Free Once a Rancher by Linda Lael Miller Page B

him to Ms. Emery, but Slater had the feeling she liked him well enough that he was safe.
    If he had to call it, he’d venture a guess that she liked down-home cowboys more than high-powered executives.
    Or was that wishful thinking?
    There’d been no mention of the dinner invitation he’d received in his email that morning. Slater decided not to let that worry him. Yet.
    â€œPleased to meet you, Mr. Branson.” Grace shook Mick’s hand and sat down. “I’m the resort manager. I know you’ve spoken to my assistant, Meg, on the phone. I hope everything’s going smoothly.”
    â€œSo far, absolutely. Pretty place.” Branson sat down, as well.
    â€œI’m glad you think so.”
    Slater took a seat next to Grace. He wasn’t implying any kind of personal relationship...well, maybe he was. There was no doubt that most men looked at Grace just as Slater did, with pure male appreciation. “Mustang Creek is off the beaten path, which makes it a great place to relax and do business without distractions.”
    Mick looked out the window at the spectacular view of the Tetons, and then deliberately back at Grace. “I don’t know. The gorgeous scenery is a little distracting.”
    â€œNice line,” Slater said drily. “I’m going out on a limb here and saying the lady’s heard it before.”
    Branson smiled his enigmatic smile. “You’re probably right,” he conceded.
    Grace laughed and shook her head at the two of them, but a small smile played on her mouth.
    Mick turned to Slater. “So tell me, now that the project’s wrapped, what direction do you want to take next?”
    Slater was seriously contemplating that Wyoming angle, the one his brother had suggested. After a young man came to take their order, a beer for him and a bourbon on the rocks for Branson, then left again, he answered. “What would you think of a saga about the pioneers who settled this area? The locale is gorgeous, as you just pointed out, and there are quite a few people I know personally with family stories to tell. So far, most of the films have focused on historical events and they’ve had what I’d like to think is a sweeping view of American history. What about a focus on how a small Wyoming town was settled and how it survived, changed, modernized, and what it’s like today?”
    â€œYou mean Mustang Creek.” Mick appeared thoughtful, rubbing his jaw. “That’s an interesting idea. And certainly your family has a lot of history here. I like the personal angle. If you’ll come up with a proposal and include a few visuals, I’ll look at it and present it to my associates for consideration.” Mick, as it turned out, ran a sizeable investment firm, specializing in film and music.
    That was all Slater could ask for. At present, the vision in his head was just a starting point, a scant outline of what the production might become, but this was how projects began. “Sounds good.”
    â€œFor someone like me who’s relocated here, that would be very intriguing,” Grace chimed in as their drinks arrived. She took a sip of water. “You know, the resort was built about fifteen years ago, but before that there was an old hotel here, as I’m sure Slater remembers. The owner told me that although he’d thought about renovating, it actually made more sense from a business standpoint to tear it down and build a modern facility that would accommodate a spa. However, there are loads of boxes down in the basement with pictures of famous guests, the former hotel itself, antique skis, even the old bar, which would be a beauty if it was refinished. There are also clippings from newspapers as far away as Denver, Helena and, of course, Cheyenne. I just glanced at them, wondered why he hadn’t donated them to the historical society, and got out of there as quickly as possible. They built this right on the