Awakened

by HELEN HARDT

  I only made it through a semester of college. My grades were good, but it wasn’t for me. I need to be outside. Being in a classroom made me feel boxed in, reminded me of a time in my life better left in the past. I made it through high school—I didn’t have that choice—but college was just too much.

  I need to be in large spaces. Around living things other than people.

  That’s where I’m as close as I’ll ever get to peace.

  I dress quickly in jeans, a green button-down, and one of my better pairs of cowboy boots. My hair has a natural wave and falls below my shoulders. It’s thick and blond and perpetually a mess. I like it that way, but tonight I promised Mom I’d get it under control.

  I use the blow dryer until it’s only slightly damp and then pull it back into a low ponytail, securing it with a leather band.

  I chuckle at my reflection. This is so not me.

  Still, I look good.

  Looks were never an issue for Donny and me. We were pretty little boys, which is probably the biggest reason we were…

  I sigh.

  I really don’t want to go there tonight.

  I don’t want to go there ever.

  I’m fairly good at keeping things at bay, and on the occasion where I need some help, I go see Aunt Mel. She’s been my therapist for twenty-five years now. She’s retired now, at sixty-five, but she always has time for me.

  No Aunt Mel tonight, though. No time. I’m expected for dinner in—I check my watch—a half hour. Time to walk over.

  My rescue dog, Penny—black all over except for cookies-and-cream paws—follows at my heels.

  “Gotta go, girl.” I pet her soft head. “Back in a few hours.”

  I leave out the back door and head up the path to the main house.

  I breathe deeply.

  Nothing like fresh air to heal what ails you.

  I like having my own place but still being close to my parents. They saved Donny and me twenty-five years ago. If not for them and the help they got us, I have no idea what might have become of us.

  Even considering my past, I never forget how lucky I am.

  I don’t dwell on it. I don’t let it rule me.

  Still, I stumble occasionally, when the dark part of me that I’ve buried creeps to the surface. It happens less and less.

  And I won’t let it happen tonight.

  I reach the back door of the main house and walk up the stairs of the large redwood deck and through the French doors leading into the airy country kitchen.

  “Hey, Darla,” I say to the cook.

  “Hi, Mr. Dale.” She looks up briefly from the stove and meets my gaze.

  I head down the small staircase to the family room and find my father at the bar. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, son. Join me in a Peach Street?”

  “You know the answer to that one.”

  I’m not a big drinker of anything other than wine, but I love Peach Street bourbon, which is made right here on the western slope. It’s my dad’s favorite.

  He pours us each a double.

  “Is Dee home yet?”

  “She and her friend arrived about a half hour ago. They wanted to freshen up after the long drive.”

  “I’ll have one of those.” My youngest sister, Brianna, walks down the stairs to join us.

  “Barely twenty-one, and she loves the stuff.” My father smiles.

  Brianna gives me a quick hug. “Hey, bro. How’re you doing?”

  “Good. Same as yesterday.” I squeeze her back.

  I’m not a hugger, but I have a soft spot for my sisters. Diana was born shortly after Donny and I came to Steel Ranch, and Brianna four years later. Both adorable and energetic, they helped me see something beautiful in the world when I needed to most.

  Both of my sisters favor my father—tall, with dark hair and eyes—but Brianna more so. She’s a miniature Talon Steel in female form. Watching them drink Peach Street bourbon together always makes me smile. Diana can’t stand the stuff.

  “Ready to go back to school?” I ask.

  “I suppose so. I already feel senioritis setting in.”

  “You made it a lot further than I did.”

  “You can still go back, Dale.” She takes a sip of her drink.

  “Not my thing.”

  “Leave your brother alone,” Dad says. “He’s learned more from Uncle Ry than he’d ever learn in a college classroom.”

  Indeed. The vines were my teachers, and Ryan my advisor. I didn’t need some stupid degree to show the world I knew everything about the wine business and winemaking.

  “At least I’m only in Grand Junction,” Bree says. “Why did Donny have to go all the way to Denver?”

