Cherished

by HELEN HARDT

  “But he won fair and square. I screwed up the shot.”

  “It was a hard shot.”

  “I’ve made shots like that before. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Of course you didn’t. That’s not what he’s thinking.”

  “I’m not the kind of woman who does that kind of thing.”

  “No one thinks that.” He signals Maryanne, the bartender. “You want something?” he asks me.

  I shake my head. “I had two glasses of wine with dinner. I’m fine, thanks.”

  He nods and orders a Peach Street bourbon. He takes a sip and then turns back to me. “Did you and Jade have a nice time last night? I hear Lisa’s place is something special.”

  My cheeks grow red-hot. My dinner with Jade. How much does Jade tell her husband?

  Does he know how I feel about his son?

  I look down at the wooden floor, hoping a giant hole will open up so I can hurl myself in.

  No such luck.

  Finally, I reply, “It was nice. The food was great.”

  “I like Italian. Darla doesn’t make it very much. My sister makes great Italian, though.”

  “She’s a chef, right?”

  “Yeah. Marjorie. Married to Bryce.” He gestures to the silver-haired man sitting a few chairs down.

  “Right. Henry’s dad.”

  “Yes. You’re doing great. In no time you’ll be able to pick all of us out of a crowd.”

  “Does Marjorie work at a restaurant?” I ask.

  Talon shakes his head. “It was always her dream, but with four kids, she decided to concentrate on her family and let the rest of us sample her amazing cooking.”

  “It’s a shame she never got to live out her dream.”

  “Who says she hasn’t?”

  “Well, you just said…”

  “Once she married Bryce and adopted Henry, she got pregnant about a day later with David. Two years later, she got pregnant again with the twins.”

  “That’s a lot of kids close in age.”

  “It is, but my sis is a great mom.”

  I nod. In the corner of my eye, I see Dale, his mouth in a thin line.

  He’s staring straight at me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dale

  My dad will never betray me. I know that as well as I know the feel of my pool stick between my fingers, as well as I know the Syrah vineyards that are my true home.

  Still, as he sits chatting with Ashley, I wonder.

  Will he tell her how I feel about her?

  Why do I even ponder this? My father’s word is as good as gold.

  And it dawns on me, as if lightning is striking my brain…

  Part of me wants him to tell her.

  Part of me wants her to know.

  Because maybe, if she knows, she’ll return my feelings.

  But I’ve been around the block enough times to know that women don’t respond to the way I’ve been treating Ashley. Women like to be cherished.

  And though I do cherish her, I’ll never show it.

  Sure, I can fuck the daylights out of her. I have, and I hope to again. But I’ll never tell her how I truly feel. Not only do I fear she won’t return my feelings.

  I also fear that she will.

  Already my emotions have bubbled to the surface, and it takes all my strength to contain them. If she shares them? I’ll erupt.

  That won’t be pretty.

  Sure, the good part of it will be wondrous. I’ll be in ecstasy.

  Until the bad part comes out.

  And it will come out.

  It’s the duality of nature. Of life.

  My dad understands. And now I know why. So maybe the answer lies with him.

  Or maybe it lies with my mother.

  My beautiful mother, whose only crime was that she wasn’t the mother I loved and missed.

  The mother who left Donny and me home alone after school while she worked.

  That’s how…

  The masked men. The vile-smelling van where we rode, blindfolded, for days upon days upon days. Somehow we got to the island off the coast of Jamaica. I don’t remember how. On a plane? In a boat?

  I still don’t know.

  We were most likely drugged.

  When we arrived, starving, dehydrated, and covered in our own piss and shit, I remember thinking nothing could be so horrible.

  I was wrong.

  “Get in there, you little fuckers.”

  The man was masked, of course, and he threw Donny and me into a large shower with several other children.

  “Take off those shit-stained clothes and clean yourselves.”

  I looked around for a bar of soap, to no avail.

  Donny was crying, tears running down his cheeks—-the round cheeks of a little boy. Mine had only just begun to slim down as puberty headed my way. I wasn’t there yet, though. Only a few hairs had sprouted in my pubic area, and they were soon shaved off by one of the minions.

  I grabbed my brother and held him close to me. “Don’t cry,” I said. “Never let them see you cry.”

  They were empty words, and it was a command Donny couldn’t obey.

  He continued to cry.

  During the next few months, he cried a lot. We were left with so little water, I often wondered how he was still able to produce tears.

  We shed our dirty garments and got clean as best we could under the lukewarm water.

  It was our last shower until Dad rescued us.

  A few minutes later, we were hustled out of the shower, given ragged towels to dry ourselves, and then each given a large gray T-shirt. It was a man’s size, and Donny’s hung well below his knees. Mine did not. It barely covered my ass, but I had nothing else.

  Donny gripped my hand tightly. “What’s happening, Dale? Where’s Mommy?”

  I had no answer for my brother.

  It seemed Mommy had forsaken us.

  We were led to a door, where one of the kids with us was thrown into a room.

