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all in. Oh, and I added a few more to the list that Simon West with the different-flavored schnapps told me about. Someone who might be interested in making jellies and some guy out way beyond the old Fitzgerald ranch who’s dabbling in wine making. I’ll check them out if you want me to.”
    Mason fidgeted under Dean’s odd stare. “What?” he asked.
    “Damn.” Dean shook his head. “Just damn. Everyone on that list has already turned me down at least once. And you change the minds of seven of them in one afternoon?”
    “Maybe they’ve just had some time to think about it,” Mason suggested. He had no idea what he’d done differently, but as long as Dean was happy with his work, then Mason was happy.
    “Yeah. Or maybe I was a genius for hiring you. Go let the kid beat you. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

Chapter 4

     
    M ASON WOKE up disoriented. It was dark in the room, and the only sound he could hear was the wind howling outside. He was toasty warm under the covers, and just the thought of having to get up made him groan. Then he heard it and knew what had woken him—a timid knock on his door.
    “Yes?”
    There was no reply, just another knock.
    “Come in.”
    The door slowly opened, but the weak light from the hallway was not enough to reveal who it was. Not that it could be anyone but Dean, but why the hell didn’t he just say something? Mason sat up and reached for the light.
    It was not Dean standing in the doorway in Spider-Man pajamas, however.
    “Morning, Wyatt.”
    Never much of a talker, Wyatt padded across the floor and grabbed the sleeve of Mason’s long-sleeved T-shirt and pulled.
    “Ready for breakfast?” Mason was mildly amused when he let Wyatt drag him from the warm covers.
    They weren’t headed for the kitchen, though. Wyatt stopped outside the master bedroom where Dean resided and looked up at Mason, all wide eyes, messy curls, and pale cheeks. “He won’t wake up.”
    Immediately alarmed, Mason pushed the door open, but turned to face Wyatt before going inside. “Can you dress yourself?”
    Wyatt nodded.
    “Good boy. Go put on your clothes, and then I’ll be right down to make breakfast, okay?”
    Mason received another nod and watched Wyatt disappear into his room a few doors down the hall. Then he took a deep breath and stepped into Dean’s dark bedroom. He wasn’t dead—that much Mason could tell from the sound of breathing. But he could be sick or something—knocked out from staying up all night and getting drunk. No. He wouldn’t do that with Wyatt around, would he?
    “Dean? Dean, wake up. You’re freaking out Wyatt. Dean?”
    When there was no reaction at all, Mason felt around the bedside table until he found the light switch. He turned it on and discovered Dean twisted in his covers, his hair and T-shirt drenched in sweat.
    “Dean?”
    A hand on his forehead confirmed what Mason suspected. Dean was sick—burning up, actually. At Mason’s touch Dean mumbled incoherently and turned his head. His weakened state tugged at Mason’s heart strings.
    Mason sighed, realizing that he’d just been named official babysitter and nurse at the Walker ranch. So where to start? He decided to get dressed first. Then he brought his own covers into Dean’s bedroom where he replaced the damp ones twisted around Dean. He refilled the empty water glass on the bedside table and figured Dean was going to be okay for a while. He’d have to make Wyatt breakfast, and then he’d have to locate Old Joe or whoever needed to know that the boss was out of commission.
    The last part turned out to be easier than expected. Mason was walking down the stairs when there was a knock on the door. Wyatt appeared from the kitchen and looked up at him.
    “It’s okay. You can open the door,” Mason told him.
    Old Joe was standing outside, snow falling softly behind him. “Morning, little man. Is your daddy around? Or Mason?”
    “Morning, Joe. It’s good to see you again.” Mason