  “Denver’s hardly far, baby girl,” Dad says. “And that’s where all the big firms are.”

  “I know.” Bree pushes out her lower lip. “I miss him.”

  “We all do,” Dad agrees.

  I do, most of all. Donny was my only companion during those months of horror. Other than Dad, he’s the closest to me.

  “Speaking of college, though,” Bree continues, “this friend of Dee’s is getting a doctorate in wine. I never knew there was such a thing.”

  “It’s called oenology,” I say.

  “I know that,” she snaps. “I just didn’t realize there were doctors of wine.”

  “You can be a doctor in just about anything,” Dad says. “Mom and Donny are doctors of jurisprudence.”

  “I know that,” she snaps again. “The two of you give me credit for being so stupid.”

  Dad laughs. “Baby girl, if there’s one thing you’re not, it’s stupid. We’re just teasing you. You’re the one who didn’t think a person could get a doctorate in wine.”

  “I just meant…” She huffs. “Oh, never mind.”

  I laugh a little myself. Bree never stays upset for long. She’s always quick to take offense but also quick to get over it.

  “I actually agree with you, Sis,” I say. “I learned more from Uncle Ry than anyone could have taught from any textbook.”

  “You sound a little skeptical,” Dad says.

  “Honestly? I am. Uncle Ry says I’m supposed to train this woman. Train her? If she’s nearly a”—air quotes—“doctor in wine, shouldn’t she be training me?” I roll my eyes.

  “You’re the best,” Bree says, taking another sip of her bourbon. “Everyone says so, especially Uncle Ry.”

  “My point exactly,” I say. “I got where I am without a doctorate in anything.” Other than hard knocks, but that’s another story.

  “You have a lot of natural talent in the area,” Dad says, “plus you had your uncle guiding you. Not everyone has an uncle who’s a master winemaker.”

  “Still, I—” I interrupt myself to stare at the top of the short staircase.

  A woman stands there.

  Light-blond hair, blue eyes, glowing tan skin.

  A California girl.

  So striking.

  Damn.

  This is her. The wine doctor.

  Chapter Three

  Ashley

  Diana’s nowhere in sight, but I recognize the three people standing at the bar in the family room.

  The older man—he’s tall, dark-haired with some gray at the temples and sprinkled throughout. Silvery stubble laces his strong jawline. Talon Steel, Diana’s father.

  The young woman—tall with dark hair and eyes. Slightly taller than Diana herself, and even more of a clone of their father. Brianna Steel, Diana’s younger sister.

  Both worthy of my focus, but the third outshines them by far.

  The blond man—taller even than his father, warm honey hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck but looking more like it wants to escape. It’s grown long since the photo I saw of him. Masculine jawline laced with sandy stubble.

  But his eyes.

  A green so clear and true, perhaps brought out even further by the green shirt he’s wearing.

  Bells ring inside my head.
A bell choir playing holiday carols. That’s the sound of his eyes.

  Dale Steel.

  He’s even better-looking in person.

  I clear my throat. “Hi there.”

  “Come on down,” Talon says. “You must be Ashley.”

  I walk down slowly, hoping I don’t stumble. I reluctantly look away from Dale. Otherwise, I can’t help staring. “I am. Thank you for having me.”

  “We’re happy to. I’m Talon Steel, Diana’s father.” He holds out his hand. “This is my daughter Brianna and my son Dale.”

  Brianna pulls me into a hug. Is this a family of huggers?

  God, I hope not.

  “Great to meet you,” she says. “We’re all excited to have you here. Except, of course, I’m leaving next week to go back to school.”

  “Right. You go to Mesa?”

  She nods. “One more year.”

  “What are you studying?”

  “Agriculture.”

  “So you’ll work here on the ranch, then?”

  “I’ll work with my dad in the orchards,” she says.

  Talon chuckles. “The only one of four children who shares my interest.”

