Awakened

by HELEN HARDT

  I follow him now, over to the table set up poolside. Five bottles are in ice, and flutes are arranged in a figure-eight design. We hastily pop all the corks and fill the flutes.

  Ryan holds up a glass. “Hey, everyone, come get some bubbles!”

  Amazing that they all stop and listen. Ryan has that effect on people. He can easily make himself the center of attention.

  Once everyone is out of the pool and holding a glass, I expect Ryan to begin. But it’s my father who takes the lead.

  “To our Diana,” he says. “Mom and I couldn’t be more proud.”

  I bring my flute to my lips, but Dad keeps talking.

  “And to Ashley. Welcome to the ranch. Our home is your home.”

  Ashley smiles, and for a second, our gazes meet.

  “To my sister!” Donny bellows. “You’ll kick major ass in Denver, Sis.”

  When I look back over at Ashley, she’s locked in a gaze with Speedo Brock. Damn you, Donny.

  Not that I want to be locking glances with Ashley. Of course I don’t. No matter what happened between us this morning, our relationship is a professional one and nothing more.

  Although she doesn’t know why, she can’t handle anything more.

  And neither can I.

  I make a point to talk to Diana once more before I sneak back to the guesthouse.

  I’ve had enough of the Brock and Ashley show for one night.

  I already know how this movie ends, and I don’t need to see it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ashley

  Dale leaves.

  I see him because I haven’t taken my eyes off him all night. Oh, I’ve been coy about it. I haven’t let him see me watch him. Only a few times have our eyes linked. But I’ve not let him out of my sight for more than a few minutes at any one time, even when his cousin is flirting boldly with me.

  Which admittedly, I’m enjoying. Brock Steel is tall, dark, and handsome—literally—with the body of a god. All the Steel men—even Talon and his brothers, at their age—have bodies like gods. To be in the presence of so many beautiful people is kind of humbling. I always thought I was pretty, but in this bunch? I’m average at best.

  Brock returns with two fresh glasses of champagne—er, bubbly—and hands one to me.

  “Thanks.”

  “Tell me,” he says, “is the Steel wine any good?”

  His question shocks me. “It’s amazing. Why do you ask?”

  He takes a sip. “Honestly? It all tastes the same to me. I guess I didn’t inherit the wine gene. I’m more of a beer man myself, and that’s only when I drink, which I rarely do.”

  “Why are you drinking now, then?”

  “For Diana.”

  “We already did the toast. You didn’t have to refill your glass.”

  “I know.”

  “So why did you?”

  “Because I wanted to refill yours. I’m a gentleman.”

  I let my gaze drop to his crotch for a microsecond. “Do all gentlemen wear such revealing swimwear?”

  He laughs. A big and boisterous laugh. The kind I’ll never hear from Dale. “Are all California girls as sassy as you are?”

  “Sassy?” I take a sip of wine.

  “Yeah, sassy. I was on the swim team in college, and this is what we wore. I got used to it. Trunks feel like they’re ballooning up when I’m in the water.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I guess I just assumed…”

  “That I wanted to show my goods to the world?” He laughs again. “To my family?”

  Warmth spreads to my cheeks. Luckily it’s dark outside now, though the pool area is well lit. “I can’t get out of this, can I?”

  “Well…maybe I’ll let you out of this horribly embarrassing moment…if you take a walk with me.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not? It’s a beautiful evening.”

  “Well…where?”

  “Anywhere. We have some gorgeous paths on the ranch. Perfect places to look at the stars.”

  I warm again, this time from the memory of watching the stars just last night with Dale in the vineyards.

  I clear my throat. “What do you do, Brock?”

  “When I’m on a walk?”

  I force out a chuckle. “No. I mean for a living.”

  “I work with my Dad. He takes care of the beef portion of the ranch. I’m pretty much his right-hand man these days.”

  “So you’re making the ranch a career?”

  “Yeah. My brother heads up our charitable foundation. He’s not interested in ranching. Dad was excited when I showed an interest.”

  “So most of your cousins work for the company, then?”

  “Most. Donny doesn’t. He’s a lawyer. And Ava has a bakery in town. Gina, Angie, Sage, and Bree are still in college, though Bree’s going to work with Uncle Tal in the orchard. Then there’s Diana. You already know she strayed.”

  I take another sip of sparkling wine and nod. “Architecture. Yeah.”

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, babe”—Brock finishes his bubbly and sets his glass on a nearby glass table—“you found an interesting way to keep from talking about walking under the stars.”

  I smile weakly.

  “I’m not your type, huh?”

  “Are you kidding? You’re everyone’s type.”

  “What gives, then?”

  “I don’t think it’s a great idea to get involved with anyone in the family while I’m working here.”

  But it’s perfectly okay to give my new boss a blow job outside his office.

  God, Ashley. Such a hypocrite!

  But my advice is sound. I just should have taken it this morning.

  “Babe, it’s a walk. I’m not asking you to get down and dirty in the grass.”

  True, he isn’t.

  “Would it make you feel better if I put my regular clothes back on?”

