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After some digging, I came across the two of you. Had you and your brother not been adopted into the Steel family, I’m not sure I could have found you.
* * *
I believe you and your brother, Donovan Steel, are the sons of my client.
* * *
He would like to meet you, but he understands if you’re not willing. Please call me at your earliest convenience.
I shake my head and crumple the paper into a ball, ready to toss it in the can with the rest of the junk, but something stops me.
He wrote to me. He didn’t try to call me. If he has access to my private address, he can easily find my phone. Either he’s a shitty PI, or this alleged father of mine isn’t paying him much. Could be either. Probably both.
It’s after nine o’clock, but I don’t care. PIs are available at all hours, right? I punch his number into my phone. It rings nearly ten times, and I’m about to give up, when—
“This is Greene.”
“Mr. Greene.” I clear my throat. “This is Dale Steel.”
“Who?”
“Dale Steel. You wrote me a letter? You say you know my birth father?”
“Yeah, right.” He makes a sound like he’s hocking a huge-ass loogie. “You willing to meet him?”
“How can I put this succinctly? Hell, no.”
“Good enough,” Greene says. “I’ll let him know.”
“Wait, wait, wait. You know who I am. You know who my family is. Is this motherfucker after money?”
“I have no idea what he’s after. He had enough to pay my hourly rate to get this much done. That’s it. I told him I’d write a letter to the address I found, and that’s it.”
“Does he have the address?”
“Not yet, but you’re from a powerful family. You weren’t hard to find.”
Okay, he’s open to negotiating. Got it.
“Tell him I’m not interested in anyone claiming to be my father who can’t even remember my mother’s full name.”
“That’s not the worst of it. He couldn’t remember your name or your brother’s either. He just remembered they both began with D.”
Seriously? What a prick. “Unreal. I suppose now that he knows who we are, he’ll want money.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Steel. I just do my job. What my client does with the information is up to him.”
“Why did he ask you to write the letter?”
“He figured you might respond to me. And you did.”
“Out of curiosity, nothing more. I have a father. I don’t need another, especially one who wasn’t around when I needed him most. Who can’t even remember my fucking name.”
“Good enough.”
“Wait,” I say. “What’s his name?”
“He’s asked me not to divulge that information.”
“I’m asking you to.”
“I can’t—”
“A thousand dollars,” I say. “For a name.”
“Is that a bribe?”
“You a cop?”
“No.”
“Any other type of government official?”
“Of course not.”
“Then it’s not a bribe. It’s a contractual offer. You’re of course free to refuse.”
Seconds pass. Then a minute. Finally, “Not over the phone.”
“Where, then?”
“Tomorrow. Sunrise Café. Grand Junction.”
“I’m the one paying. You come to me.”
“Fine. Where?”
Not in Snow Creek. The small town would wonder who the strange man was with me on a Sunday morning.
“I’ll find a place in the city. I’ll text you the location by eight a.m. tomorrow. Be prepared to meet me at nine.”
“All right. Bring cash.”
“Whatever. You’ll hear from me in the morning.” I end the call.
Then I grab the letter, pet Penny on the head, and head to the back door. “Back soon, girl.”
I’m out the door in a flash, walking back to the main house.
I need to talk to my dad.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ashley
Brock is kissing me.
It’s a good kiss. An experienced kiss. He’s done this a lot, and it’s readily apparent. It’s calculated, full of lust but no passion. He doesn’t desire me. He’s just horny. If I weren’t here, any woman would do.
I know the type.
I am the type.
Any other time or place, I’d be more than happy to go along for this ride.
Now? I’m not feeling it. No colors. Just a very practiced kiss.
I move my lips closer together in a way I’ve perfected. It’s the end to a kiss without being the end to a kiss.
I pull back slightly.
“You’re a great kisser,” he says.
“Thanks. So are you.” No lie. He just isn’t the guy I want to be kissing right now.
“I’m sure Diana warned you about me.”
“Not really.”
“She didn’t?” He pulls me close again. “That’s good,” he says against my ear.
I pull back once more. “That doesn’t mean I want to go any further. You know my position. Getting involved with anyone in the family isn’t a good idea while I’m interning.”
“Your internship doesn’t start until Monday.”
I can’t help a snorty laugh. “Nice try.”
“You’re so hot. You can’t blame me for trying.”
“You’re too young for me anyway.”
“I’m twenty-three. Legal. Can drink. Can die for my country. What more do you want?”
A thirty-five-year-old winemaker who sleeps in his vineyards and has a voice the color of my favorite wine that makes me tingle all over.