  Dale stays quiet. Finally, I gaze his way, the bell choir in my head deafening. It’s like that when I encounter a color I’ve never seen before. It usually gets under control within a half hour or so.

  “Hello,” I say shyly.

  “Hi.”

  I nearly lose my footing. Thank goodness I’m standing next to the bar. Gives me something to lean on.

  One word.

  Hi.

  And I’m jelly.

  His voice is rich and deep, the color of the darkest red wine made with the Syrah grape. My favorite of all the reds.

  Unreal.

  If possible, he just became even more attractive to me.

  His lips are full and gorgeous, but he doesn’t smile. Nor does he move. No hugger there. Just as well. My senses would be overcome.

  “I hear we’ll be working together,” I say, willing my voice not to crack.

  “Yes.”

  God, another one-word response, and that gorgeous deep red flows over me and into me. I thank the universe again for the bar I’m leaning on.

  What the hell am I going to do when I have to have an actual conversation with this guy? The dark red will be so pronounced, it will threaten to overtake my mind and body.

  “Can we get you a drink?” Brianna asks.

  I jerk out of the garnet haze. “What are you drinking?”

  “Peach Street bourbon. It’s Dad’s favorite. Mine too. It’s distilled here on the western slope.”

  “Then I guess I should try it,” I say, forcing a smile.

  “You got it.” Talon pours me two fingers of the dark-amber liquid and hands me the glass. “I suppose you normally drink wine.”

  “Wine is my passion, but I like some of the liquors too. Bourbon and Tequila mostly. I never drink beer.” I take the glass, my hands trembling slightly. I’m still overwhelmed by the deep-red color of Dale’s voice, even though he’s only spoken two words since I entered the room.

  I’m a color and sound synesthete for the most part, but sometimes my emotions have colors and flavors as well, and sometimes tastes have sounds. Wine especially. Colors have sounds, always, and sometimes, sounds have colors. It’s usually the other way around. For me, not all sounds have colors.

  But Dale Steel’s voice sure does. Even now, the deep red surrounds him, and he hasn’t spoken again.

  I take a sip of the bourbon, and six eyes—including those bell-choir-green ones—are staring at me.

  I let it float on my tongue for a moment and then swallow. Nice. Smoky and spicy and not a hint of harshness.

  Still, all eyes are on me.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Well…?” Brianna asks.

  “Uh…well, what?”

  “What do you think? Of the bourbon? Of course, it’s not technically bourbon because it isn’t made in Bourbon County, Kentucky. But Colorado calls corn whiskeys bourbons anyway. You know, kind of like the sparkling wines in California are called champagne, but they’re not really champagne?”

  I smile. “You know a little about wine.”

  “You can’t grow up here without absorbing a little by osmosis. Dale started working with Uncle Ry before I was even born, so he brought home all kinds of wine knowledge. Didn’t you, Dale?”

  “Yeah.”

  God, another word in that voice. Such a smooth and deep red with a hint of black, like a black raspberry.

  Does he ever answer with more than one word?

  Damn.

  I’ll be spending my days with this man. This man and his voice. We’ll have to talk, which means he’ll have to speak.

  And I’ll be jelly in human form.

  “Hey, guys!” Diana finally appears at the top of the short staircase. “You’re not giving Ash too hard a time, are you?”

  Talon waves his hand. “Come on down, sweetheart, and join us for a pre-dinner cocktail.”

  Diana goes to her father first and gives him a big hug. “I’ve missed you. I hated being away all summer.” She turns to Bree. “You too, squirt.”

  “I’m taller than you.” Bree launches herself into Diana’s arms for a hug.

  Yeah. God. Huggers.

  Diana lets go of Bree and walks to Dale. “Hey, big brother.”

  He smiles.

  God, he smiles!

  His whole face lights up like a brilliant night sky.

  So handsome. So striking. So jubilant the sound of his smile.

  Dale circles his arms around Diana and gives her a hug.

  Man, she’s lucky. I get the feeling Dale doesn’t hug a lot of people. I’m not the jealous type. I mean, seriously. Why envy what someone else has? There’s another guy around the corner. Always.

