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“Okay, that’s a plan. I’ll text your mother.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ashley
At ten a.m., I stand in front of Dale’s guesthouse. I got a text from him last night saying we’d be starting later today.
Ashley, it’s Dale. Meet me at
my place at ten a.m. tomorrow.
We’ll drive over together.
Very succinct and to the point. Not that I expected him to compliment me on my oral skills, but an “I’m looking forward to it” might have been nice.
I knock hesitantly. A few seconds later, the door opens. Dale stands there, wearing jeans and a black button-down shirt. His hair is unbound, as usual, and also as usual, he looks absolutely scrumptious.
“Right on time,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Okay. Not a “Good morning, nice to see you.” Not even a “Hi.”
I have my work cut out for me. Penny pants at my heels, and I give her some quick pets on the head. Just seeing her reminds me of my horrible faux pas yesterday. Jade is keeping my secret, but I feel bad about that. Really bad.
I follow Dale to his truck. Although I’m not expecting it, he opens the passenger door for me.
Silence as we drive the half hour to the office.
He parks the truck, gets out, and when I open the door, he’s standing at my side.
“I have some paperwork to get to this morning. This afternoon, we’ll go watch the harvest.”
“When do we make wine?” I ask.
“We’re always making wine. Our tasting room is open this afternoon. From one to five on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
“Oh!” I clamp my hand to my mouth. “Are we going to do a tasting?”
“Uncle Ry does most of those.”
“Why don’t you do them?”
“It’s more his thing.”
“Can we go? I’m dying to see a tasting.”
Dale’s phone rings abruptly. “Hey, Uncle Ry,” he says.
“Dale, where are you?”
I widen my eyes. The phone’s on speaker. He doesn’t change it, so I assume he doesn’t mind if I hear what’s going on.
“At the office. I’m going to show Ashley how to do some of the paperwork.”
“That’s ridiculous. Get her over here to the winery. The paperwork can wait.”
“Paperwork’s an important part of what we do.”
“Sure it is, but we’re in the middle of harvest. Don’t bore her on her first day. Bring her over, the three of us will have some lunch, and then you can show her how to do a tasting.”
I can’t help myself. I laugh out loud.
“Hi, Ashley,” says Ryan via the speaker.
“Hi, Mr. Steel.”
“Ryan, please. Don’t let my nephew bore you on your first day. I expect to see both of you over at the winery in fifteen.”
“Sounds good to me,” I can’t help saying.
“Fine.” Dale’s lips form a straight line. “See you, Uncle Ry.”
He glares at me with those gorgeous green eyes. “I guess you’re getting your way.”
“My way? I want to learn everything.”
“I mean you’ll be seeing a tasting today after all.”
I don’t reply, but a smile spreads across my face. I can’t wait.
After a quick tour of the winemaking facility, which is smaller than I expected, we sit down to lunch. “We keep sandwich stuff in the fridge here,” Ryan says. “Of course we always have fruit and cheese on hand for the tastings. On some Fridays, we offer a lunch before the tasting, roast beef sandwiches made with Steel beef, of course, and fruit from our orchards.”
“So all the business flows together,” I reply.
“Exactly. My brothers and I all work together for the good of the entire ranch. My grandfather had a vision, and my father brought it to fruition. We keep it going.”
“It’s amazing.” I take a drink of my bottled water. “When can I taste a western slope peach?”
“How does today sound?” He rises, walks to a box on a nearby shelf, pulls out a peach, and tosses it to me.
It’s huge, the size of a soft ball. And the aroma. My God. “Do you have a knife?”
“Don’t tell me you’re a peeler like my nephew here.”
“Sorry, I can’t eat anything fuzzy.”
“She sounds like you, Dale.”
Dale reddens slightly. So we have something in common other than wine. He doesn’t like peach fuzz either.
Ryan brings a few knives over and hands another peach to Dale. Then he takes a juicy bite out of his own. “Nothing like it.”
I slice my peach in two and then peel it. The peel comes off easily. Just a nick with the knife and I can pull it off. The flesh is tangerine orange, and the juices drizzle over my hand. I cut it into bite-size pieces and pop one into my mouth. The flavor explodes across my taste buds. Sweet fruity flavor with just a touch of acidity. And vibrant hot pink. As I suspected, the taste isn’t peach-colored.
“What do you think?” Ryan asks.
I swallow. “Delicious. I’ve never tasted anything like it. Do you ever make wines from your orchard fruit?”
