Cherished (Steel Brothers Saga #17) - Helen Hardt Page 0,12
think Ashley should be focused on her internship.”
“I agree,” I say gruffly.
“What makes you think she’s not?” Mom queries.
“I didn’t say that,” Dad argues.
“She’s certainly entitled to a social life.”
Dad stiffens slightly. Only slightly, but I see it in his facial muscles. This bothers him, and I don’t have a clue why.
It bothers me too. A lot. But why should it bother Dad?
I wipe my lips with my napkin and rise. “I need to get back to work.”
“You left half your sandwich,” Mom says.
“Not that hungry.” No lie there. The thought of Ashley and Brendan Murphy effectively killed my appetite.
“Honey…” Mom begins.
“Let him go, blue eyes.”
Yeah, Dad gets me. He knows when I need to leave a situation.
He knows when I need to think, or when I need to be alone.
And now, more than ever, I want to know exactly how he knows.
I’ll figure it out. Somehow. But at the moment?
I’m going to find Ashley and do whatever I must to make sure she never sees Brendan Murphy again.
Chapter Nine
Ashley
Cutting clusters of ripe grapes from a vine is harder than I imagined it could be. I didn’t realize how sore I was from yesterday’s work until I began doing it again this morning. Now, having just finished lunch, I’m at it again, sweat dripping from my brow even though it’s not even seventy degrees outside.
Dale’s still in Denver. What would he think if he knew I’m having dinner with another guy tonight? Dinner and a bottle of Château Latour?
I wipe my forehead with the back of my leather-gloved hand.
He won’t care.
As much as it hurts, I have to face reality.
He won’t freaking care.
I hold the cluster of grapes gently in my hand and then cut the stem with my sharp pruning shears. Next, I lay the fruit gently in the trays sitting next to me.
Other harvesters work diligently—and a lot faster than I do. I’m all theory and no practice as far as this step in winemaking goes. Sure, I’ve had classes about what I’m doing, but I’ve never actually participated in the process until now.
I hold back a chuckle. Dale would be loving this. He’d expect much more from a doctor of wine.
Is he back from Denver yet? I have no idea. Jade told me at breakfast that she expected them back today, but she didn’t say when. Then she and I both went off to work, and I’ve heard nothing since.
Does Dale ever participate in the harvesting? He must. As far as he’s concerned, these vines are his.
Of course, these aren’t the Syrah vines. I’m cutting Cabernet Sauvignon grapes today. I remove another cluster from the vine and lay it gently alongside the others. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my forearm and begin again.
“Good work.”
I nearly jump out of my jeans. That gruff low voice. I know it better than I know my own. The dark-red color of it warms me and chills me simultaneously.
I turn and meet Dale’s green gaze. “Thank you. It’s more difficult than I imagined.”
“Some things you can’t learn from a book,” he counters.
I don’t reply. He’s right. I simply nod and turn back toward the vines.
“You’re done here,” he says.
I turn back to face him. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I need you for the tasting.”
“There’s no tasting today.”
“No, but tomorrow we’re doing the lunch and tasting, and I have to get you prepped.”
“Can’t we do that tomorrow morning?”
Dale draws in a breath and then exhales slowly. His nostrils flare slightly. Is he angry? Angry that I’m questioning him?
Finally, “No. We’ll do it now.”
“All right, then.” I set my cutting tool down, remove my gloves, and place them in the bucket with the others. Then I follow Dale out of the vineyards to his truck.
He opens the passenger door for me. “Get in.”
I smile more sweetly than I’m feeling. “Thank you.”
He starts the engine, and we drive for a few moments in silence.
Then I turn to him. “How was Denver?”
“Fine.”
“And your brother?”
“Also fine.”
“Your dad?”
“What is this? Some grand inquisition?”
“Just making conversation.”
“We’re all fine.”
But the tension in his jawline says otherwise. Talon and Donny may be fine, but Dale most certainly isn’t.
My instinct is to ask what’s wrong. Already, though, I know he won’t answer.
Don’t push.
I hear the words in Jade’s voice.
I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Three p.m. I’ll need to be done here by six to get back to the house, clean up, and then meet Brendan for our dinner at seven thirty.