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Except my mother knows I don’t want to take Ashley to the vineyards.
She knows the vineyards are mine.
I don’t mean mine in an ownership sense, though they’ll be mine someday. But still they’re mine. They’re the place I go to when I need to find peace, tranquility. It’s why I slept there when I was younger.
It’s why I sleep there still.
During the warm weather, I spend more nights in the vineyards than I do in the guesthouse. Sometimes even in the cold weather. I have a zero-degree sleeping bag and a one-man tent that I use when it’s truly too cold to sleep under the stars. It’s not the same, but sometimes I just need to be with my vines, even if I can’t see them from the tent. I know they’re near, keeping watch over me as I do over them.
We understand each other.
Seems like he’d rather be with those damned grapes than he would with me.
My mother’s words that I overheard long ago, spoken to my father.
Let him be who he is, blue eyes.
But I want to help him.
You are helping him, just by being you. By being his mother. By loving him.
I do love him, Talon. I just wish he’d love me back.
He does.
Not the way he loves you.
I could never explain this to anyone, most of all my mother, but I do love her as much as I love my father. As much as I love my brother and sisters. As much as I love Aunt Mel and Uncle Ry and everyone else here on the ranch.
It’s just different, is all.
She and I don’t mesh. I’ve made my peace with that, though I don’t think she ever will.
Ashley returns with a light jacket. More than she needs, in my opinion, but she’ll still be cold out on the slope. Nothing I can do, though. Not until she gets used to non-California weather.
“Ready?” she says to me.
I nod.
“Aren’t you going to get a jacket?”
“Don’t need one.”
“But once it gets dark—”
“I don’t need one,” I repeat, my tone harsher than I mean for it to be.
She regards me, her blue gaze holding much the same look I saw in my mother’s eyes.
Have I offended her? I simply don’t need a jacket. I’m used to Colorado evenings in the fall. Harvest is my favorite time.
“Let’s go.” I walk toward the guesthouse.
“Wait. What? Where are we going?”
“To my house. My truck is there.”
“Oh. Right. Dee told me you live in the guesthouse.”
We walk in silence after that, the laughter of my family fading in the distance. Once we reach the house, I unlock the door and usher her inside.
Penny greets us with happy yips.
Ashley drops to her knees and smothers her with pets to the head. “She’s adorable! What’s her name?”
Ashley.
On her knees.
Something inside me jerks.
I know what it is, but I’ve spent my life tamping it down. This time, though, I’m not sure I can.
This woman—this blond California girl who’s so not my type—is on her knees.
And I let the image invade my mind.
Ashley on her knees. In front of me. Unzipping my jeans. Handling my hard cock. Licking its tip, and then—
Fuck. My groin tightens. Just what I don’t need at the moment.
Ashley looks up and meets my gaze. “Are you going to answer me?”
Uh…what was the question?
“What’s her name?” Ashley asks again.
“Oh. Penny. Her name’s Penny.”
“She’s gorgeous. What is she?”
“She’s a dog.”
Ashley rolls her eyes. “Unbelievable.”
“What? You don’t believe she’s a dog?”
She giggles. “I can’t believe you actually have a sense of humor.”
“What sense of humor?” I can’t help myself. “She is a dog.”
“You know exactly what I meant. What breed is she?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. I got her at the rescue.”
“You can do one of those DNA kits on her.”
“What for?”
“So you’ll know what breeds she comes from.”
“Why does that matter? She’s a great dog, and I love her. I don’t care who her parents are.”
Ashley lowers her gaze. “Oh.”
Yup. She got it.
I’m adopted. Even though I did know my mother, I never knew my father, and my parents love me anyway, not having a clue where I came from.
“I’m sorry,” she says, stroking Penny’s soft head. “I didn’t mean…”
“Sure, you did. I accept that you didn’t mean the words to be hurtful, but you did mean them. You think it’s important to know where someone comes from. I don’t know who my real father was. The surname I had before I was adopted was Robertson, my mother’s name.”
“And your brother…?”
“Is my brother.”
“But does he have the same…”
“Father? Yes, he does. My parents had that checked out after we were adopted. Our DNA showed us to be full siblings, though one look at us and you could have guessed that.”
“I see.”
“But it didn’t matter to me then, and it doesn’t matter to me now. Donny is my brother, regardless of DNA, just like Diana and Brianna are my sisters.”
