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“Did it get better?”
“Eventually. By high school he was able to sit through classes. But during passing periods he ran laps around the school building. Seriously.”
I widen my eyes. “Wow. Really?”
“Yeah. It was the strangest thing. He never stayed for any extracurricular activities.”
“You just said he attended dances.”
“He did. But he didn’t help plan them. Didn’t play any sports. Didn’t participate in any clubs. Not that we had a lot of options at Snow Creek High.”
“He didn’t go to college…” I murmur, more to myself than to Brendan.
“He did for a semester,” Brendan says. “We went to Mesa together in Grand Junction. But it wasn’t for him.”
“He needed to be outdoors,” I say.
“Maybe. But like I said, he didn’t play any sports at school, despite being built like a tree trunk. The football coach was after him since he was a freshman. Football would have given him a lot of time outdoors.”
Except not the kind of time he craved. I know this already. Dale couldn’t be part of a team. Couldn’t depend on others. He needed the solitude of his vineyards. Of the vast acreage of the ranch.
I take another bite of my pie and chew it slowly, my mind racing.
“He’s a strange bird,” Brendan continues. “Strange, but a good guy.”
I swallow the peach goodness. “Did you ever try to find out why he was the way he was?”
“Not really. He wouldn’t let anyone close enough to even venture to ask that question.”
Sounds like Dale, all right. “What about his younger brother?”
“Donny was different. Much more outgoing. He was three years younger than me, so I never knew him very well, but he was a star tight end on the football team his senior year.”
“Snow Creek High actually had enough students to put together a football team?”
“Barely,” he laughs. “That’s why Coach was so adamant about Dale playing. He’s a natural athlete, but he wanted no part of it.”
I nod, taking another bite of the flaky peach pie.
“He comes to the bar every now and then.”
I swallow. “Who? Dale?”
“Yeah. Sometimes with his dad. With Donny, if he’s in town. Occasionally with one of his cousins. He always orders his own wine.”
“Like Jade did last night.”
“Yeah. I’ve said before, the Steels do a lot for this community.”
“Yet the community still gossips about them.”
He laughs raucously. “Touché. But you’re doing your share of gossiping tonight too.”
“I’m not,” I say with mock sincerity. “I’m just listening.”
“Why all the questions about Dale?” Brendan asks.
My cheeks heat instantly. “I work with him. That’s all.”
“How is he to work with?”
“Good.” I take another bite of pie.
“That doesn’t sound too convincing,” Brendan says after swallowing.
“He knows a ton about wine. He may know more than I do, which is strange given I’ve studied wine for years.”
“He’s worked with wine, though. And he learned from Ryan. My dad always said Ryan was a genius.”
“He is, but Dale is no less so.” I gouge the last piece of pie crust with my fork.
“You think?”
I nod. “I know. He understands the process in an almost intimate way, beginning with each bud on the grapevine and ending with award-winning wine in a bottle. It’s like… It’s like it’s all part of him, in a way.”
“I can see that,” Brendan agrees. “Dale was always kind of cerebral. He didn’t like school, but he was good at it, if that makes sense.”
“He didn’t like being stuck in a classroom,” I say. “The ranch is his classroom now. The vineyards. The winery. The tasting room. All where he can stretch out and move to his heart’s content.”
“How do you know all this about Dale?” he asks. “You ask so many questions, but you seem to know him a lot better than I do after twenty-five years.”
An unintended smile edges onto my face. “He and I are… We’re just…alike in some ways.”
Brendan rolls his eyes. “Fuck.”
“What?” I raise my eyebrows.
“I don’t have a chance with you, do I?”
My mouth drops open. Am I that obvious?
“I know the look of a woman whose heart belongs to someone else. I’ve seen it a few times before.”
This time I smile again, though embarrassment is the cause. “Dale and I aren’t involved.”
“But you’d like to be.”
“He’s made it clear that it won’t happen.”
Brendan shakes his head. “He’s nuts, then.”
I sigh once more, still playing with the last piece of pie crust on my plate. I’ve reduced it to crumbs. “I think I’m the one who’s nuts. You’re a nice guy, Brendan.”
He clutches his chest, teasing. “Always my fate. I’m the nice guy.”
“I mean it as a compliment. You’re smart and good-looking as all get-out. Plus, you’re baggage-free, from what I can tell.”
“Maybe not free, but a lot less than Dale Steel, I’d wager.”
“See?” I finally rest my fork on the pie plate. “I’m nuts. And for the record, if Dale weren’t a factor, I’d be all over you.”
