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“Ever heard of Steel Acres?”
Patty shook her head, but Daphne’s eyes widened.
“It’s my father’s ranch on the western slope. We raise prime beef, and we grow apples and peaches.”
“Biggest ranch in Colorado,” Murph said.
Nice try, Murph. Still not happening.
“Really?” Patty smiled. “Our farm is just a small operation. We raise about a thousand pigs for slaughter each year. But we eat a lot of really great pork. My dad has a smokehouse, and we smoke our own hams and bacon.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Pig farming and beef ranching are two completely different animals. No pun intended.”
“Good one, Steel,” Murph said, giving me an evil eye.
Actually, my words were true. They were very different operations, so Patty and I had nothing in common other than our families both raised animals for meat.
“I was big into 4-H in high school. Three champion sows.”
“Good for you,” I said.
“I made Daddy promise they wouldn’t ever be slaughtered,” she continued. “They’re going to live long lives and have lots of babies.”
“And the babies will be slaughtered?”
I lifted my eyebrows. The words had come from Daphne. Was she an animal activist? I might not have a chance with her after all.
“The babies?” Patty said. “Well, a lot of them will be, yeah. People have to eat.”
“I know,” Daphne said softly. “I just hate the thought of animals in pain.”
“I see you’re eating that pepperoni pizza, though,” Murph said jovially. “I’m thinking the pepperoni didn’t grow on a tree.”
Daphne blushed. “I’m no vegetarian. I just don’t like to think about where it all comes from, you know?”
I did know, actually. When I was a kid, I got too attached to a couple of calves. My father made me go with him when they went to the slaughterhouse. A lesson in manhood, he’d called it.
More like a lesson in cruelty.
I was the only child of a majorly successful beef rancher. The ranch would be mine soon, for my father’s health was failing. He still worked seven days a week, but he struggled with emphysema from all his years of smoking. He’d taught me well, and I could run it better than he could. I was learning more about the business side here in college. In a year, when I graduated, I’d be more than ready to take over.
“I know,” I said softly, replying to Daphne’s question.
I wouldn’t tell her the calf story. At least not right now in front of Murph and Patty.
I didn’t like talking about it. All these years later, it still hurt.
I never got close to another animal on the range again, though.
“These aren’t pets, son,” my father had said. “We treat them well, but they’re our livelihood. They’re meat. They’re a commodity. You want a pet? Get a dog.”
So I had. Misty had passed away a couple of years ago. I’d cried—the first time I’d succumbed to tears since the calves. Now I had Ebony and Brandy, two labs—one black and one chocolate. I missed them every day. I often thought about bringing them here to live at my condo, but they’d miss the wide open spaces. Wouldn’t be fair to them.
Daphne met my gaze. In her brown eyes, I saw something I didn’t recognize at first.
A few minutes later, though, I knew.
This girl had been through something. Something big. A new feeling landed in my gut, something I hadn’t felt since that day my father made me drive those two calves away to be killed.
It was a profound urge to protect.
Chapter Three
Daphne
He was looking at me again.
I was used to men looking at me. Sean Murphy had been eyeing me since he poured me a beer from the keg on campus. Most men looked at me the way Sean did—they thought I was pretty, so they were interested.
Brad Steel was different.
When his gaze met mine, I felt stripped naked, as if he could see everything inside me. Everything I hid so deeply.
As if he were looking into my soul.
I was being silly, I knew. No one could see inside me. He was probably just looking at a pretty girl like they all did.
Still, I couldn’t shake that there was something more to his gaze.
Something a little bit scary, but in a good way.
I knew all about the Steels. I’d grown up in a Denver suburb, and the Steel ranch distributed beef to most restaurants in town. They were in the news a lot, and everyone knew it was the biggest and most successful ranch in Colorado. The fruit from their orchards ended up on produce shelves all over the state.
Which meant one thing.
Brad Steel was filthy rich.
I didn’t care about money, though. I lived a modest life. Having a sound mind was the most important thing to me. I had one now, and I wouldn’t give it up for all of Brad Steel’s money.
Funny how most people took their minds for granted.
