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And I would have to work hard at any relationship.
My father might have been able to make it work with my mother, but he didn’t have my background to contend with. He grew up on Steel Acres his whole life. Nothing happened to break him. He lived his whole life in privilege, and he didn’t have memories that plagued him for twenty-five years.
Indeed, my father is a hero. During his time in the military, he was credited with saving six lives when his platoon was attacked by Iraqi insurgents.
I could talk to my father about my developing feelings for Ashley. He would be receptive, encouraging even.
But there are some things about my life that even my father will never understand. The only person who might hope to understand is my brother, and he has chosen to deal with his past in a different way.
The tasters still mill around, asking Ashley questions. She answers each one, and she does so in a way that makes them happy and ready to buy wine. She shows her superior knowledge without talking down to them. She’s gifted. Truly gifted.
I haven’t given her nearly enough credit. Instead, I berate her for using words like lusty and flirty, but those words speak to people who like wine but don’t have an intimate knowledge of it. In other words, customers.
She’s good. She’s really good.
Someone tugs on my shirtsleeve. It’s the blond woman.
“Did you say your name is Dale?” she asks.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Dale Steel. I’m the assistant winemaker.”
“I just want to tell you again how much I love this wine.”
“Thank you.”
“Is it true what she said? Did you really make this wine?”
“Guilty.”
“Wow. You’re amazing. By the way, my name is Katie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I murmur.
“My friend and I are driving into Snow Creek for dinner.”
“Have a nice time.”
“Could you recommend a good place to eat?” She pauses a moment. “Better yet, why don’t you join us? You can show us the best places.”
She’s very pretty, and so is her friend. Donny or Brock would be all over this, but the thought of going to dinner with two strangers—albeit two attractive strangers—makes me want to break out in hives.
Plus there’s a bigger reason I don’t want to go, and she’s finishing up the Cab Franc tasting at this very moment.
“Excuse me,” I say to Katie, “but it’s my turn to lead the tasting of the next two wines.” I walk toward Ashley.
“How’d I do, Coach?” she asks coyly.
“Adequate,” I say, taking care to keep my voice monotone.
“It will just kill you to give me a compliment, won’t it? Well, at least I got one before the tasting started.” She smiles sweetly and gestures to the other bottles of wine. “It’s all yours.”
I nod, paste on my smile, and get ready to go into wine guru mode. I’ve perfected my fake personality over the years. I smile and I talk about wine. The wine talk is easy. The smiling not so much.
Funny, though. For the last couple of days, since Ashley arrived, I find myself having to keep from smiling. Something about her tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I know enough about myself to realize it’s not just the passionate kisses.
This woman touches something inside me—something I’ve never let anyone touch.
My broken soul.
I’ve been through therapy with the best, and I’ve learned to live with what happened to me all those years ago. I have a wonderful life and wonderful opportunities to fulfill my creative aspirations. I’m content. Yes, I still have the nightmares sometimes, but I accept them for what they are, for what they will always be. A link to my past that I can never change.
Acceptance.
The last stage of grief.
I accepted long ago that those experiences changed me, almost at a molecular level. In some ways, I actually find myself embracing them, for without them, I wouldn’t be me.
I wouldn’t be Dale Steel.
Dale Steel is far from perfect, but he’s me, and I’ve learned to live with him.
The status quo works for me. Bringing someone else into the mess inside me wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
No matter how much I yearn for Ashley White.
I clear my throat. I want to give her something, so I open my mouth to speak.
“Ashley is our intern this season,” I say. “Let’s give her a round of applause. She’s great, isn’t she?”
I steal a glance at Ashley, whose jaw has nearly dropped to the floor, while the tasters clap for her with enthusiasm.
“She’s a tough act to follow,” I continue, “and I have about a tenth of her personality, but I’ll do my best to make the rest of the tasting entertaining for you.” I pick up the Ruby. “We’ve been making this wine since before I was born. When my uncle Ryan took over as master winemaker, he wanted to create a blend as close to a red Châteauneuf-du-Pape as possible. This has been one of our most popular wines since he introduced it, and we continuously improve on it with every bottling. We use the GSM blend—Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre.”