  But the feeling lodged like a knife in my gut is new to me.

  Jealousy.

  I want to be in Dale’s arms.

  Dale, who I don’t know from Adam, and who’s spoken all of three words since I arrived.

  “Good to see you, Sis,” he says, easing into the embrace.

  Diana pulls back. “I think I’ve missed you most of all.”

  “Hey!” Bree whines.

  “You know what I mean. Dale and I have always been close.”

  They have? News to me. Of course I’ve only known Dee for a little over a month. I’ll have to ask her about that comment.

  “When’s Mom get home?” Diana asks.

  “Any minute now,” Talon says. “We’re eating out on the deck. It’s a gorgeous Indian summer day. We can watch the sunset.”

  A Colorado sunset.

  I’ve heard they’re unequaled.

  But nothing can possibly be more beautiful—and symphonic—than Dale Steel.

  Chapter Four

  Dale

  A California girl. Blond, blue-eyed, and from what I can tell by looking at her in jeans and a simple T-shirt, she probably looks amazing in a bikini.

  What’s a California oenologist doing here in Colorado, anyway? California is the biggest producer of wine in the country. She can learn a lot more there, being taught by someone else. Some egghead with a degree like hers.

  Not a loner who doesn’t have a clue what an oenology professor pontificates about.

  Still, I’ve produced my share of excellent wines without ever cracking a book. Uncle Ry says I’m a natural. Whatever. All I know is I get the vines. They speak to me in their own special way. When I was a young teenager, I used to sleep in the vineyards under the stars. Dad came with me the first couple of times, but once he convinced Mom I was perfectly safe out there, he stopped tagging along.

  My dad has always understood me in a way my mother doesn’t. He gets my need for solitude, my joy in the outdoors.

  Nothing is more beautiful than a Colorado night in the vineyards. We’re far enough from the big cities that we don’t have the pollution hiding the stars. I see t
hem all. They shine down on me, protecting me from…

  From what?

  I’m safe here. I’ve always been safe here. I’m thirty-five, in great shape, and strong as an ox.

  I’m pretty safe everywhere.

  But never do I feel safer than I do in the vineyards, veiled in the light of the stars.

  My mom appears at the top of the stairs. “I’m home, Talon.”

  “Hey, blue eyes.”

  My dad has always called my mom blue eyes. She does have the most beautiful sapphire-blue eyes. Neither Diana nor Brianna inherited them. Dee doesn’t care so much, but Bree covets them. They’re both dark-eyed like Dad.

  My brother and I, of course, don’t share any genetic material with our parents. We never knew who our real father was, and I hardly remember my mother. We don’t have any photos of her. But her eyes were brown. A light brown. I remember that. Donny and I both have green eyes, though his are more hazel and mine a clear green. They must have come from our father.

  For a while, when I was a kid, before my mother died, I’d imagine a handsome green-eyed man riding up on a white horse and rescuing Donny and me. Not that we had it bad with our mother, but we lived very modestly, and she had to leave us alone a lot to go to work.

  That’s what inevitably led to…

  I shake my head to clear it.

  Not going there. Not tonight.

  I’m having dinner with my family. This is a happy occasion.

  Tomorrow, when I have to train surfer girl—that’s when I can dwell on other shit. God. Three months of having to talk to someone else.

  Someone blond and beautiful, at that.

  Ashley is so not my type.

  In all honesty, I don’t really have a type. I like to look, but I hardly ever touch. My little brother has the opposite issue. All he does is touch. He doesn’t even bother to look first half the time.

  Sometimes I wish I were more like him. Not his womanizing, of course, but his personality. People are drawn to him, always have been. He has charisma, and boy, does he use it on the ladies. I’m not sure he’ll ever settle down.

  I won’t either, but for a much different reason.

  I need my solitude. I can’t imagine letting another person get that close to me. I let my parents in, my sisters, my aunts, uncles, and cousins.