world a better place. She shoved out a breath and opted for the pure truth. “He reminds me of myself.” And my brother.
“How so?”
“I know he served in Iraq and he saw some bad stuff. I know he lost friends. I also know the kind of pain that goes with losing someone you love. I thought I could give him a place to heal.”
“What makes you an expert?”
“In all honesty, I don’t know if what I’m doing is right. But sitting around and isolating himself is not doing him a bit of good. Working with the animals helped me. Spending hours in the vineyard pulling weeds and picking grapes gave me a focus. I thought it might help him.”
He glanced toward the empty corral. “My nephew is not a project to make you feel better about yourself.”
“No. No, he is a young man who needs time to heal.”
“And when he’s better, you’ll cut him loose?” Anger edged the words.
“He may cut me loose. He may wake up one morning and feel like his old self and take off. I have no idea what’s going to happen. Like I said, I don’t have a master plan.”
Bragg didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who had a family. She couldn’t imagine him living in a house with the white picket fence. “You must have been young when Mitch was born.”
“He’s my older sister’s boy. She was nineteen. I was fifteen.”
No elaboration. Mitch had said she’d died three years ago. Her death had left a hole in their lives. As much as Greer wanted to ask, she didn’t. Tec Bragg’s personal life was none of her business, even if it intrigued her. “Mitch is a good kid.”