  I finish my second glass of bubbly and set the flute down. “Maybe. I’ll change back as well.”

  “A shame. You look amazing.”

  So do you.

  He does. But I can’t say it. I just can’t. As handsome and nice as Brock Steel is, he’s not Dale. Dale, who’s even more handsome, but not nice at all.

  Why am I so drawn to him?

  I hold back a scoff. He’s not here. He left the party. The party for his sister, who’s leaving tomorrow. He’s an introvert. I get it. But for God’s sake, this is for his sister, whom he professes to adore.

  “Thank you,” I say, “but I’m not used to Colorado evenings. A bikini isn’t going to cut it. I’ll go change, and I’ll meet you on the deck, all right?”

  “Sounds great.”

  I hastily walk back to the house and to my bedroom.

  Only to find Diana sitting on my bed in tears.

  “Dee?” I sit down next to her. “Oh my God. What’s wrong?”

  “I feel like… I feel like this internship isn’t right.”

  “Hey, where’s this coming from?”

  “I’m second choice, Ash. Everyone’s out there toasting me and acting like this is some big deal, but it’s not. I’m second choice.”

  I try not to laugh, but Diana’s privilege is showing. People who grew up like I did jump at second choice. Hell, we jump at any choice at all.

  “So what? You’re not their first choice, but you’re the best choice, and they’re going to be really glad their so-called first choice dropped out.”

  “I know. I think I know, anyway.”

  “You do know. I won’t deny that the selfish part of me wants you to stay, but that’s only for my own comfort level. I’ll be just fine, and so will you.”

  “I invited you here,” she says.

  “Actually, your uncle Ryan invited me here.”

  “If you want to get technical, yeah. But I invited you to stay here. At my house.”

  “Oh. Yeah, you did, but your mom and dad have made it clear they’re thrilled to have me, so we’re good.”

  Diana sniffles back
her tears. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “I must seem like a spoiled brat to you. I’m not. I’m really not. My mom and dad taught me to work my ass off, and I do. Which is why it hurt so much last spring when I didn’t get the internship. I tried really hard, worked so hard on my essay and my design for the competition, and then I didn’t get it. I’d finally come to terms with it, and then this happens.”

  “Meaning, you got the internship you originally wanted.”

  “Yeah. Like I said. Ridiculous.” She sniffs again. “What are you doing in here, anyway? I kind of hid out in here so no one would find me. You seemed to be enjoying the party so much, I didn’t think you’d come back in the house, so I’m hiding out in your room, where no one would look for me.”

  “I came to change. I guess I’m going on a walk with your cousin.”

  “Brock?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Interesting. I didn’t think he was your type.”

  “He’s every woman’s type, Dee. Everyone in your family is drop-dead gorgeous.”

  She smiles. Sort of. “I guess I just don’t think of my brothers and cousins that way.”

  “I’d be worried if you did.” I grab a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “Excuse me for a minute.” I walk into the private bathroom and shed my wet suit, hanging it on the shower rack. I dress quickly, take my hair out of the pony and comb it out. It’s damp, but I’m not out to impress Brock Steel. This is a walk. Nothing more.

  “You look good, Ash,” Diana says when I leave the bathroom.

  “As good as it gets,” I say. I’m not blowing my hair out. It’ll dry by itself. “You all good here?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Sorry to bother you with this. I really didn’t think you’d be back in so soon.”

  “Not a problem. I’m glad to help. You’re going to kill it, Dee. Remember that.”

  She nods again and stands. “Do I look okay?”

  “Diana, you’d look okay covered in horse poo. Now get back out there and enjoy your party.”

  She leaves, and I give myself a minute.

  Do I want to go on this walk with Brock?

  I don’t not want to. He’s a nice guy. He’s just not Dale.

  But Dale left. He’s clearly not interested in pursuing anything further. He couldn’t be more clear.

  I draw in a deep breath.

  Then I walk out of my room, through the house, and out onto the deck, where Brock is waiting for me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dale

  Diana’s party is still going strong. Voices clamor in the distance, making their way to my back door. I resist the almost desperate urge to walk back to check on Ashley.

  I need something to occupy my mind.

  I head into my home office and find a stack of mail waiting for me. I have a housekeeper who comes in twice a week. She always stacks my mail neatly in a pile on my desk, and I try to look at it once a week or so. Anything important comes to the office building, and all my bills are on autopay, so rarely does anything important come to the house. It’s mostly junk, but junk appeals to me at the moment.

  I sift through it, giving each piece a quick glance before tossing it into the trash.

  Until a white envelope gives me pause.

  The return address gives me even more pause.

  John Greene, private investigator.

  Why would a PI be writing to me?

  One way to find out. I slide the letter opener across the envelope in a perfect straight slit. I pull out the letter.

  Dear Mr. Steel,

  * * *

  I’m writing on behalf of my client, who wishes not to be named. I believe my client may be your birth father.

  My stomach drops.

  My birth father? We never knew him. My birth mother never spoke of him.

  Man, this all seems like a lifetime ago.

  I glance back down at the letter.