  Then another door, and another of the masked minions grabbed me. “In you go,” he said, his voice eerie.

  “No, Dale!” Donny cried.

  “Shut the fuck up,” the minion said sharply.

  “Please,” I said. “Don’t. Let him come with me.”

  The masked man smiled through his ski mask. Creepy, how I could see only his lips but no cheeks and nose. It was a smile of deception, a smile like a snake hissing in a whisper, “Be careful what you wish for…”

  “Fine.” He threw Donny into the room with me, my brother crying out as he landed on his knees.

  Donny didn’t know at the time, but I soon figured out the reason behind the sly smile of the masked man.

  This wasn’t the minion helping us.

  This was the minion starting to break us.

  Horror would descend, and more horrific than anything done to me would be watching it happen to my little brother.

  “You going to shoot, or what?”

  Brock’s voice shocks me out of my trip back in time.

  I quickly scan the pool table. I’m solids this time, and only two balls remain. Brock missed his last shot, but only one striped ball is left on the table for him to sink.

  It’s a close game, and Brock is admittedly a better pool player than I am. I beat him about half the time, though, due to my focus. Brock tends to lose focus…especially when pretty girls are around.

  I can do it this time. Two easy shots await me, and then, if I plan the second shot just right, I’ll have a straight line to the eight ball.

  Ashley’s eyes are on me.

  I don’t look toward her, but I know. I feel her gaze, and I can’t allow it to trip up my focus.

  I make the first shot with ease.

  Then the second.

  Ashley still watches me, and my groin tightens. Fuck. I love her. I want to sink this shot for her. Show her I’m as good as Brock.

  I steady my hand and put the cue stick in position. I aim, sliding the s
lick stick through my fingers once, twice, three times, and then—

  Lust whirls through me. Lust I can’t control. Except it’s not lust. It’s love. It takes me over, swirls through my head and gives birth to the rage I’ve tried so hard to suppress.

  My cue stick digs into the table and I miss the shot.

  Brock wrinkles his forehead, makes his shots, and in the end, sinks the eight ball.

  He wins.

  I hope it’s a shallow victory for him, as shallow as mine over Ashley.

  I played a good game, and I should have won. Indeed, I could have won.

  But no longer.

  The monster inside will never let me rest.

  It’s eating away at my focus, and soon it will destroy what I’ve worked so hard to build.

  Those walls around me are crumbling.

  Crumbling.

  And I’m no longer safe from the chaos.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ashley

  A lump forms in my throat as Brock wins the game against Dale. Dale was so close. That eight ball was an easy shot, but he blew it.

  “He’s going to be pissed,” I murmur to Talon.

  “Dale? Nah. He doesn’t care much about pool.”

  “He’s good at it.”

  “Dale’s good at a lot of things. He’s a virtuoso pianist, for example.”

  Right. He told me he played. He neglected to say he was a virtuoso. “Oh?” I say.

  “Yeah. He’s a creative type, like Ryan and Marj. Joe and I didn’t get that gene.”

  “Where do you suppose Dale got it?” Then I clasp my hand to my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s okay. Dale’s adopted. We all know that.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Honestly, we don’t know. We never met his real parents, and Dale and Donny didn’t know a lot about their mother. They knew nothing about their father.”

  “I guess one of them must have had creative gifts,” I say. “Or maybe it’s nurture, not nature.”

  Talon laughs. “If that were the case, Jade and I would be creative, and neither of us really is. Diana is, in an analytical way. That’s why she’s drawn to architecture, I guess. Donny and Bree are more logical than creative.”

  “I suppose that makes Donny a good lawyer,” I say absently.

  Talon nods. “And it makes Bree very handy in the orchards as well.”

  I turn and look toward Dale once more.

  And I hold back a gasp.

  He’s gone.

  I quickly scan the bar. Maybe he went to the men’s room.

  Back at the pool table, Brock is racking the balls once more, and Henry is chalking his stick. The two of them are setting up for another game.

  “He’s probably outside,” Talon says to me.

  “Who?”

  He chuckles. “I know you’re looking for Dale. He needs to leave enclosed spaces sometimes. Especially after losing a game he should have won.”

  “Why does he like the outdoors so much?” I ask.

  Talon sighs. “That’s something you’d have to ask him.”

  I nod. “I doubt he’d be forthcoming if I asked him anything personal like that.”

  “Probably not.” Talon swirls the bourbon in his lowball glass. “But you never know. The right woman can work miracles. I should know.”

  I meet Talon’s gaze. His words are enigmatic. Is he talking about Dale? Is he talking about me? Is he talking about himself? Jade? All of us?

  I open my mouth to ask for clarification, but no words leave my throat.

  Talon finishes his drink and sets his glass down on the bar. “I should get home. Got an early morning.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” I stand.

  “Need a ride?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I have the car you guys lent me. I drove here to meet Brendan for dinner, and it’s been hours since my last drink. I’m good.”

