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.
Strange.
Yet not strange.
After the intensity of Dale Steel, I’m not sure I’ll experience my senses in the same way ever again.
“You going to answer me?” he asks.
What was the question again? “What more do I want? I guess I want—”
Then he’s walking past us. Briskly walking.
The man I want.
Dale. Brock and I are in a little alcove off the path between the main house and the guesthouse.
I jerk.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Someone just walked by.”
“It’s Dale. Probably going back to the party.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. Classic introvert. He needs his down time. He always comes back, though.”
“Oh.” I honestly had no idea he’d come back. Of course, he hasn’t paid me a lick of attention all evening. “We should get back,” I say.
“I gave it my best shot.” Brock shrugs. “Oh, and Ashley?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t give up that easily.”
“Neither do I,” I reply.
But I’m not talking about Brock.
He grabs my hand, and we walk back onto the path—
Crap.
Dale stands in our way. I was wrong. He did see us.
“Hey, cuz,” Brock says. “Going back to the party?”
“No.” Dale shakes his head. “I need to talk to my dad.”
“Cool.” Brock nods. “We were just—”
“It’s pretty clear what you were doing,” Dale says.
“No,” I say. “We weren’t—”
“Spare me the gory details. I don’t give a shit.”
His words slice right into my heart.
So cold. So utterly cold, but still, in his voice, they’re the color of the deep Syrah I love.
My synesthesia hasn’t taken a vacation after all. Apparently I only respond to Dale Steel now.
I don’t give a shit.
Yeah, he’s made that clear.
The problem? I do give a shit. I care. I care so damned much. So much that I’m letting a perfect stud like Brock slip through my fingers.
“Dale,” I say, “please.”
He turns, meets my gaze. “What is it?”
“We didn’t—”
“I just said I don’t care, Ashley. I don’t care. I have stuff to do.” He turns abruptly and continues walking toward the main house.
“Man, he’s in a mood tonight,” Brock says.
“Is he always like that?”
“Sometimes. He’s a great guy, but he’s always been a loner. Since he’s the oldest cousin, he got stuck watching Brad and me when we were younger. I think part of him still resents it.”
“Uh-huh.”
Except Brock is wrong. Whatever’s eating Dale goes far beyond resentment over babysitting younger siblings and cousins when he was a teen. I instinctively know this. A man who finds peace among grapevines, rather than people, is a man who’s hurting.
Dale is hurting, and I want so much to help him.
If only he’ll let me in.
Chapter Thirty
Dale
My dad is still at the pool. He’s sitting on a lounge chair talking to Diana. Her lips are downturned.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah, just having some cold feet, I guess. I’m fine.”
“Your sister is having a hard time being second choice.” Dad smiles.
I open my mouth, but Diana gestures for me to be quiet.
“I know, I know,” she says. “I’ve heard it from Dad. I’ve heard it from Mom. I’ve even heard it from Ashley.”
My groin tightens at Ashley’s name. Even with this PI and my alleged birth father at the forefront of my mind, even though I caught her making out with Brock, Ashley still affects me.
“I’m being ridiculous,” Diana continues.
“You’re not ridiculous,” I say.
She forces a smile. “You’re always so kind to me, Dale. I don’t think you’ve ever said a cross word to me in my life.”
“Now you know that’s not true.” I return her smile. “Remember when you finger-painted my term paper when I was a senior?”
That got her. She laughs. I’ve always loved to hear Diana laugh. The first time she laughed, she was three or four months old. To a troubled preteen boy, it was the most joyful sound in the world.
“Or when you broke that bottle of Château Lascombes he was saving?” Dad adds.
“That was an accident,” she says.
“Still, Dale got pretty angry with you,” Dad goes on.
“Uncle Ry’s gift to me on my twenty-first birthday.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I was pretty pissed, Sis.”
She frowns. “I haven’t thought of that in years.”
“Neither have I. It’s over.” I smile. “You okay now?”
She nods. “I’ve gotten the requisite Talon Steel pep talk. Hey, have you seen Ash?”
“She’s with Brock.” Though I try to sound nonchalant, I’m not convincing anyone, least of all myself.
“I may never find her, then,” Diana says.
“No, they’re over on the pathway to my place. At least they were a few minutes ago.”
She sighs. “I’ll find her. Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime, sweetie.”
“And you too, Dale.”
“What did I do?”
“You reminded me that no matter what happens in Denver, I have a big brother who adores me. Even if I break a three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine.” She gives me a quick hug and then walks off.