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“Mr. George?”
“Mr. Brad’s father. Mr. George and Miss Mazie, short for Mackenzie. Mr. Brad was named after his mother, Mackenzie Bradford Steel.”
“His real name is Bradford?”
“It is,” she said. “His middle name is Raymond for Miss Mazie’s dad.”
I nodded. “Do you get up at five to make breakfast?”
“No. I don’t live here, but I do make sure all the breakfast fixings are in place before I leave after dinner, which is at seven. That’s what I mean by an early lunch. It’s a long wait for dinner.”
“What are we having for dinner?”
“Thinking of your next meal already?” She laughed. “Mr. Brad says we’re having rib eye steaks. Steel beef, so you can try the best cut.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever tasted grass-fed beef,” I said.
“Then you’re in for a treat. It’s a little leaner but still very flavorful. More so, in my opinion. The Steels get a good marbling despite the grass feeding.”
“A good marbling?”
“The way the fat is distributed through the muscle is called marbling, and marbling gives the beef its flavor.”
“Oh. I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about beef ranching.”
“I only know from listening to Mr. George talk. Stick around here, and you’ll learn quickly.”
I nodded, spooned some blackberry jam on my toast, and took a bite. Mmm. Deliciously wild and fruity. Tough call between that and the peach. Next, the apple. Oh my God. Crisp and amazing. The apple, hands down, was my favorite, though the other two were spectacular as well. This was true farm-to-table eating. Or rather, orchard-to-table. I couldn’t wait to try more.
“When you’re done, just leave your dishes in the sink. I’ll clean up before I start lunch later.”
“I’m happy to help in any way.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re a guest here. Make yourself at home. The Steels have a marvelous library down the other hallway.” She pointed.
“What about Mrs. Steel? Is she here? I don’t want to step on any toes or anything.”
“Miss Mazie is gone for the weekend. Went to Grand Junction to visit her mother. It’s just Mr. George and Mr. Brad, and like I said, they won’t be in until twelve thirty. The house is yours, honey.”
“Oh. All right, I guess.”
“Make yourself at home. Miss Mazie, if she were here, would say the same.”
“Yes, she would.”
I turned.
Brad had entered the kitchen.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Brad
Daphne looked like sunshine sitting at the table in our huge kitchen, sunlight streaming over her. Her hair was braided and fell into a dark rope over one shoulder.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I said.
Her cheeks pinked and she smiled. “Hey.”
“Belinda taking good care of you?”
“The best,” she said. “These jams are terrific.”
“Only the best,” I said.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Brad?”
“I’ve told you a million times, Belinda, just call me Brad. And no.”
“Are you sure? Lunch isn’t until—”
“Twelve thirty. I know. I figured I’d get back in here early to show Daphne around the place a little.”
“Where’s your dad?” she asked.
“He’s still out on the northern quadrant.”
“Northern quadrant?” Daphne queried.
“This place is huge,” I said. “He’ll make it back by lunch.”
“You guys work like this all through the weekend?”
“Stock still needs tending. Fruit needs picking.”
“But you have…ranch hands.”
“We do. We take time off whenever we want to, but I like working when I’m back here. It’s good for my head.”
No truer words. My father might be an asshole who pushed my mother around, but he did teach me a lot of important stuff, such as good hard work keeps you sane. I knew every aspect of this business, from contract negotiation and financials to how to clean out barns and care for stock. We weren’t too good to get our hands dirty. Frankly, I liked it that way.
“I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll be ready in ten minutes, and then I’ll show you around a little before lunch. Sound good?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine. I may just get a spoon and eat these jams right out of the jars.”
That got a laugh out of Belinda. “Honey, I’ve done the same thing myself.”
I left the kitchen and traipsed to my bedroom. I’d come in here when I woke up to shower this morning because I didn’t want to wake Daphne.
She’d slept so well, like an angel in my arms.
Crazy, these feelings I was having. I wanted her so badly, wanted to push her down onto a bed and fuck the daylights out of her, but my need to protect her from everything, even myself, superseded all that. These feelings were new to me. New…and pleasant.
I would be the one to take her virginity, and it would happen soon. It wouldn’t happen under my parents’ roof, however. Not going there.
Wendy and I had fucked on my parents’ bed once. It had been her idea, of course. Also her idea to use two of my father’s neckties—he only owned three—for me to bind her to the antique headboard.
