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I want to kill whoever hurt her.
Still, my emotional response to her is not enough to level with her. Some things are better kept inside.
“No,” I lie through my teeth. “I’ve never gone to bed hungry.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ashley
I’m so not surprised.
Of course Dale never went hungry. He’s a Steel. Maybe he wasn’t always a Steel, but for the better part of his life he’s been one, and Steels don’t go hungry.
Is there a bit of truth in his assertion? Did I come here to experience the lap of luxury?
Maybe I did. Once I met Diana…
But it was simple fate that I ended up next to her at the lecture. I didn’t seek her out. And it was also simple fate that we got along well, and that she offered to introduce me to her uncle. I didn’t make that request. She offered.
Of course…I was the one who brought up the internship idea.
But neither Dee nor her uncle seemed put out by it. They were pleased I was interested, even though they never had an intern before.
Crap.
Is there truth in Dale’s words?
Damn.
But so what if there is? My life hasn’t been wine and roses. It’s been damned hard at times, and if I jump at the chance to live on a gorgeous ranch to learn about the wine business, who can blame me?
The answer? Dale Steel.
Dale blames me. Though Diana and Ryan weren’t at all put out by my idea, Dale most certainly is.
He didn’t ask to be saddled with an intern, and so far, all he’s done is insult me.
Well…he did kiss me too. But clearly he regrets that little faux pas.
How I wish he didn’t. How I wish he’d kiss me again. But that won’t happen. Not ever. He’s made that perfectly clear.
“I have gone to bed hungry,” I say, “and it’s not pretty.”
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”
You should be.
I don’t say it. I’m not a brat, even though I’m acting like one. Dale seems to bring out the brat in me, and I don’t like how I wear it.
It’s not Dale’s fault that I went to bed hungry as a child. I spent years envying the little rich kids in California. The sons and daughters of celebrities who had everything in the world lavished upon them while I wished only for a belly full of food and a warm bed.
I thought I’d gotten over all that. I’m an adult now and responsible for my own life. I refuse to regress to petty jealousy.
“I’m sorry too,” I say.
“For what?”
“For being…” A brat? The word is correct, but I can’t bring myself to say it. “Insulting. I’m sorry.”
“No one should go to bed hungry. Or cold.”
I nod. “You’re right. No one should. But people do. Every day.”
“It may interest you to know that the Steel Foundation funds many food pantries and homeless shelters.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. My cousins Henry and Brad head up the foundation. Maybe you’d like to meet them.”
“I’m no philanthropist.”
He chuckles. God, that voice.
“Certainly not. Oenology is pretty far from philanthropy. You look down your nose at how we live here on the ranch, yet your chosen field is to sell high-end wine to consumers in fancy restaurants. You’re a contradiction.”
Anger coils in my belly. “I’m not looking down on anyone. I just decided a long time ago that I won’t look up to someone just because he has more money than I do.” I clench my fists. “As for oenology, it’s what I’m interested in—you of all people should understand that—and I’ve earned my own way. I didn’t have rich parents to pay for my education.”
“Apparently you didn’t need them. You have more education than I do.” His eyes soften then, but only a little. “I’m truly sorry you ever had to go to bed hungry. I’m truly sorry for anything else you might have gone through that was unpleasant. You seem to be okay now, though. There comes a time when you have to put the ugly in the past. Set it aside. Compartmentalize. Stop envying those who had it easier than you did.”
I scoff, even though his words ring true. “Easy for you to say. Look where you grew up.”
“I’ve been lucky in many respects.” Then he glares at me, those green eyes darkening to the color of moss growing on the trunks of trees in a forest. No longer a bell choir, but now a chant of bass voices. “But there are things you don’t know about me, Ashley. Things no one will ever know.”
I stop myself from gulping audibly.
His words stir me. Is he hiding something? After all, he’s only been here on the ranch for the last twenty-five years. What happened during those first ten?
He says he never went hungry. Well, then, it can’t have been that bad.
Unless he’s not being truthful.
Even with my heightened senses, I can’t tell when someone’s lying. Sure, there are the classic tells—looking down, fidgeting, small facial twitches—but Dale doesn’t exhibit any of those. He’s seemingly made of steel. A tribute to his name.