  My client hired me to find his two sons that he fathered with a woman named Cheri. He couldn’t remember her last name.

  Robertson, you dickhead. Her name was Cheri Robertson. You gave her two sons, and you can’t remember her fucking name?

  After some digging, I came across the two of you. Had you and your brother not been adopted into the Steel family, I’m not sure I could have found you.

  * * *

  I believe you and your brother, Donovan Steel, are the sons of my client.

  * * *

  He would like to meet you, but he understands if you’re not willing. Please call me at your earliest convenience.

  I shake my head and crumple the paper into a ball, ready to toss it in the can with the rest of the junk, but something stops me.

  He wrote to me. He didn’t try to call me. If he has access to my private address, he can easily find my phone. Either he’s a shitty PI, or this alleged father of mine isn’t paying him much. Could be either. Probably both.

  It’s after nine o’clock, but I don’t care. PIs are available at all hours, right? I punch his number into my phone. It rings nearly ten times, and I’m about to give up, when—

  “This is Greene.”

  “Mr. Greene.” I clear my throat. “This is Dale Steel.”

  “Who?”

  “Dale Steel. You wrote me a letter? You say you know my birth father?”

  “Yeah, right.” He makes a sound like he’s hocking a huge-ass loogie. “You willing to meet him?”

  “How can I put this succinctly? Hell, no.”

  “Good enough,” Greene says. “I’ll let him know.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. You know who I am. You know who my family is. Is this motherfucker after money?”

  “I have no idea what he’s after. He had enough to pay my hourly rate to get this much done. That’s it. I told him I’d write a letter to the address I found, and that’s it.”

  “Does he have the address?”

  “Not yet, but you’re from a powerful family. You weren’t hard to find.”

  Okay, he’s open to negotiating. Got it.

  “Tell him I’m not interested in anyone claiming to be my father who can’t even remember my mother’s full name.”

  “That’s not the worst of it. He couldn’t remember your name or your brother’s either. He just remembered they both began with D.”

  Seriously? What a prick. “Unreal. I suppose now that he knows who we are, he’ll want money.”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Steel. I just do my job. What my client does with the information is up to him.”

  “Why did he ask you to write the letter?”

  “He figured you might respond to me. And you did.”

  “Out of curiosity, nothing more. I have a father. I don’t need another, especially one who wasn’t around when I needed him most. Who can’t even remember my fucking name.”

  “Good enough.”

  “Wait,” I say. “What’s his name?”

  “He’s asked me not to divulge that information.”

  “I’m asking you to.”

  “I can’t—”

  “A thousand dollars,” I say. “For a name.”

  “Is that a bribe?”

  “You a cop?”

  “No.”

  “Any other type of government official?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then it’s not a bribe. It’s a contractual offer. You’re of course free to refuse.”

  Seconds pass. Then a minute. Finally, “Not over the phone.”

  “Where, then?”

  “Tomorrow. Sunrise Café. Grand Junction.”

  “I’m the one paying. You come to me.”

  “Fine. Where?”

  Not in Snow Creek. The small town would wonder who the strange man was with me on a Sunday morning.

  “I’ll find a place in the city. I’ll text you the location by eight a.m. tomorrow. Be prepared to meet me at nine.”

  “All right. Bring cash.”

  “Wha
tever. You’ll hear from me in the morning.” I end the call.

  Then I grab the letter, pet Penny on the head, and head to the back door. “Back soon, girl.”

  I’m out the door in a flash, walking back to the main house.

  I need to talk to my dad.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ashley

  Brock is kissing me.

  It’s a good kiss. An experienced kiss. He’s done this a lot, and it’s readily apparent. It’s calculated, full of lust but no passion. He doesn’t desire me. He’s just horny. If I weren’t here, any woman would do.

  I know the type.

  I am the type.

  Any other time or place, I’d be more than happy to go along for this ride.

  Now? I’m not feeling it. No colors. Just a very practiced kiss.

  I move my lips closer together in a way I’ve perfected. It’s the end to a kiss without being the end to a kiss.

  I pull back slightly.

  “You’re a great kisser,” he says.

  “Thanks. So are you.” No lie. He just isn’t the guy I want to be kissing right now.

  “I’m sure Diana warned you about me.”

  “Not really.”

  “She didn’t?” He pulls me close again. “That’s good,” he says against my ear.

  I pull back once more. “That doesn’t mean I want to go any further. You know my position. Getting involved with anyone in the family isn’t a good idea while I’m interning.”

  “Your internship doesn’t start until Monday.”

  I can’t help a snorty laugh. “Nice try.”

  “You’re so hot. You can’t blame me for trying.”

  “You’re too young for me anyway.”

  “I’m twenty-three. Legal. Can drink. Can die for my country. What more do you want?”

  A thirty-five-year-old winemaker who sleeps in his vineyards and has a voice the color of my favorite wine that makes me tingle all over.

  I’m not sure why.

  My synesthesia seems to have gone on a break. While I enjoyed Brock’s kiss—indeed, he seems to be an expert—I didn’t experience the colors and sensations I’m used to when I get intimate.