After the Climb (River Rain #1) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,35

much.”

“What you’re saying is, you didn’t want to be without her, so you caved when you know she hated every second of being in the car on the way up here.”

Cookie didn’t seem worse for the wear.

In fact, she had found a cozy nook in the toss pillows on the bed to curl up in before I left for dinner, the very nook she was stretching out of when I returned.

Though Mary reported she’d been vocal the entire way up, and I didn’t think Cookie was sharing her desire to get a better view out the windows.

“Well, hated is a strong word.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I wished he’d quit humming all deep and rumbly like that.

“Listen, Duncan—”

“I have five.”

My head ticked. “Sorry? Five?”

“Animals.” He reached for a chicharron. “Not counting the horses. Three dogs. A cat. And a rabbit.”

He’d always loved animals.

All of them.

Even snakes.

So this did not surprise me.

Though I was probably more relieved than was healthy that he did not share he had a snake, since what would it matter to me if he did?

He started counting them down.

“Shasta, my rescue husky. Rocco, Sully’s tripod silver receiver. Bounce, Gage’s rabbit. Tuck, our cat. And my baby, Killer.”

“Your baby?” I whispered.

“A Peekapoo. Pekingese, poodle mix. She weighs about twelve pounds. Could not believe that score at the shelter. Then again, they all were scores from the shelter.”

He crunched into the chicharron.

“I thought you were a vegetarian,” I noted.

“I avoid meat. I limit intake of products produced from animals, specifically cows and pigs, because cows cause an environmental issue, and the treatment of swine for consumption is unconscionable. Examples, I use almond milk and go for olive oil instead of butter. But I’m not a vegetarian.”

Okay, well that explained that.

“Though, just to say,” he continued, “as proved seconds ago, my conscious isn’t exactly clear since I find it harder to say no to pork because…bacon, and well…” He dipped his head to the chicharrones with his lips twitching.

He’d always leaned toward pork. Even at restaurants, he’d go for a chop rather than a steak.

I didn’t need this memory of how well I knew him.

“You have a twelve-pound girl dog named Killer?” I asked.

“My son Gage has an interesting sense of humor.”

I could not get caught on thoughts of Duncan having a little dog he referred to as his “baby” or a son he spoke of fondly who had an interesting sense of humor.

What I needed to get caught on was guiding us to whatever closure we needed to achieve.

But curiosity got the better of me.

Because he’d always loved horses and always wanted to own one.

“How many horses do you have?”

“Three.”

“Do you ride a lot?”

“Yes, seein’ as I got three horses to exercise and the boys are at school.”

“Where do you ride them?”

He crunched, chewed, swallowed, and said, “’Round my land. I managed to nab ninety acres, though it took me ten years of buying neighbors out.”

“Oh,” I mumbled.

“Most of that butts the National Forest, so we got plenty of space to ride,” he shared.

“That’s great,” I muttered.

And I shouldn’t ask.

I shouldn’t want to know.

It shouldn’t mean anything to me.

But I asked anyway.

Because it meant something to me.

“Your boys are at school?”

He nodded, took a sip of beer, set it aside and reached for another chicharron.

But he didn’t take a bite.

He answered, “Sully’s at Purdue. He’s gonna save the world in ways his old man can’t. He’s studying to be an environmental engineer.”

“Impressive,” I said. And it was. “And Gage?”

“He’s at University of Arizona, and I should have known things were going south when he majored in communications. Mostly, I think he needs to get the wild out of his system before he comes to work for me. They both had jobs at the store throughout high school. But Sully did it because his dad told him he had to. Gage did it because he liked to score chicks who were into hiking, climbing and trail running. But that’s because Gage likes hiking, climbing and trail running. Sully does too, but he’d stop to dig in the dirt. Gage wouldn’t stop until he reached the peak. But after Gage fails out of college, gets sick of being a river rafting guide or some shit like that, and gets serious, he’ll come work for me.”

“You’re sure of that?”

He shrugged, ate his chicharron, and answered, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is, whatever he chooses, he’s happy.”

So…

Duncan was not his father’s son.

Duncan’s dad was a plumber.

And I never sat a meal at their house—and I sat many meals