  “Okay. Dale and I came together, so I’d better see where he went off to. See you at home.” He rises and walks out of the bar.

  I heave a sigh.

  Then, after thanking Brendan again for the lovely evening, I leave the bar as well, walking the short distance to where the car is parked on a side street.

  And I gasp.

  Dale stands against the car door.

  The distance between us seems to grow as I walk my normal pace. How can he be getting farther away?

  But my perspective is playing tricks on me, and in an instant I’m standing a mere foot away from the object of my desire.

  I’m momentarily at a loss for words, and of course, Dale doesn’t deign to speak to me.

  Finally, I say, “Your dad is looking for you.”

  He doesn’t reply.

  I clear my throat. “Did you hear me?”

  “I’m not deaf.”

  “Then…aren’t you going to go find your dad? He said you guys came together.”

  “My dad’s a big boy, and so am I. We don’t need to check in with each other. He’ll go home if he can’t round me up.”

  “But then how—”

  “I’ve got several family members inside the bar, any of whom can give me a ride home. But I don’t need any of them.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No,” he says, “because I’m going home with you.”

  My heart thumps wildly.

  “But I live—”

  “For Christ’s sake, Ashley. We’re going to my place.”

  “But Talon said he’d see me at home.”

  Dale shakes his head. “You’re a big girl too. You don’t need my father’s permission to go with me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Good. Now unlock this fucking car.”

  I pull the fob out of my purse and click it. My whole body is throbbing from his nearness. From his Syrah-colored voice. From the thought of what he’ll do to me at his place.

  But he could just mean I’m to drive him home and then leave.

  I draw in a breath. Whatever he means, I’ll deal with it. One way or another. For now, I’ll assume he just wants a ride home.

  “Get in,” I say.

  He takes the fob from me. “I’ll drive.”

  I shake my head. “You’ve been drinking. I haven’t.”

  “I had one glass of wine, Ashley. You’ve seen me drive after drinking more than that. Besides, you drank with Brendan. Latour.”

  His tone is… I’m not sure what it is.

  “That was hours ago. I haven’t had anything since.”

  “Impressive move,” he says, “for Murphy to serve you such an elegant bottle.”

  “Was it? To serve an almost doctor of wine one of the best wines out there?” My tone is sarcastic.

  “To pretend he knows shit about the grand crus.”

  “He’s a bartender,” I counter. “He has to know about wines.”

  “He knows about wine, all right,” Dale says. “How to choose the right wine for the right woman.”

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  “Only from where I’m standing.” He waves the key fob and opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dale

  I’m heading into the chaos. I know this, yet I can’t stop myself.

  I want Ashley.

  Brendan may have shared an expensive bottle of wine with her, but I’ll share my body with her. I have to. It’s no longer an option for me.

  My love for this woman may be the only thing that can keep the monster at bay. If I focus on the good side of what’s coming out, maybe the bad will stay buried.

  Even I don’t believe that, but at least it may delay its release. I have to believe in something.

  Denying myself what I want from Ashley will only quicken the process. I have to do what I can to stay sane.

  This woman drives me into a frenzy. Somehow I allowed her in, allowed her to start breaking the structure I’ve built around my heart—the structure that, up until now, has been un
breakable.

  I drive her in silence to the guesthouse.

  She turns to me. “I need the keys now.”

  “Oh?”

  “To…” She clears her throat. “To get home. Er…to the main house.”

  “You’re not going to the main house.”

  “But…I have work tomorrow. It’s late.”

  “And I’m your boss. I say you can go in late if you need to.”

  Already I know she’ll be at work bright and early, even if she doesn’t get a second of sleep tonight. That’s who she is, and it’s part of what I love about her.

  Why did I have to meet such a wonderful woman? I have no right to her. No right to screw up her life.

  None of that matters, though. I’m going to take her anyway. I’m going to take her because I need her.

  I love her.

  I don’t labor under any delusion that she could possibly return my feelings. In fact, she’ll never know my feelings. I won’t let her in on that weakness.

  I’ve seen what loving a woman can do to a man. It can knock down every wall until a man is nothing more than a puddle of emotion.

  For most men, that isn’t a problem. Their emotions don’t take over. For me?

  I’m different.

  I’ve hidden so much inside for so long, and now it’s roaring to get out.

  I’ll control it as best I can, but I need Ashley to do that.

  I need to touch her, kiss her, fuck her brains out. I’ll let the good take over for as long as I can.

  I fear it won’t be long enough.

  She meets my gaze, her blue eyes sparkling. “All right, Dale. Let’s do this.”

  We walk side by side to the front door, and I punch in the key code.

  Penny jumps up to greet us, and Ashley laughs and drops to her knees, showering my dog with affection.

  Ashley on her knees.

  How well I remember the first time I saw this image, how I imagined her sucking me.

  How, when I actually experienced that pleasure, it was even better than I imagined.

  “Come on, Pen.” I walk through the foyer to the kitchen and open the glass door. Penny eagerly bounds out into the starlight. I walk out onto the deck and look up.