I’m totally screwing up.
I touch his forearm. “Hey. Dessert?” I attempt a smile.
“Sure.”
We walk together back to the kitchen. Dale opens the door to the deck, and a panting Penny enters. I give her some well-deserved ear rubs.
Dale serves up the ice cream. “Want to eat it outside?”
“Sure.”
He grabs a cup of coffee for himself and a glass of water for me. I take the dishes of ice cream and follow him outside, Penny at my heels.
A small table awaits us. I set the dishes down as Dale holds out a chair for me.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
The mood is…different. I’ve majorly fucked up, and I know it.
This man—this man who I love more than life itself—said those coveted words to me. I love you. He said them. Said what I feared I’d never hear from his firm lips. Then he gave me a beautiful gift.
Which I refused.
I’ve made a train wreck out of what could have been a perfect evening.
I swirl my spoon around the edge of my bowl, capturing a bit of the ice cream. I bring it to my mouth.
Vanilla and brown sugar creaminess explodes across my tongue. No color or sound. Just the flavor. No surprise. My senses go on hiatus sometimes if I’m upset.
And I’m definitely upset.
Not with Dale. He’s just being Dale.
I’m upset with myself.
Dale doesn’t eat. Just lets the ice cream begin to melt in his bowl.
I raise my eyebrows at him. “It’s delicious.”
“Aunt Marj never misses.”
“Does she make a lot of ice cream?”
“During the summer. This is her last batch for a while.”
I nod. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Maybe. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
I smile halfheartedly. “You did eat two helpings of linguine.”
He scoffs softly. “That has nothing to do with it.”
“Dale…” I reach forward and grab his hand. “I’m sorry about the necklace. I just…”
“I’m not upset about the necklace, Ashley.”
Did you mean it? When you said you loved me, did you mean it?
I say this inside my head, knowing if I let the words blare out I’ll ruin everything.
Dale wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean. I need to accept this man for who he is and not push him.
The warmth of his love has turned to chills, and not from the ice cream.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”
More chills. I swallow the ice cream in my mouth and then stand. “I should go.”
He lifts one eyebrow. “So that’s how it’s going to be, then?”
Penny paws at me, and I pet her soft head.
What am I supposed to say now? Don’t push, Jade told me. But what else am I supposed to do?
Then I realize the answer is within me, and I just made a fatal error.
I’m ready to run off just because I’m confused.
I can’t help a soft chuckle. I’ve been confused since I met Dale Steel. Did I really think that would change once he said he loves me?
“What’s funny?” he asks.
“I am,” I reply truthfully. “I’m funny, because I just did the one thing that makes sense in this situation, except that it doesn’t, because you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Sure, since you’ve admitted to me on more than one occasion that you don’t have much experience with relationships.”
“That’s not true.”
I lift my eyebrows.
“I have no experience with relationships,” he says.
I laugh. Seriously just laugh aloud.
“Now what’s funny?” he asks, clearly not amused.
“No. You’re just…you. You’re so fine tuned to the last detail. You don’t like subjective words like lusty or exuberant when you taste wine. Fine. I get it. You have no experience in relationships. I shouldn’t have said you don’t have much.”
“No, you shouldn’t say something that isn’t accurate. I have no experience, Ashley. Nada. Now get on with what you want to say.”
My God, this man will be the death of me. Please let it be a good death. “I want to say that I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave, and I shouldn’t have said I’d go.” I inhale, exhale slowly. “I’m not going anywhere, Dale. If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to literally carry me out of here.”
He stands, closes the gap between us.
Then he lifts me in his arms.
And my heart crumbles.
I should really be more careful what I say to this man.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dale
Ashley is light as a feather in my arms.
I know what she’s thinking. She expects me to carry her back to the main house. It would serve her right for her attempt to manipulate me by telling me she was going to leave, but I don’t want her to leave.
So I carry her…
I carry her to…my bedroom.
I set her on the bed—not gently. She stares at me with wide blue eyes.
“Surprised?” I ask.
“A little, yeah.”
“I don’t respond well to manipulation.”
“But I wasn’t—”
“I’m not saying you were consciously trying to manipulate me.”